Author's Notes: Meh… so much for shorter chapters :P

Sassyblondexoxo - Before I started writing this fic, I knew that I wouldn't receive that many reviews because my target audience is smaller. Basically I'm writing this just so I can get rid of all those pesky ideas that float around in my head o.0! It probably is all the back reading that people have to do in order to fully understand this story, and I don't blame them by being daunted by it… especially with how long Concrete Prison is O.O! Yeesh! I can't believe I wrote all that! It's also partly my own fault that I haven't been receiving that many reviews, mainly because I don't really have the time to read other people's fics (actually, I lie. I have all the time in the world, though my brother spends all of that time on eBay!). Anyway, it's still great to see some keen people read all of the trilogy in one go, and I know this is going to sound sappy, but I really like and appreciate the reviewers I have now ;) You guys have been great.

Rene - Yeah, compared to the other two, I have to agree with you and say that this one doesn't have as much continuous cliff-hanger action. This time I really wanted to explore other themes and make it considerably different to the plot of the previous two fics (though some things never change :P). …I can't say much more otherwise I'll wreck the story. Also, there will be more flashbacks later on in the story, so for now don't worry if there aregaps in Don's past.

With Mike in that flashback, I feel that in the end he sort of gave up. If he had stayed with Don and Sarah, then he would have felt like a bad father, and neither one of them would have gotten the girl anyway. I also believe that maybe Mike truly wanted to believe that he could trust his brother not to do anything. Anyway, after writing that chapter, I fully respect and admire authors who place Donatello into intimate relationships. It is so hard to write! I feel that Don's OOC if he's even attracted to a member of the opposite sex o.0! That's the real reason why Sarah was so drunk; she basically had lure him into it because he sure as heck wasn't going to make a move :P Anyway, I think Don's reasoning behind it was that Sarah wasn't going to be in Hawaii for very long, so he wanted to make the most of the evening, and because he could still have decent conversations with Sarah, he made a bad call and thought that Sarah knew what she was getting herself into.

…Okay, I'll shut up now and let you guys get on with the fic!

Chapter Seven: Which is Worse?

The media couldn't wait to broadcast the news. For only a few thousand dollars, Hawaii's own television station had bought the exclusive rights to present the compelling evidence of the turtles' existence on Kauai to the world first. The producers were already greedily rubbing their hands, just knowing that other broadcasting agencies would dig deep into their pockets to also earn the right to show a copy of the valuable tape. Yet naturally, there was a problem.

A whistle blower at the television station had sold his information to the local government authorities for a little bit of extra cash. Then, just like a rush of kinetic energy, the local government informed the state, who in turn reported the news about the turtles to the Federal Government in Washington DC. A couple of long distance phone calls were then made. The first one was to tell the Hawaiian television station that a media blackout had been ordered; requesting to at least hold off for twenty-four hours from announcing the news to the public about the turtles, so that the Government would be able to deal with the matter appropriately first before things became out of hand. The next couple of phone calls were addressed to Dr Yesmal, Dr Quease and Dr Aquel.

The three scientists were given one broad order from the Government; 'assess the situation'. Although there were zoos and scientists in Hawaii that could have been called for assistance instead, the authorities thought that it would be wise to just simply reemploy the people who already knew all there was to know about the Yesmal's Turtles. Dr Quease, Yesmal and Aquel were highly qualified and trustworthy people who were already trained up and knew the risks of the job. Although they had disbanded years ago, the Government still wanted them to work together and helped by purchasing them all tickets from New York to Los Angeles, and then non-stop to Hawaii.

Due to different work commitments and assignments, Dr Aquel had ended up catching a separate plane compared to Yesmal and Quease for the first leg of the journey. She was rather shocked, however, when she discovered that the Government had ordered three seats in a row for the final flight to the Pacific state. She hadn't even seen the other two in years, and while she was curious to know what they had been doing, a small part of her didn't really care.

