A/N: Just a quick heads-up for sensitive readers, Don's language (yeah, you read that right, Don's language, not Raph's) earned the story its "T" rating in this chap. Sorry to any virgin readers out there, but it's not that bad, and I think justified considering the provocation.
Donnie: *grumbles* I'll say it is. A 'pet'. I'll show them a 'pet'...
Mikell: *rolls eyes* Yeah, I can see the headlines now... "child savaged by pet turtle"...
Uh oh... *runs from angry purple-banded turtle.* Geez, Don, relax! Read the chapter before you attack me, ok?
Chapter 6 -Pet-
"What?" Donatello stood up, glaring. Jon lumbered to his feet, but stood still, watching Don warily. Don ignored him, waving his arms at Kanar. "You stuck me with a tranq dart, turtle-napped me, tied me up in an airplane and took me away from my family, from my home, because some spoiled brat of a kid wants a pet turtle? What the shell is wrong with you people?"
"Now, Donatello," said Kanar. "Let's just calm down and talk about this rationally."
"I will not calm down!" shouted Donatello. "I demand to be taken back at once! This is ridiculous!" Kanar sat, watching him, and didn't answer. "Damn it," yelled Don. "Turn this plane around now, Kanar, or I swear I'll take it down." he crouched into a fighting stance. Jon took a step closer, but didn't attack.
"I believe, Donatello, that you have forgotten your promise," said Kanar reasonably. "And I also believe that you will calm down and face the situation rationally. You were, after all, chosen for your intelligence." Donatello glared at him. Kanar returned his gaze calmly.
"This is insane," said Donatello, sinking back into the seat. "I can't be somebody's pet."
"Now, now, we do recognize that you are a thinking, feeling being. No one thinks of you as an animal, dear boy. No, no mere insentient animal would amuse Katie for long. She requires intelligent companionship. She asked him for a turtle. Her father is determined that she shall have the best, the most impressive specimen of the species. You are, dear boy, the best."
Wait a minute…he described me as intelligent, gentle…That's a laugh, a 'gentle' ninja…But he said Katie needs a gentle companion…
"So he's using me to get around her request not to bring more humans to the island, is that it? He's giving her what she wants, without breaking his promise?" Donatello's tone was bitter.
"You do catch on quickly, dear boy. You see, with intelligence like yours, you won't waste valuable energy fighting the inevitable. I think you'll find Miss Katie a very agreeable companion indeed. She's an extremely intelligent child, with an abnormally high IQ, hardly a "spoiled brat", despite her father's indulgences."
"And what makes you think I'll go along with this plan and play nurse-maid to some kid?" growled Donatello.
Kanar shook his head with a sad smile. "My dear boy, you simply don't have a choice. Jon is not our only means of getting people to cooperate. I believe you'll find it's best to go along. Yes, it's always best to get along." He motioned with his hand, and Jon approached, holding out the silver tray to Donatello. Don looked up.
"Eat, Donatello. It will be best at first, to try some of these crackers," said Kanar. "They'll help settle your stomach."
"How do I know it's not drugged?" asked Donatello, glancing at the tray. The crackers were arranged on a real lace doily. He snorted.
"I'm afraid there's no way to convince you. However, you will notice, the beverage is sealed. I assure you, it has not been tampered with," said Kanar with another of his oily smiles. "If we wanted to drug you again, I assure you, dear boy, Jon is more than capable of administering it by other means than trickery. I, myself, am a crack shot with a tranq gun."
"You wouldn't risk a gun in here," said Donatello, his eyes narrowing. "And you said you want me to arrive undamaged."
"True, my dear boy, very true. Still, I promise you, the food is just as it appears, perfectly harmless." Donatello looked at the tray again. Kanar was right of course. His stomach was still queasy. Did he dare trust the man? Finally he took the can of ginger-ale. As Kanar said, it was unopened.
