Ourobouros Complex

By: Serendipity

Chapter Nine: so we meet again

Selected audio clips from the room of Steven Kalawinsky:

rustling

"Hang on mom, I need to find my camera."

muffled "Can't you wait until after we get the groceries taken care of?"

yelling "I haven't been able to find it for days, I think it's lost." back to spoken "Man I hope it's not lost, I paid for that thing. Not in my backpack…crap, what if it fell out in the sewer? Did I close it all the way?"

muffled "Steven!"

"Coming!"

"I hate geometry. I really do. Someday I'm going to get a calculator that does it all for me. No, I did the homework. No, I don't think you want to use my notes. Are you kidding me? Fine. But they're not going to be that great. You'll fail with them. Did you ask Dan? Or Makiah, she's seriously a genius, ask her. No I don't have her number. Shut up."

sounds of rustling fabric, quiet humming

"Are you sure you haven't seen my camera?"

"Yes."

"I mean, you checked everywhere, right?"

"Yes."

frustrated sigh

"Does this mean you lost it, Steve?"

"No! No, it's probably. Somewhere. I don't know where."

"Which means it's lost."

"A little?"

"Steve, that was a birthday present for you-"

"I know, I know. I'm looking, I know."

guitar strings twang, sounding like a tune is being carelessly picked out. finally something is settled on and music plays complete with accompanying singing.

"And I think we can't practice over here any more because the neighbors are complaining about the noise. I know, doesn't that suck? Seriously. No, I don't think she has a place we can do it at. What about Kevin? He has a garage. Okay, but maybe they can clean it out. Yeah, I guess we could. Ugh. Why can't more people get earplugs? No, I don't know."

"Crap. Where's my homework?" rustling sounds

End clips.

This was asinine.

Two weeks of surveillance on the kid and his family had turned up with a sizable chunk of proof that they were, in fact, mind-numbingly normal when at home. The parents took turns cooking, the kid came home and did chores, they talked about school and television and everyday, average topics while they were together. All things considered, it made him feel like a supreme idiot for even wasting the audio bugs on them to begin with.

He sighed and turned away from the computer. "In today's news, the kid is rocking out to loud teenage music in his room. If I had to guess, I'd say he's giving it accompanying hand gestures and dance moves." Donatello turned to Leonardo, who was wearing an expression that conveyed contained frustration. He knew how that felt. "Can we please just cut surveillance on him already? We've been listening in for a while now, and I don't think we'll be getting anything interesting out of this."

Leonardo waved a hand in irritation. "Fine." It wasn't much of a decision, really. Both of them had been coming to the same conclusion over the past couple weeks- whatever guidance the kid was getting that enabled him to find their hide-outs, it wasn't coming from home. Of course, Mr. Kalawinsky was receiving some interesting notices about the sewer project that made their breaking and entering stint not entirely a waste of time.

The messages were still vaguely-worded, or at least worded in a way that would be obvious for someone who actually knew what was happening in the area to decipher, but was difficult for someone without that knowledge to make out. He managed to come to several conclusions in addition to the realization that Bishop's people were behind the sudden renovations.

One, that the project itself was going to be fairly extensive, since the goal was to monitor the majority of NYC's sewer systems. The range on their tech would have to be pretty high, which was worrying. Two, the project was going to be given high priority- with the first stage projected to be completed in a manner of months. Three- that they wouldn't want to be anywhere in the vicinity when these things started monitoring the place, especially if Bishop was setting up subterranean headquarters. It made his head ache. Bad enough to have him at large even still, even worse to have him as a literal neighbor. Was the man not satisfied until he took absolutely everything from them?

One of the cats twined itself affectionately around his ankles in the way it usually did when it decided now was time to be fed. A plaintive meow followed the gesture, and he looked down to an unblinking, imperious feline stare. Feed me, it seemed to demand, feed me or your peaceful silence is forfeit. He reached down and stroked its head, absentmindedly. "In a moment, Tesla."