With Aquel taking the isle seat, Yesmal in the middle and Quease at the window, the first few hours were spent either in an awkward silence or in a mundane and mandatory discussion of what they spent the last few years doing. As it turned out, Dr Yesmal had taken his place as Dr Quease's personal assistant. Back in the days when the turtles were captured, Yesmal hired Dr Quease as a much-needed geneticist. Yet when the escape occurred and Quease's job became obsolete at the zoo, it forced him to return back to his own personal research at his privately owned lab. Still extremely interested by Dr Quease's work, Dr Yesmal made a drastic decision and distanced himself from the zoo in order to learn more about mutations and genes alike. When Dr Quease offered him a job position as a lab assistant, Dr Yesmal couldn't refuse. So the employer became the employee, and Dr Yesmal decided to further his studies, only working at the zoo when the money seemed to be worth his time and expertise.

Dr Aquel had a completely different story to tell. Unlike Dr Yesmal, Susan Aquel thoroughly enjoyed working at the zoo, and she continued to work there until the present day. Occasionally she would take a break by going on an overseas volunteer working holiday, such as helping out environmentalists in Borneo with their studies on orangutans. She did it for the love of the job, not for the money, and while she was the poorest and least successful out of the three scientists, she didn't regret anything.

On the plane, the three scientists sat side by side, each occupying themselves and talking only when a moment felt awkward. Quease ended up staring out the window, even though they were over the Pacific Ocean and the only thing he could see was either the colour blue, or clouds. Dr Yesmal was avoiding contact with everyone by adopting the best method of ignoring other people - reading the newspaper, while Dr Aquel was quite content to just simply watch the in-flight movie.

"What are you watching?" Yesmal inquired once he had given up on the daily crossword featured inside the newspaper.

"Huh?" Dr Aquel knew her coworker had said something, but she couldn't hear his words due to the headphones covering her ears. Breaking her gaze away from the screen, she leaned in closer and lifted up one of the large foam-covered ear pieces.

"What are you watching?" Yesmal impatiently repeated.

"The Aviator," the female replied. Yesmal just gave her a small nod of recognition. A few minutes later, the man interrupted her again.

"…Isn't there a plane crash shown in the movie?" Dr Yesmal wondered.

"Several. So?"

"I thought there was an unspoken rule that airlines couldn't show movies that featured plane crashes in them," Dr Yesmal stated. The female scientist gave him a thoughtful frown.

"I think that's for more violent, terrorist related movies. Why? If you're scared of crashing, then why don't you read through that airplane brochure?" Susan Aquel said with a smirk, pointing to the large cardboard booklet that featured diagrams of all the exits and what to do in case of an emergency. Rather bored, Dr Yesmal leaned forward and slid the brochure out of the pocket attached to the seat in front. The man grumped when his eyes scanned across it, casually soaking in all the information.

"I've always loved this diagram," Dr Yesmal pointed to the drawing that depicted what to do if the plane crashed into the water.

"Why?" The female scientist was baffled as to why her colleague liked that particular one.

"Because I find it quite amusing," Dr Yesmal smirked. Aquel just gave him a weird and disturbed look. Seeing her expression, the man thought that it would be wise to explain his reasoning. "As if the plane will land and float on the water's surface, stable and calm enough for everyone to just casually slip down those inflatable slides," Yesmal finished his rather wry comment. Aquel thought over his words for the next few seconds before finally chuckling to herself when she realised how stereotypical those airplane safety diagrams really were.

"Anyway, we should stop talking about plane crashes. We'll make the other passengers nervous," Dr Aquel warned.

"So? What are they going to do if I keep talking about it? Kick me off the plane?" Dr Yesmal questioned rather defiantly, always wanting his own way, never listening to the voice of reason.

"Get up," Dr Quease suddenly ordered the two other scientists from his rather enclosed seat beside the window.

"Why?" Yesmal protested.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Dr Quease said.

"Again! What are you? A fish?" Aquel complained. Unfortunately for the three of them, the Government had skimped on the cash and had booked them all seats in economy, therefore if the person occupying the window seat wanted to get out, then they would all have to get up and pile themselves out in the small isle. Grudgingly they all stood up and shimmied their way into the skinny walkway. They groaned when they all realised that the breakfast cart was blocking Dr Quease's path to the dingy toilet. So one by one they shimmied back into their seats, though by now they were all quite tired and annoyed. They sighed as they wondered what they could do to pass the time.