No way they slipped something into this, unless this guy has his own canning plant, which wouldn't surprise me… It seems unlikely they'd go to that level of trouble, though.
"I think I'll stick to the soda, thanks," he said.
"It is entirely your prerogative," said Kanar. "We'll be arriving soon."
"Touch down will occur in seven minutes, Mr. Kanar," said a rather mechanical voice over the speaker.
Donatello nearly choked on the soda.
What?! "That is a computer-generated voice," he sputtered. "What exactly is flying this plane?"
Kanar smiled. "Don't worry yourself, dear boy. I assure you the pilot is quite qualified. We will land safely. I suggest we all fasten our seat belts. I will accompany Jon to the front of the plane, where a specially-made seat has been installed for him. I do not question your honor, dear boy, but it would not seem prudent for me to remain back here alone with you, while you are unrestrained. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," grated Donatello. He set the can of pop down and buckled his seat belt. Kanar nodded, and he and Jon left, closing the door with a distinct click behind them.
I did promise not to attack anyone while we were on the plane, thought Don. But the instant this thing touches down, all bets are off.
Donatello barely felt the plane's descent. There was a slight shuddering bump as the wheels touched down, and then he felt it slowing as it taxied.
The runway must be like glass, he thought. Even an auto-pilot couldn't make such a smooth landing otherwise. Not that I've had a ton of experience flying on private jets.
The door opened before he could remove his seat belt. Jon stood there, filling the frame with his bulk.
"Mr. Kanar wants to know if we need to tie you up again, or if you're gonna come quietly," he said calmly, flexing his muscles. Donatello looked around the enclosed room.
What would Raph do in my place?
Don figured he could puncture the side of the airplane, but he probably couldn't create a large enough hole to slip through before Jon grabbed him. He shook his head, frustrated.
"I'll come quietly," he said.
"Good," said Jon. "You seem like a nice guy. I don't want to have to hurt you."
"I'd prefer that, myself," muttered Donatello, following the big man to the front of the plane. He had time to register more luxurious seats, and one large specially-made seat mounted at the front of the plane, before Jon hustled him through the doorway.
Donatello stepped, blinking, down the plane's few steps, and looked around. Kanar hadn't been kidding. This place really was paradise.
The airport was small, but the building was made of light tan bricks, which sat as if it were meant to among the local flora. And what flora! Don's eyes grew wide as he stared around. A warm breeze caressed his skin, and the plants… from what Don could see, everything for miles around was green dotted here and there with tantalizing bits of color. Something ran across his bare foot, and Donatello jumped, instinctively reaching for the bo staff which was no longer on his back.
"It's an anole," said Kanar. "They're harmless, and plentiful here." Don watched as a tiny green lizard skittered away across the grass.
Anole… We must be somewhere south, close to the equator… But I know I wasn't out for long. We can't be much further than… Mexico. He felt his heart sink. An island in the Pacific, hundreds of miles from his family? How will they find me? How will I get back home?
He turned to look at the jet that had recently been his prison. It was smaller than he'd guessed, only perhaps forty feet in length, with a sleek design. It was painted midnight blue, and Don couldn't see any of the required call letters painted on the tail.
I wonder how fast I can learn to fly. It can't be that hard to hot-wire a plane…
"Come. Let us go into the airport. Our employer wishes to speak with you before you are introduced to his daughter," said Kanar smoothly. He began walking away from the tarmac strip, toward the building. Donatello glanced at Jon, calculating his chances of reaching the jungle before the big man could catch him. Jon was muscular, but Donatello was willing to bet he wasn't fast.
"Don't," said Jon, as if he were reading Donatello's thoughts. "The island is swarming with guards. You wouldn't get across the runway. Besides, Kanar's a crack shot."
Kanar turned, reaching under his pressed jacket. He took out a small pistol, and aimed it at Donatello's chest. "My dear boy, please don't make me use this. You did say you'd come quietly."