Their cats had been a parting gift from Klunk, who had managed to find herself a tomcat at some point- they figured it was most likely when April had been cat-sitting, as they never let Klunk out of the lair when she was at home. She'd had a small litter of three: one of kittens had been adopted by April's niece, the other two went to them. It had come as somewhat of a shock when it was clear Klunk was pregnant, and the two of them were, at first, unsure about taking on more pets.

Tesla wound plaintively around his ankle again, meowing in a very definite way. From the looks of it, he was a step away from taking an even more active tack and leaping up into his lap. His tail lashed impatiently and he meowed again.

"Looks like you're taking a break," Leonardo said, amused.

Donatello shot him a look, attempting to look irritated. "You could feed him yourself, you know."

His brother just looked vaguely smug in response. "Oh, no," he said, raising his hands in feigned helplessness, "That's your cat. You're in charge of feeding him. When Bushido wants fed, I'll go and feed her and tend to her needs. That's how it goes."

Tesla punctuated that statement with another mournful meow, and Donatello sighed. "Oh, fine. You can have food."

The tip of Tesla's tail quivered joyfully and he padded his way to the kitchen, where he would no doubt lie in wait, head tilted imperiously, for his turtle slave to bring him sustenance. Ah, the joys of having cats. They had the entitlement complex of gods and got away with it by being completely adorable. A genius design of nature, that. Donatello followed his cat dutifully and rummaged through the cabinets for the kibble. Once he managed to pull out the Friskies, he turned around to see both cats watching him, because clearly cats could hear kibble a mile away. It was one of their powers.

Leonardo, who had followed him over, knelt down and started stroking Bushido between the ears. The cat purred happily, leaning into his touch. Bushido was probably the most affectionate creature named after a strict and merciless honor code you could possibly find. She put up a front of graceful dignity that quickly crumbled after the first belly rub.

Tesla, on the other hand, was a stoic statue of feline pride. Until tempted with kitty treats.

Come to think of it, both of their cats were pretty badly spoiled.

"I don't want your cat around when I'm feeding my cat. Those are the rules," Donatello quipped, leaning down to pour kibble into the feeding dish. It clattered against the metal bowl and the cats started purring, chowing down before he'd even finished putting food in the dish. That led him to wonder exactly how much time he'd spent sitting in front of the godforsaken computer, sucking his brains out as he listened to the impressively dull life of the average fifteen year-old. A glance at the digital clock on the microwave told him at least two hours. Brilliant.

His brother quirked an eye ridge at him. "Denying her food, Don? That's heartless."

"I'm a megalomaniacal kibble dictator," he replied flatly, putting the Friskies back where they belonged- out of reach of their surprisingly clever cats, "I'm thinking of enforcing a strict starvation regimen as well as deny them their catnip mouse. I'm that diabolical."

Leonardo smiled. "Well, now that you've said that aloud, they're never going to let you get away with it."

"I knew there was a loophole in the brilliant scheme somewhere." Donatello leaned against the kitchen counter, folding his arms and releasing a sigh. "So. Back to square one. That kid may or may not be a spy- his home life points to 'not', the fact that he has a home life points to 'not', and suspicious parents aside, we really don't have anything to go off of to say that he's under any kind of assignment. On the other hand, he seems to stalk the places we frequent or used to frequent as a hobby."

"He could have been sent to shake us up," Leonardo said, frowning - possibly out of frustration for the topic or distaste for the fact they'd been sent on a fool's errand, one they had trouble stomaching to begin with, to spy on this kid. It was an irritating subject for them, especially since all the information they had on Steve seemed to contradict each other. If they had hair, they'd be pulling it out. "Or he could have been sent to distract us from the bigger issue - the construction they're doing."

Donatello rubbed at his forehead. He hated trying to understand Bishop's means and motivations. Most of them made some deranged form of logical sense, if not strictly adhering to any form of morality, but sometimes he was downright inscrutable. However, that suggestion made about as much sense as anything else - what point was there to a spy who only visited the locations Bishop must have known they'd evacuated? Unless he was there to scout out for their new subterranean project.