"Ever been to Hawaii before?" Dr Yesmal suddenly asked the two people beside him. Quease and Aquel shook their heads simultaneously. "Neither," Yesmal said after a short silence.

"Can I watch the footage again?" Dr Aquel asked. Sighing, Yesmal obliged and silently retrieved his laptop from its position under his seat. Of course, the person if front of him had reclined so far that in order for him to bend down, he had to practically rest his head on Quease's thigh. After some awkward maneuvering, Yesmal slowly managed to load the disc on his computer software. Yanking down his small, rectangle-shaped gray table, the three of them gathered in close and watched the short film featuring the mutant turtles.

Although the green creatures were still fairly far off in the distance, the footage was still clear and detailed, obviously because it was shot by an experienced cameraman. There was no doubt that if the witness had simply been an ordinary tourist, then nothing remotely usable would have been captured on film, except for the mumbling sounds of a conversation. The camera's settings had been utilised to its full capacity, with the sound being heightened and the scenery being lightened to show more detail, immediately providing too much evidence to be labeled as an annoying time waster of a hoax.

"What are you looking for?" Dr Yesmal inquired, thinking that the female scientist was seeking for something in particular.

"I wanna know what they're talking about," Dr Aquel murmured, listening hard. Eventually she resorted to plugging in the headphones that the plane provided, though all she could hear was that distant mumbling sound. Yet there was a word that she thought she recognised. 'Sarah Wat-'. It wasn't clear, not even complete, but Aquel couldn't think of what other word could have been said. 'Why would the turtles be talking about Sarah Watson?' Dr Aquel wondered to herself. She shook her head and eventually concluded that she had heard the animal rights activist's name because she had imagined it; thinking too much about the recent events that had unfolded, that the name kept popping up into her subconscious mind, not allowing her to interpret the words in any other way.

"How old do you think the youngest turtle is?" Yesmal suddenly asked both of his coworkers.

"Probably just a bit older than what the little red male was when he was in captivity. So I'm guessing around maybe seven, eight. At most, nine," Dr Aquel stated once she had pulled out her headphones from the laptop, giving up on trying to eavesdrop on the turtles' conversation. Dr Yesmal gritted his teeth when the female scientist had referred to that particular turtle. Out of habit, the man stared at the deep scar on his hand, slowly stretching and bending his fingers, watching them as they shook, hesitated and wobbled as though the tendons in his palm weren't operating properly. The mark was a brutal reminder of what one of the turtles had done to him. Although young, Raphael had slammed a sai through his hand, rendering it scarred and injured for the rest of his life. He had undergone surgery a number of times in order to try and fix up all the nerves that had been damaged, but no matter how many times it had been operated on, the limb still shook involuntarily and felt numb in some parts. Dr Yesmal had agreed to come and study the species he had named for two reasons; one was because the Government had offered a fair sum of cash, while the other reason revolved around his personal vendetta against that particular red-wearing reptile.

"So do you think that's the turtle that we created through in vitro fertilisation?" Yesmal pondered, continuing on with the conversation even though his mind was elsewhere.

"It's definitely probable. It could be the one that was conceived naturally though," Dr Aquel analysed, remembering that there were two eggs the last time they had heard about the turtles. "I wonder if they've had any more offspring since then?" The female scientist questioned. "Either way, I can't wait to see how the group's going!" Dr Aquel said, getting excited and curious about their mission.

"Neither can I," Dr Yesmal muttered to himself, still flexing and bending his hand, slowly becoming less and less impatient about getting his revenge.


No one even dared to breathe. There was no talking, no grunts or mumbles. Their eyes didn't even blink. They couldn't believe what they were witnessing. Splattered all over the morning news, the media was finally given permission to broadcast the videotape containing the extraordinary footage of the turtle clan. It was the top story and went for at least two minutes in length. Partly terrified, and yet partly impressed by the quality of the tape, the turtles felt rather numb watching themselves being exposed to millions of people worldwide.

"What are we going to do?" Michelangelo managed to gasp and speak in a breathless voice at the same time. There was a long silence. Leonardo was still trying to get over the shock. None of them had expected to see that on television. What had started out as a peaceful morning had now mutated into a horrible nightmare.

Not taking his eyes off the television screen, Leonardo managed to utter an answer. "I don't know," he whispered. It was easy to tell that he was frightened. Though he wasn't scared for his own life, but rather he feared for his family. He knew that there was a big chance that Donatello could be taken away from the clan, while Venus and Diana could unwillingly fall pregnant. Leo didn't want any members of his family to suffer.

"We have to leave," Donatello spoke up, his voice clear, absolutely convinced that he had announced the only solution. Sighing, Leonardo stood up from his seat in front of the television and turned the entertainment system off, obviously wanting to discuss the issue with the clan without having any background distractions.

"Okay. If we leave, where are we going to go?" Leo's mind had finally sprung into gear, already attempting to formulate a plan.

"Well… are we going to live out in the country, or are we going back to living in cities?" Venus wanted to narrow the scope down.

"Well, if we're going to live out in the country, then we'll need a place that has fertile land so we can support ourselves by growing crops. If we choose a city, then we don't have to worry about food as much, though there's a greater chance of being discovered by humans," Donatello analysed.

"We've tried cities. It didn't work. We've got to live away from civilisation," Leonardo made a firm decision.

"Europe?" Mike suggested, still thinking about France. "It's got fertile land."

"Too flat," Don disapproved. "There'd be nowhere to hide. A lot of it's already farmed; human populations are too widespread. We could try hiding in the mountains, but then it would probably be too cold for us," Donatello said.

"Is it just me, or is Africa starting to sound remotely plausible?" Mike pondered the possibility out loud.

"Yeah, that is if we manage to survive the harsh environment, the native wildlife, and the poachers that wouldn't even question shooting us before selling our shells on the black market," Raphael finally spoke up, sounding rather sour, especially when he reminded everyone of the fate of his father. "Frankly I'd rather just stay here and take our chances," the teenage boy mumbled. Although he stated his opinion rather harshly, Raphael did manage to raise an issue that the others hadn't thought about. In that moment, Leo realised that their situation could have been a lot worse. In the Western World, most countries were dedicated to conserving endangered species, compared to other places that would prefer to exterminate them for accessories, traditional medicines, or just for a plain old Yesmal's Turtle meaty burger. Considering they were all at the mercy of the human race where anything could have happened to them from dissection to going into the pet trade, the turtle clan couldn't really complain that their lives were that bad.

"Better the devil we know," Leo murmured to himself after pondering over all of the worst case scenarios.

"I think Africa's a bit too far away… Wouldn't the airport security be too tight for us to swap planes?" Venus asked.

"Airports have really cracked down on security lately," Leonardo confirmed his wife's concerns. "I don't think we should really risk it."

"What are you suggesting, Leo?" Don asked, wary of his brother's train of thought. Everyone stared at the clan's leader, wondering what the outcome of the discussion would be.

"I think Raph's quite right. Why should we risk being caught at the airport, or traveling to a foreign country that doesn't care as much about animal rights? This is our home. We should defend it for once," Leonardo announced a completely different tactic than what they had ever tried in the past.

"Leo, you can't be serious!" Donatello couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Think about it, Donny. Videotape or not, they still don't know where our lair is. Back in the old days, when the Foot were sneaking around in the sewers, whenever they got close, did we ever freak out, pack up and move country? Of course not! We just hung tight for a few days. And that's what we're gonna do this time," Leo said with confidence in his plan.

"But these scientists are never going to stop looking for us! They'll search every inch of this island if they have to!" Don complained.

"What? And the Foot didn't?" Leo retorted.

"I didn't mean it like that," Don said through his grinding teeth. An annoyed snarl started to form on his face.

"All I'm trying to say is that we know our enemy. Who knows? If they don't find us after a few weeks, then they might automatically expect that we've moved anyway, because that's what we've always done before, and that's what they'll predict us to do," Leonardo tried his best to explain his train of thought.

"And what if they don't give up?"

"Then at least we know what's in store for us," Mike muttered, also starting to warm up to the idea of simply staying.