"It makes sense for him to be a distraction," he conceded. "From what we've seen, he's only been to locations we don't use or Bishop already knows about. Sending him to scout those areas doesn't make sense, considering who sent him, but sending him to make us antsy and confused does. Although, really, he's not much of a distraction, considering the enormous construction project within walking distance of our home. A little hard to miss that one, pesky snooping kid or not." His tone registered some of the irritation he was feeling about this development.

Leonardo frowned. "It's been a while. Maybe his memory of our abilities is a little fuzzy. Or maybe he's underestimating us again. Or he could have been sent to distract us from some other minute detail. It really doesn't matter. From what we heard from the auditory bug in his room, he doesn't seem like he's going to come trekking back." Not that either of them expected anyone to plot out loud to themselves. People weren't nearly that thoughtful.

Donatello heaved a sigh. "You know, it used to be that people steered clear of the sewers. We'd get drainers sometimes, we'd get people doing maintenance or minor construction, we'd even get the occasional homeless people. But now we're getting a whole underground government facility, I tell you, this place is getting far too crowded."

A slight smile tugged at Leonardo's mouth. "In other words, 'you darn kids keep off my lawn?'"

"I worked hard on that lawn," Donatello said, folding his arms in a show of annoyance. "I mowed that lawn every day. I gave it fertilizer and attention. Soon, there will be government officials crowding that space with their cheap plastic flamingos and tacky garden gnomes. Soon, we will have the men in black running through our sprinklers with reckless abandon. If it was at all possible, I would call the homeowner's association on them."

"Yes, that would show them. A few strict notes and a stiff fine will have them running in fear."

Ha ha ha. Oh, what fun they had when a hostile, murdering madman came to invade their home and possibly finish the job he'd started. It was either tell jokes or spend most of their time in a state of terror, and jokes ended up being a lot more comfortable. Who would have thought it. Although, their brand of morbid humor did have the added bonus of making their still somewhat-normal friends give them a funny look whenever it slipped into their admittedly somewhat-normal conversations. April had just learned to take it in stride, and Casey had…adapted to it with unsurprising ease. Everyone else had mixed results.

"You've been keeping an eye on the area, right?" he asked Leonardo. No need to specify what 'the area' was, not with the two of them gun shy on any sudden movements being made in the vicinity. He'd stick up more surveillance if he didn't think the cameras had a possibility of being found. As it was, what they'd been seeing was nothing too interesting. "Has anything happened recently?"

"I've been watching it," Leonardo said, using his patient older brother voice. "Strangely, very little has changed. It's almost as though construction takes a long time to complete, especially construction related to government projects."

He pulled a face at him. Everyone had to be a comedian. Even the turtle with a partially-functioning sense of humor. "It doesn't hurt to check."

"If there are any sudden explosions, we will be the first to know," Leonardo said in tones of grave amusement. He then gave him a sympathetic look. "Meanwhile, we should make sure everything important is ready in case we do need to leave quickly. That should give you something to expend your restless energy on. I'm getting tired of all this waiting too, but-"

"I know," Donatello cut in. "It's just irritating." Which was a mild way to put the mixture of edginess and stir-crazy boredom he was feeling right now. Having the most evil man in the city decide to set up shop within walking distance of your cleverly-disguised home was horribly nerve-wracking, and waiting through the initial set-up to see what they had to look forward to was maddening. Part of him wanted to just move now and save themselves the hassle later, home sweet home or no.

Tesla curled around his foot and demanded to be petted. Spoiled rotten cat. He bent down and picked him up, stroking the soft fur on his head, and he settled into his arms and purred. Donatello looked at his thoughtfully. "What do you think about me making an automatic cat feeder?"

"I think it will take away the sense of purpose we get in the approximately three minutes it takes to feed the cats," Leonardo said dryly. "Try another boredom project, please."

Another boredom project turned out to be sorting through a pile of scrap metal he'd scavenged out of the dump, picking through various bits of scrap and sorting them into piles based on metal type. Mostly this stuff was various kinds of steel, metal they used to make weapons or tools with. Meanwhile, Leonardo had selected a nice car spring to use for some new throwing knives and was going through the process of heating up the forge to begin the process of knife-creation.