"Like I've said before, it's all fine and dandy for you guys, but I get forced into slavery," Donatello continued to argue against his family's decision.

"It couldn't have been that bad," Mike said, rolling his eyes at his brother's melodramatics; an action that only succeeded in infuriating the purple-wearing turtle.

"You have no idea what it was like for me. How alone I felt; how I longed for you guys to find me," Donatello angrily defended the reason why he was opposed to Leo's idea, aiming most of his words towards Michelangelo.

"Well it's not as though you came to rescue us either," Mike replied, getting irritated.

"There were some complications, otherwise I would have!"

"Well, we had problems as well, so stop your whining!"

"Whining? Oh, I'm so sorry that because of these so-called scientists, I spent eight years in solitude! Personally I think I have every right to complain!" Donatello sarcastically argued with Mike.

"Yeah, and for those eight years you were never chased, shot at, attacked. Hell, you probably weren't even rudely woken up from your sleep! You just slept in peace without a fear in the world, like a little baby," Michelangelo really got stuck into his brother.

"Wow… You just proved my point about not understanding what it was like for me!"

"Then stop whining and just tell me!"

"I will! But you're too much of an ignoramus to open your ears and listen!"

Venus couldn't take it any longer. Without warning, she doubled over and started cackling at the pair of hot-headed turtles. "And what could possibly be funny?" Don yelled, quite baffled at Venus' reaction, not knowing how she could laugh at a time when their lives were in danger. After hacking out a few more incapacitating chuckles, Venus slowly composed herself once again, though her large smile never left her face.

"You just reminded me of how Raph and Leo used to fight," Venus giggled. "You're both just… so stubborn. So silly," the female turtle smirked. Since his wife had broken the awkward tension in the air, turning it more light-hearted, Leonardo let out a few chuckles as well, also remembering the days when he used to enter pointless heated arguments. Mike and Don stared at the pair, totally flabbergasted.

"Are we really that bad?" Mike asked, his voice filled with both shock and fear. He had always been ashamed at how his two eldest brothers squabbled over what seemed the smallest topics. He hated the feeling that had emanated from Raph and Leo; how awkward the tension felt afterwards. Not only was it horrible for the participants, but also for the spectators, and Mike had sworn to himself that he would never argue with that amount of ferocity with anyone in front of the rest of the clan. Venus' comment had only made him realise how tattered and broken his friendship with Donatello had become.

Donatello was equally shocked by Venus' seemingly light-hearted comment. Like Mike, he too had once thought that Raph and Leo's arguments were the epitome of animosity. He was a turtle who preferred peace, and it shook his bones to realise how many things had changed over the years. He never wanted to act in that way. With sorrowful eyes that only wanted forgiveness for his stubborn behaviour, Donatello glanced at Diana, Iris and Gabriel who were all listening in on the important discussion. It was easy to tell that the children were concerned; all of them relying on the decision the adults made, as they were too young to solve the problem by themselves. They weren't scared, but rather felt betrayed, just how a voter would feel if their representative in Parliament suddenly treated their important job with nonchalance. Their lives depended on the outcome just as much as the adult's did, and there was no time or space for a pointless squabble to take place.

"You're definitely getting there. Just add a few more swear words and a punch for good measure," Leonardo answered Mike's rhetorical question with a smirk and a wink. Raphael frowned. The boy had heard that his father used to disagree with the clan's leader a lot, but he never really thought it had been as serious as Leo had just made it out to be.

"Were the fights between you and my father really like that?" Raph questioned, curious yet also worried at the severity of the arguments.

"Nah. It was all in good fun. Nothing major," Leonardo dismissed his adopted son's fears. The other adults scoffed involuntarily in response, though they belatedly tried to cover up their reactions when Raphael raised an eye-ridge, quickly catching on that he wasn't being told the entire truth.

"That's the understatement of the century," Michelangelo muttered just loud enough to be heard. Venus giggled in response to his comment, though once again she tried to cover up the laughter for Raph's sake. Leo gave the other adults a quick glare, silently fuming that they hadn't taken his lead and not have made the issue any worse. The leader sighed in defeat, knowing that Raphael would no doubt approach him later on in order to try and pry for information that Leo didn't want to be known.

"Okay… Let's get back on topic, shall we?" Leo said, slightly annoyed by how far the subject matter had drifted.

"Why can't we just move to another Hawaiian island?" Donatello suggested, swiftly getting back on track with the discussion.

"Steal a speedboat again? Just like how we got to Kauai in the first place?" Leo wanted to rectify Don's idea.

"Yeah, of course. There's no way we'd be able to sneak on board smaller aircraft," Don confirmed.

"But in the first year we can't grow enough crops to support ourselves, so that'll mean we'll have to supplement our diet with food stolen from the nearby towns. It just takes time to get all the agriculture and whatnot up and running," Leo said.

"So? That's what we had to do before when we first started living here," Don replied, not understanding what the problem was.

"But other islands have larger towns. There's a greater chance of being caught. We were lucky last time that we weren't seen."

"They won't be expecting us on another island though! Leo, honestly, what are the chances of staying free when we're going to be up against tranquilizers, radio tracers and traps alike?" Donatello said, starting to sound rather flustered again.

"Don… I guess what I'm trying to say is that we haven't done anything wrong. We've been living in this forest unnoticed for almost a decade now. We're no threat to anyone. The moment we step foot in a town, then we'll be classified as dangerous, and then they'll have no choice but to capture us. I'm just saying that if we leave or change our behaviour, then things could be worse," Leonardo summarised his argument.

Although he wouldn't admit it, Don could understand what his brother meant. Being so interested in science, Don knew that it would be unusual for scientists to round them up, pull them out of a natural environment and then cart them all the way back to New York. Whereas if they were spotted in a town… then execution could be a scary possibility, especially when it was widely known that the turtles had killed human beings before. There had been zoo escapees in the past. Donatello could recall numerous news stories about gorillas, lions and rhinos breaking free and running wild in the city streets, only to be shot on sight because they were endangering human lives, even though they were all considered threatened or endangered species. The turtles didn't know if they'd be treated the same way, but none of them wanted to find out. It was hard to know what was the greater risk, or what was the better outcome or choice, but with being outnumbered, Donatello knew when he had been defeated.

"Alright Leo. Let's stay and lay low for a while. Just let it be known that I never agreed to this plan," Donatello finally relented, concluding the debate. The blue-wearing turtle gave him a solemn nod, respecting the hard decision that his brother had made.


Dr Yesmal watched the second and minute hand circle around the clock face while he impatiently wondered when the park warden would finish reading the fine print on their Government contract. Everything had already been prepared for them. The three scientists had reserved accommodation at the nearest tourist facility; a campsite in the middle of the woods that was mostly comprised of simple wooden logged cabins. They had also been a special priority over the other visitors, being allowed to turn the large sports gym that was located within the campsite into a basic lab and containment facility. Yet there was one thing that stood in their way. A man by the name of Andrew Walker.

Yesmal drummed his fingers against the timber desk while Quease's and Aquel's eyes aimlessly drifted around the room – sometimes looking out the window, sometimes staring at the dingy kitchenette and microwave. Extremely impatient, Dr Yesmal sighed heavily, starting to feel rather cramped inside the warden's ridiculously small office. "Hold on… Almost done…" Andrew Walker murmured when he could sense the scientist's disgruntlement, though his focus never left the document he held in his hands detailing the duties the Government instructed the researchers to fulfill.

"You know, I've read through it. There's nothing that's really out of the ordinary," Dr Yesmal wanted to hurry things up, just itching to hunt down the species that was named after him.

"I'm sure there isn't. But you can never take contracts for granted," Andrew Walker stated, trying his best to hide his smirk. After waiting another full minute and a half, the warden gently placed the contract back on the desk and slid it back over towards his important guests. "You're welcome to study the Yesmal Turtle species… however I cannot grant you the permission to capture, hold and export these turtles from this island," the man said firmly. All three scientists held a dumbstruck expression.

"Why, why not?" Dr Yesmal was flabbergasted.