Since they didn't get into as many battles as they used to, they went through fewer weapons, especially since they didn't use shuriken or knives all that often in a fight, anyway. Their main use was distraction or scare tactics, unless they really felt like attempting to kill someone a few yards away in total darkness with a thrown weapon.

They were quite good at aiming at long-range, Leonardo especially, but that strategy was high-risk. It was also especially irritating because throwing any weapon almost guaranteed losing it, unless you were prepared to spend a lot of time pawing around in the dark. And throwing knives themselves were little good in a close fight, their handles not meant to be clenched tightly and gripped while slashing or stabbing.

As it was, they went through about ten to fifteen knives on a really busy month and five to six on a not-so-busy month. Fortunately, they were cheap if time-consuming to make, and car springs or truck springs from the dump kept them in a good supply of 5160 steel- the low end of high carbon with some chromium mixed in for hardness. It held an edge very well and still remained light enough to be thrown with a good amount of speed. Some kinds of steel made a far too bulky knife for this to work, and they tended to use that for hunting or skinning knives, for when they went on a car trip to the woods to improve their food supply.

Leonardo had some workable steel out already, ready to be forged into a nice, bladelike shape. His knives were usually very simple, but ridiculously efficient- thin and just the right shape to be truly deadly. They learned a while ago that kunai, while not horrible weapons, were not the best thrown ones. He'd looked up a variety of knife shapes for them to try out before they settled on their preferred ones- not that it particularly mattered in the case of desperation, they could throw pretty much anything. Although Donatello despaired of handle-heavy throwing knives, you had to grip them from the blade and they didn't turn out as accurate as blade-heavy or center-balanced.

Really, the whole thrown weapon thing wasn't his forte, anyway. He preferred something that could stay in his hands.

He watched as his brother started shaping the blade, hammering the steel in careful, measured motions. "So," he said, when there was a break from the noise, "Any word from the Foot?" Donatello distinctly used the name of the clan rather than the name of the person who they typically contacted for information, since his brother's working relationship with her could often get complicated. He wasn't looking to make it that kind of conversation.

Leonardo still gave him a dubious look, as if waiting for the question to go any further. Donatello merely raised his eye ridges at him and waited for a response, so he sighed and answered. "Not this week, no. Is there any reason why you're asking?"

"I'm perpetually curious," he said dryly. "You can't think of one?"

Another flat look. "I can think of a few."

Donatello nobly refrained from rolling his eyes. "Well, my reason today is that it looks like there's a possible suspicious element wandering around our places, poking his nose in our business and suspiciously intruding in our friend's store. I just thought that since we seem to have an entire network of ninjas who could be either behind it and in league with Bishop, which I really doubt, or could be aware of something, which is entirely possible, it would be a good idea to go ask if they have any idea what's going on."

And it had absolutely nothing to do with Leonardo and the Foot's leader making eyes at each other, so he could just stop giving him the 'waiting for the punch line' look now, thanks.

Leonardo's expression shifted from wary anticipation, to realization, to mild embarrassment. "Oh. Right."

"And if they don't know," he continued in a very reasonable tone, "We could even ask for a favor and have them check it out, with them being professional ninjas and all." The sarcasm slipped in near the end, and he didn't bother to hide it. No point, really.

There was a distinct lack of a response to that as Leonardo struggled with trying to say something that wouldn't make him look like too much of an idiot.

Donatello unsuccessfully tried to hide his amusement. Jumped the gun a little, didn't you? He couldn't hold back a quick jab, since his brother had practically held open the door for him to do so. "Don't worry about it, Leo," he said reassuringly, "We all have stupid moments. Yours just happen to be any time Karai is mentioned." It wasn't a very kind remark to make, but he figured Leonardo would get over it soon enough.

Just as he'd expected, Leonardo's eyes narrowed in irritation, his shoulders tightening at the remark. "Speaking of stupid moments, do you really want to be making comments like that when I have a hammer in my hand and am in throwing distance?"