"They are considered native animals, and this is a National Park. You can't just come waltzing in here expecting to just abduct whatever animal you want. There are certain rules that you have to abide by," Andrew Walker pointed out the facts, being quite stern.

"But surely given the circumstances-" Yesmal started to protest.

"-It says so in the contract," the park warden interrupted the scientist's attempt of negotiation.

"What! Where?" Yesmal sounded alarmed.

"Paragraph three, line five, and I quote: 'In accordance with Federal National Park Laws'," the man recalled, still trying to hide his smile of success. He couldn't help but enjoy himself as he teased the three scientists. Dr Quease hurriedly scanned his eyes through the document, only to frown when he discovered that Andrew was indeed correct. "So under these park laws, you're allowed to observe and study the Yesmal Turtle, but you can't disturb them for long periods of time."

"…But technically they're not really native animals. They didn't originate from Hawaii," Dr Quease entered the fray.

"Do you know that for certain? Can you currently find them anywhere else in the world? From what I've heard, it seems that they're endemic to this area… which in my book means that they're native, and therefore protected," Andrew concluded.

"…Well, actually, a few of the animals were bred in captivity, so technically, shouldn't they be exempt from-" once again Yesmal tried to negotiate with the stubborn park warden.

"-Stop trying to look for loopholes. They're protected by law, and there's nothing we can do about it," Andrew saw right through the scientist's attempts to bypass the rules and regulations.

"I don't believe this," Dr Yesmal muttered under his breath while he rubbed his forehead with a hand in frustration.

"So what exactly do you mean by 'study'? What can we do?" Dr Aquel inquired, the only one out of the three who didn't seem as devastated by the news that they couldn't transport the turtles back to New York.

"You'll be able to film and photograph them. Also, you're allowed to perform more in depth observations through capture and release methods," Andrew said.

"Oh, so we can still tranquil them and take data, as long they're released again within a short time frame?" the female scientist wanted confirmation on their limitations and rights as researchers. The park ranger nodded in response.

"No more than thirty minutes though, and, of course, nothing too strenuous that will stress out the animal," Andrew rectified.

"Can we use helicopters?" Dr Yesmal piped up again.

"What for?"

"To help us find and tranquil them."

"Definitely not. Here in the National Park we have whole flocks of rare and native birds. If you fly an aircraft below the height restriction, then you'll be heavily fined for endangering the wildlife," Andrew Walker warned him.

"This is ludicrous," Dr Yesmal muttered under his breath again, still in disbelief by their whole situation. Usually men in Andrew's position would love to help out with the research so much, that they'd be willing to quit their jobs in order to do so. Afterall, it wasn't everyday that a rare and extremely interesting living anomaly was occupying the forest right outside their doorstep. However, for some reason, Andrew was being extremely uncooperative, and Dr Yesmal couldn't help but wonder why.

"You've been given permission to access the areas of the park that's usually off limits, though I do ask of you to be careful where you tread. We also have some exotic plant life that we need to protect," Andrew said.

"So… are we allowed to contain them for long periods of time at all?" Dr Yesmal asked, still obsessed with the idea of capturing the turtles… and exacting his revenge. The park ranger sighed, knowing that he had to answer the question truthfully even though he didn't want to disclose the information.

"Under certain circumstances… Yes," Andrew mumbled. If Dr Yesmal was a dog, then his ears would have perked up and his tail would have started wagging furiously.

"Really? …What kind of circumstances?" Dr Yesmal intently asked, leaning forward as though he had suddenly gained interest in the conversation once again.

"Well if they're a threat to human life, then they'd have to be relocated. They'd also be moved if they're destroying native plants or severely making an impact on the population size of other native species."

"Like being a pest?" Dr Yesmal had to refrain from hissing his words.

"Yeah, kind of. But either case doesn't apply to these turtles. I mean, they've been living in these woods unnoticed, for what? A decade now? So they're not threatening the public, and from what I've seen, they've had no major catastrophic affect on the environment either," Andrew shrugged.

"What if one fell ill, or needed to be treated?" Dr Quease said with a rather conniving facial expression.

"Well… yeah, you'd be allowed to house and treat them."

"So we can contain them for long periods of time if there is a medical reason?" Dr Yesmal inquired, sharing the same evil genius look that his boss was sporting.