He smirked. "Are you saying I'm allowed to if I'm far enough away for it to be considered tactically sound?"

Leonardo crossed his arms. "Fine," he said in a deceptively patient tone. "Can you think of any place in this lair that would count as a tactically sound area?" and with that description, he obviously meant: 'any place in which you could hide that I couldn't find you out and eventually make you pay.'

Since there really wasn't a place in their home or really anywhere in earshot of his brother that wouldn't make it possible for Leonardo to exact payback, the answer was quite clearly a no. "Probably not," he conceded. "So if I'm going to do it, I might as well make it worth it."

An annoyed sigh followed by the loud, repetitive hammering of metal against metal was his only response to that, as Leonardo used the old option of: 'ignore this shit until the annoying younger brother goes away.' That wasn't going to work this time, not that it really did, usually. Still, Donatello waited until he'd finished pounding the steel into shape to continue the conversation, changing topics smoothly.

"Also, I need to go back to the old Illyntian lair to retrieve some of the crystals," he said. "I was going to run some experiments on using them as an energy source, but the samples I took last time have already been depleted."

Frowning, Leonardo looked at him. "That place isn't anywhere near stable. The tech Karai left there is out of service by now, but the place may very well cave in at any second. I don't like the idea of you hanging off the ceiling, trying to pry those things out."

The objection was entirely expected. He'd thought about the sorry state of that particular old home, too, but decided that the risk was worth it. "There's nowhere else I can easily obtain them," he explained. Sure, they could try to go check out the lava-buried wreckage of the Illyntian city, but that would take ages and a lot of effort that he wasn't willing to expend. "Besides," he added, "I'm sure we can handle one little cave in. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Aside from being crushed to death by falling rubble?" Leonardo asked, in the sarcastic-yet-indulgent tone that told him he might as well have agreed to go already. "Fine," he added, confirming it. "Just don't take too long digging them out of there. That won't disturb the ceiling enough to cave it in, will it?"

Donatello shrugged. "We'll find out." He smiled at his brother's expression of half-feigned dismay. "Joking. It shouldn't. Probably."

"Probably." Leonardo sighed. "One of these days you're going to off yourself in a spectacular explosion of karma, and it's a sad, sad thing that I won't be able to enter you for the Darwin awards."

"Hey!" he pointed a screwdriver at him, "You benefit from all of this. You get nice security, working electrical circuits, surveillance cameras, and you can watch your soaps whenever you want."

"Yes, Don," Leonardo said, in a solemn, dry tone, "The only price I pay for all of this is my sanity."

Grinning, Donatello executed another careless shrug. He knew Leonardo was probably dying for the opportunity to do something aside from make weapons they may or may not be throwing at people, and aside from picking fights in alleyways, checking up on really slow construction work, and listen to a teenager sing along to some music they didn't recognize or care about, there hadn't been much to do around the place lately. That was, on one hand, good. It gave them time to plan and strategize and possibly pack for when they might have to leave. On the other hand, well…he was running out of boredom projects to work on, and he doubted his brother had any at all.

"Dare I ask what the energy crystals are supposed to be powering?" Leonardo asked, pulling off the thick gloves he'd been wearing to protect his fingers from burns. They all had some scars on their hands from when they first started learning how to forge weapons and hadn't yet absorbed the importance of safety equipment. Sometimes he wondered if he could remember a time before scars.

"At this point?" Donatello said, "Probably the toaster. Stupid thing's been on the fritz all week."

There was always something horribly painful about seeing their old childhood homes in their various states of ruin, but this one wasn't nearly as bad as the others. Their first home had been theirs for fifteen years, all of their younger childhood and formative years spent making memories that were ripped apart by Stockman's machines. Their last home together as a family- well, that was obvious enough, and the less thought of that place, the better. But this had only been their home briefly, not long enough to make a lasting impression in his mind. There were, of course, fond memories and painful ones for this place- the wreckage and remnants of Foot tech were testament enough to that, but coming here didn't elicit the same nostalgic ache.

At the moment, he was dangling from the ceiling in a harness, prying around the edges of one of the crystal formations and trying not to damage the thing. There were some truly huge chunks of crystal in this, but he was going for some of the smaller ones: easier to remove, easier to transport, easier to work with. Although the larger ones presented some interesting opportunities, which he planned on experimenting with when he managed to put something together to allow him to safely get the crystals from ceiling to floor without shattering anything.

"Almost done up there?" Leonardo asked, leaning against one of the pillars with his arms folded and watching him. As if he didn't know that this was going to take forever and a day.

Donatello considered throwing down one of the pieces of rock he'd chipped away from the base of the crystal, then decided it wasn't worth it. He wasn't at a good angle to throw it, Leonardo wasn't in a good location for the throw to even hit, and even if he was, his brother would easily catch or dodge it anyway. He settled for muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath.

The smile on Leonardo's face told him he'd heard that. Oh well. "If you're getting impatient, you could help," he reminded him. He'd extracted two crystals so far, while Leonardo had spent most of the time standing nearby and being a statue. Probably reaching a semi-meditative, but still conscious state. Sometimes he felt as though Leonardo missed his calling as a high holy monk- which was a shame, with their violent lifestyle. Then again, his calm, controlled brother hid a murderous streak of his own under all the tightly-leashed self-discipline.

"I'd help you, but someone has to stand guard," said Leonardo, still smirking.

Donatello snorted. "The only things likely to attack us here are sewer rats." This was far off from the construction site and had the added benefit of being a crumbling mess to ward off potential enemies. He slipped slightly with the chisel and cursed under his breath.

Something crunched under his brother's foot as he took a step closer. "Don't fall." The admonition was more amused than concerned, but he could hear the undertone there all the same. Not that Leonardo really expected him to take a dive, but he was sure his brother's worrywart nature was getting the better of him.

"Hardly," Donatello said, dryly. "If anything, you'll have to worry about one of these falling down and causing a cave-in."

"Thanks, Don," Leonardo grimaced, "That possibility fills me with nothing but relief." The way he shifted and glanced towards the available entrance told him that he was thinking of that very real prospect, no matter how jokingly Donatello had put it. It was always a pain in the neck to get stuck in a cave-in while a ridiculous distance underground, especially if they got separated, and even more so if they were killed in the ensuing avalanche of wreckage.

Although, when he thought about it, that event would be horrible for the short time it took for them to be crushed to death, and after that would be fine. (Or an unknown quantity, since what happened after death was anyone's guess.)

Meanwhile, his thoughts were definitely on a dark turn. Now was the time to attempt to think happier thoughts. "So, you got a call from April today," he said, conversationally, as the crystal finally started to come loose. "What did she have to say?"

The moment of hesitation that followed that question wasn't very long, but it was long enough to be noticeable and definitely long enough for Donatello to get the funny feeling in his stomach that meant he was going to be sorry for asking. Leonardo flicked his eyes away before responding: "She got a message from Raph."

So much for lightening his mood. Donatello felt the familiar bitterness clog his throat, settle in his stomach like a lead weight. "Really?" he said, trying to sound apathetic. "Then I guess he's still alive. Good to know."

He didn't have to look at Leonardo's face, he could hear the wince in his voice. "Don…"

"It's fine." His mouth tightened- with the anger or the pain or both, he couldn't tell. "Maybe we should just send our missives to April to give to Raph, since she's more likely than either of us to get any signs of life out of him." He was gripping the chisel far too hard, and any excessive force would damage the crystal he was working on. Donatello inhaled slowly, carefully adjusting his grip. There really was no good cause for him to be this upset, he reasoned. Raphael's downright- thoughtless behavior had been an ongoing issue, and probably would continue to be one until the end of time. No reason for him to feel this betrayed any time April got the messages and not them.

"How's he doing?" he asked finally, not looking at his brother's face as he did so. He couldn't handle whatever emotion he saw there.