"Yes. Basically there just has to be a valid and strong reason for catching them and taking them away from their habitat," Andrew repeated, eventually becoming weary by his guest's constant probing for loopholes. "Um… Is there anything else? Any other questions?"

"I think we're right for now," Dr Aquel stated with a smile, knowing that the park ranger was trying to end the conversation. One by one the three scientists exited the cramped office and entered the reception area. Their bags were still sitting in the lobby. Wanting to check in, Dr Quease approached the counter in order to sort out the bookings while Dr Yesmal and Aquel stood to one side, wanting to talk about what they had arranged with Andrew Walker.

"This is so shit!" Yesmal swore under his breath, completely annoyed with the whole situation regarding the turtles. The female simply shrugged in response while she carefully scanned her eyes across the wall lined with shelves of tourist pamphlets. "What was wrong with that guy? Just so damn uptight! You'd think that considering we're talking about one of the rarest animals in the world, you'd think he'd help us out and bend the rules a bit!" Dr Yesmal continued to rant under his breath to his female colleague. "What do you think about all this?"

"Ooh, movie tours," Dr Aquel hadn't been listening to the man's angry whispering, and instead had just been collecting pamphlets.

"Susan?"

"Hmm, what?" He finally gained her attention.

"What the hell just happened in there? Since when does a friggin' park ranger have authority over us?" Dr Yesmal was still venting his rage.

"Well… frankly I don't see what the big deal is. The Government never said that we had to transport the turtles back to New York. They just said to check things out," Dr Aquel reasoned.

"But how are we supposed to study them?" Dr Yesmal raised his voice slightly in frustration.

"There are plenty of ways to do our job. Personally I think Mr. Walker's right. Capturing them and isolating them from one another is only going to alter their behaviour, skewer results and cause undue stress. The only reason we caught them last time was because they were in city areas. That's not the case this time around," Dr Aquel enforced her opinion. All of a sudden she gasped. "White water rafting!" She smiled with glee as she daintily picked up a pamphlet off the shelf.

"But before we could observe them at all hours. Study them more accurately," Dr Yesmal continued to protest against the decision that had been made.

"But aren't you curious to see what they're like in their natural environment?"

"They'll probably just do the same things we've seen them do before back in New York… Though in New York we were able to make a profit off them."

"Is that all you ever think about these days? The money? Do you honestly believe that being restricted in tiny cells, separated from each other, that it didn't alter the way they acted in any way, shape or form?" Dr Aquel interrogated her coworker, disbelieving his ignorance… or arrogance.

"Well…" Dr Yesmal couldn't think of anything to defend his reasoning. Luckily for him, Dr Quease broke the conversation when he moved away from the reception desk.

"You're both in cabin fourteen," Dr Quease announced while he dangled the keys in front of Aquel.

"Both? Are we sharing a cabin?" Dr Aquel held a mortified look on her face. Quease nodded.

"Because the Government couldn't reserve rooms that far in advance, they had to make do and give us a cabin for three. But I'm not staying here," Quease said.

"Why not?" Yesmal wondered.

"I study through dissection, not by looking at photographs. This really is just a big waste of my time," Dr Quease grumbled as his ego started to shine through.

"So what are you going to do? Where are you going to go?" Dr Aquel questioned.

"I might just head back to New York, return to my lab. It'll probably just be easier to create my own mutants rather than running around a giant forest trying to look at some animals," Quease started to take on a sour tone.

"But you just got here!" Dr Yesmal stated, amazed that after a relatively long flight, his boss wanted to hop back on a plane and return straight home again.

"If we manage to collect some samples, then we'll might need you to analyse them," Dr Aquel pointed out. Dr Quease sighed, secretly admitting to himself that he wasn't ready to hop back on a plane just yet.

"I'll probably just stay in town somewhere then," Dr Quease changed his mind.

There was a long silence. Eventually all three scientists allowed their blank gazes to fall upon Andrew Walker's closed office door. "I think he's hiding something," Dr Yesmal whispered, narrowing his eyes. It was the only thing that everyone agreed upon.

To be continued…