Another hesitation, probably Leonardo gauging what he was feeling at the moment. "You know Raph. I think if he was bleeding to death and sick with malaria he'd write that he was fine. He didn't mention how he was, but he seems to be doing well enough. Says he's traveling."

"He's always traveling," Donatello muttered. Still, if Raphael was on the road, it meant he wasn't badly injured or badly ill. Then again, 'traveling' could mean he was on the run from whoever he had managed to piss off or make an enemy of, and Raphael was really spectacular at making enemies. If that particular brother got within arm's reach of him, he would gladly and cheerfully strangle him, both for his neglect to contact them and also for being so completely useless when he did.

"Not always. I'm sure he rests occasionally in a nice swamp."

"Oh, right. How could I forget. And then there are those times when he stays still long enough to put a basic field dressing on before charging back into a horrible situation." The few times Raphael had come back to visit, he'd regaled them with stories that made both of them want to either have a heart attack and die on the spot or have a tremendously long lecture on the importance of tactics. Apparently those weren't on a high scale of importance to Raphael, who tended to fly headfirst into conflict and to hell with all that consequence nonsense. None of this made not hearing from him any more fun.

"What was it last time? Something about an underground drug ring and some smuggled advanced technology," Leonardo said, clearly trying to turn the conversation towards some kind of positive nostalgia. Since the nostalgia was about his brother's near-death experiences, it wasn't really working.

"Something like that, yes," he said noncommittally, finally managing to dislodge the crystal.

"And then-" Leonardo didn't finish what else Raphael did the last time he was traveling because at that moment there was a faint sound of something scraping against stone. His eyes narrowed and his expression made the quick change from placating to deadly serious.

The flutter of movement on the edge of the doorframe told him they'd been being watched by someone- or something, and he abandoned crystal-gathering right away, un-strapping himself from his harness and dropping to the ground as Leonardo drew his swords and rushed out after the possible intruder.

All of this took no more than a few seconds- with him taking considerably longer than his brother due to being strapped in a safety harness, but he'd designed the thing so he could release himself quickly in the case of an attack. Still, by the time he sprinted out to join his brother, bo staff in hand, Leonardo had already cornered the culprit, who he'd evidently knocked to the ground to keep from escaping. Sprawled on the floor, looking terrified and pale, was the kid. Steve Kalawinsky.

"What do you know. It's you," Donatello said in a mock-casual tone, putting his bo staff back. There wasn't any need for it with this kid, especially not with Leonardo still with his weapons out. "We just keep running into each other, don't we?"

"I'm curious to know why that is." Leonardo looked grim, one sword pointed at the cowering boy on the ground, the other lowered only slightly. The menace in his tone was unmistakable.

The kid had his eyes fixed on the weapon like he thought if he looked away, the sword would impale him. (Which, if he'd been an older enemy, wouldn't be far from the truth. They'd had many other spies, and most of them had died. ) The boy was pressing himself against the floor in a desperate attempt to get away from the weapon, and didn't look like he was in any state of mind to answer any questions. His mouth opened as though he was trying to say something, but nothing came out but unintelligible stuttering.

All of that- fear, terror, panic, was expected. What was really damning was the recognition Donatello saw in Steve's eyes. There was no reason for it to be there, no reason for any normal human child to recognize them when he saw them…unless the child in question had been shown pictures of them. Unless the child in question was working for someone who knew them. That, more than anything else, cemented their suspicion that this boy was a spy, or at least, someone that was sent to cause them harm. His continued presence in the sewers even after they'd threatened him meant that he might continue to come- unless they made this confrontation suitably intimidating.

And more frightening than the last time would have to get physically painful. On some level, he felt sorry for the kid. He was, in the end, just a teenager. Maybe he was even being pressured into this. Still, their survival came first and foremost. That didn't make it much easier to threaten a kid with weapons like this.

"Well?" Leonardo demanded. The added harshness in his voice made it clear that he'd seen it, too, and wasn't going to show any mercy. Steve's mouth worked frantically in response to the order, still stumbling through words he was too terrified to form, and he raised his arms up protectively in front of his face as if to ward off any attacks.

Unfortunately, Leonardo didn't have the patience to deal with the kid's terror, and he moved the sword an inch or two closer to the boy's face in a blatant threat. "Answer me," he snarled. Donatello suppressed a wince as the sharp edge drew close enough to cut if the kid moved even a few inches. God forbid he make any sudden movements.

"I don't-" Steve spluttered, trying to scoot backwards from the blade, "I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" Donatello interrupted, "Didn't know we would be working here? I find that very difficult to believe. We heard your innocent bystander routine, so try another story."

Steve fixed his gaze on first Leonardo's face, then Donatello's, seeking out their eyes. He shook his head, confusion blending in with terror. "Y-you're not supposed to- be here."

"I could say the same thing about you," Leonardo said coldly. "And yet, here we are. Who told you about us? Who said that we wouldn't be here?"

"Nobody, I just…I…" Steve started stammering again.

The kid was breathing oddly, like he was on the edge of hyperventilation. In response to Donatello's statement, he just squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hands closer to his face, which made it easier for him to notice that they were shaking. The light wasn't too good, but he'd place a bet that he was breaking into a sweat. A glance at Leonardo told him that his brother had noticed the same thing. Could be the sword that's frightening him so much, he thought, flicking a glance at the weapon. He hadn't been nearly this bad when being cornered and threatened by shadowed madmen in the sewers.

Then again, they hadn't been visible at that point, and he could just be scared witless by stories of what they'd do to him if they caught him.

Leonardo pulled the sword back and sheathed it, keeping the other at his side as he pulled the boy up by his shirt with one hand. Steve flailed out at first, trying to fight it, but stopped when Leonardo gave him a hard shake. "Listen to me very carefully," he said with slow deliberation, "Because I won't be repeating myself."

He shoved Steve up against the wall, hard. Hard enough to send his head smacking backwards into it with a loud smacking sound and a jolt that chattered his teeth and made Donatello wince yet again. "It doesn't matter who sent you. If they send you again, they will not be getting you back. I don't want to see you down here again. That means anywhere in the sewers."

Another hard shake, shoving him against hard brick and concrete again. He'd undoubtedly have more bruises the next morning, and possibly a lump on the back of his head. Leonardo tightened his grip. "Have I made myself clear?"

Steve's fingers were clutching tightly at Leonardo's arms. Not trying to free himself, but trying to regain a sense of stability for the next shake he was clearly trying to prepare for. He stuttered his way through a 'yes' before Leonardo dropped him, sending him sprawling hard back on the floor. Steve landed on his hip and upper thigh this time, not his ankle, although the landing looked painful enough. He backed up a pace, indecisively, unsure if they would attack him again if he ran.

"Get out," Leonardo ordered in a low, dark tone that demanded obedience.

Steve backed up a few more blind paces, fumbling behind him for something- ah, his backpack, then when his fingers closed around one of the straps, he got to his feet. Lurched to them, rather, then took a few quick, stumbling steps before breaking into a dead run, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the quiet of the sewers. They waited until he was long gone before turning back to each other.

Leonardo's expression was grim, but he could sense the concern behind it. This was the third time they'd sent the kid packing, and they couldn't afford to make idle threats. They'd have to decide what to do with the kid if they found him again- and their life being what it was, they just might. Which meant a hard decision would have to be made soon, and neither of them truly wanted to harm the boy- especially not permanently.

Donatello let out a sigh. "I think I have enough crystals now," he said. Not entirely true, but he could always come back later. A glance at Leonardo told him he was still looking solemn, though this time he was rubbing at the place where Steve had dug his fingers into the skin of his arm. "Look at it this way," he said consolingly, "You didn't break his ankle this time."

His brother's eyes flashed with anger. "I really hate Bishop," he said through gritted teeth.

Right. Using a kid against them so their only choices were to hurt the kid or relinquish information to be used against them was low, but not the lowest their enemy had stooped. Not even close.

"I know," he said curtly, not willing to think about him. "Let's go home."