Sorry for the hiatus – suffered a near-catastrophic computer death. But all is well now!
Still don't own the TMNT or Godzilla or HEAT or...yeah. This is just in homage to the awesomeness that is.
Enjoy!
"Hold still, Don," Elsie said gently, putting a hand on his cold shoulder. "This will hurt, but we've done what we can to numb the site."
"I know," he replied tightly. It was ironic, Donatello considered, that here he was, back on HEAT's table in the lab, and strapped down. But this time it was by his own volition. He had given them permission to experiment, and to do that, they couldn't be worried about his ninja reflexes. Or his fear.
"Here we go," Nick said softly. As firmly and smoothly as possible, he inserted the trephine into his friend's skull, navigating as carefully as he could. They'd marked the spot on the back of Don's head, and he had also marked on the implement exactly how deep to penetrate. It was critical beyond critical to get a sample of the rapidly-expanding material in Donatello's cranium so they knew what they were dealing with, before it was too late. Already the thing had more than quadrupled in size from their first MRI. There was no time to lose.
As the implement passed through his skin, Don sucked in air sharply with pain, but he held still. As she had once before, Elsie took his hand, holding it in her own as he clenched his fist tightly. His eyes, that she knew could be so gentle and intelligent, were bright with pain and fear from under the shadows. From the way his body twitched, she could tell every instinct was driving him to push himself up from the table. But he had to lie still, face-down, until they'd finished. That was why Don himself had insisted on the restraints.
"Just another second," Nick breathed, willing himself to be calm. Don needed the best medical care in the city – that he had to make do with HEAT was bad enough. He needed Nick at his best.
"Are you ready with the antiseptic?" Elsie called over her shoulder to Mendel. The blond scientist nodded mutely, trying hard not to look at the scarily-big needle in Donatello's head. It made him woozy.
"There! We're done! Mendel!" Nick called, but he was already on his way. While Elsie took the sample straight to the lab for preservation and study, Dr Craven served as Nick's nurse to patch up the hole they'd made in the turtle's head.
"Donnie? Stay with us," Craven said, noticing the patient starting to fade as the tension in his muscles seemed to melt. "Don!"
"Allow me." Monique stepped up from out of nowhere and expertly struck the turtle's forearm, much as a nun would crack the knuckles of a pupil. At once, Donatello's eyes opened and cleared, though he did not raise his head; he was, after all, still being patched up.
"How did you do that?" Randy asked from his perch across the room.
"I surmised that all the turtles would be trained to respond to their sensei in a similar manner if they were lax in their training or meditation," she replied evenly.
"Yeah," Donatello's voice was a little breathy, but steady. "Master Splinter usually bops us in the head if we're kneeling, on the arm if we're training. And the head…maybe not such a good idea right now."
"Indeed," Monique gave the turtle one of her rare encouraging smiles. "Thank you for not passing out. It would have been inconvenient to revive you."
"You're welcome, I guess."
"You should probably lie there a while longer," Elsie reappeared at his side, her eyes wide with concern. "We can start the testing while you recover."
At that moment, however, a familiar ringtone sounded, and Don attempted to grab his phone from his belt. However, his wrists were still restrained. Randy jumped up and grabbed the Shell Cell for him.
"Donatello's Pizza Service, Randy the Man speaking. Would you like to try our specials?"
"Randy!" Mendel sighed. The hacker grinned, then listened intently for a few moments. Slightly more soberly, he held out the phone for the turtle.
"Leo? What's…?" Don was visibly trying to make his voice sound normal, and from over the phone, it was probably successful. "He did WHAT? Okay, stay there. I'm on my way!" The phone clicked off and Randy closed it.
"What's happening?" Monique demanded.
"Looks like Raph wandered off. And he took one of the breathers."
"Which means what exactly?" Nick wanted to know.
"That he's probably going down to Bishop's hideout at the bottom of the river. By himself. That shell-for-brains," he grimaced. "Let me up. I've got to get to them to help."
"Um, you just had brain surgery," Randy pointed out. "I don't think a fight is in the doctor's prescription."
"I know," the turtle sighed, "but my family needs me. We'd have no shot against Bishop without some technological edge, which is me."
"Let him up," Nick ordered, an odd look in his face. "It's his decision."
"I'll start analyzing this," Elsie pointed back to her station. Randy and Monique each took a wrist and unfastened the turtle, while Nick ran around to his feet. Craven gathered Don's bag and brought it to him. The turtle sat up quickly, swinging his feet to the ground. He was up and a few steps away when he began to sway.
"Don!"
Nick dove forward, catching the turtle's shoulders as his knees buckled and they both went to the floor. Don's skin was clammy, and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow.
"He's out cold," Nick reported. "And the stitches aren't holding," he added when he saw a trickle of blood leaking down the turtle's neck. "We'll have to use regular bandages until we get something stronger to close up the incision."
"You're pretty chill, jefe," Randy commented.
"I knew this would happen," he replied. "Mutant ninja or not, there was too much invasion into the cranium, and too much local anesthetic. It was inevitable, really. He probably knew as much, but he had to try anyway."
"But his family needs him, he told us that. What do we do?" Mendel asked.
"It is simple." Monique strode forward, picking up the Shell Cell. "Donatello will remain here and you will care for him as is needed. I will take his place in assisting his brothers."
"You can't. You don't even know how to find them," Elsie argued.
"I have this." She held up the phone.
"Fine, but as soon as we get Don settled, I'm going with you," Nick said. "Elsie, Craven, you two work on analyzing that sample. Randy, you take care of Donnie." The room erupted in dissent, but he waved a hand at the objections. "If we're underwater, there's one trump card I can bring to the fight if we need it, but only if I'm there. We'll be fine."
It took three of them to get Donatello back on the table, face-up this time, and another five minutes for Nick to call Leonardo and talk him into the plan, but then all was ready. Monique gathered a few of her slightly-less-lethal weapons and one of her bags of secret gear that always seemed helpful, nodding sharply at the turtle's prone form.
"Do not allow him to be concerned when he wakes," she ordered Randy. "We will serve his family with honor."
"Just take care, you guys," Elsie called, bandaging the head-wound they'd created so recently. Nick grinned at her with the sort of smile that usually meant he was having way too much fun getting himself in over his head. There was an echo of Godzilla in the expression somehow, of the mutant's fierce strength and battle-readiness. On anybody else, it would be a little worrying, but with Nick, it was reassuring. "Come back safe," she added.
"We will."
-==OOO==-
"Hey Leo?" Mikey asked, shifting his perch slightly.
"Yeah?"
"Did they say why Don isn't coming?"
"No, they didn't." Leonardo fought the urge to fidget. What more could go wrong? First Don had stormed off so uncharacteristically angry, then Raphael had apparently taken it into his head to launch a private war against Bishop, and now Don was "occupied" and couldn't help his brothers bail Raph out from whatever trouble he was in. That was the word Nick had used, "occupied." That was less than helpful for sure.
"What do you think is going on?" Michelangelo wanted to know. The tone of his voice was subdued still – he still hadn't quite regained his usual cheerfulness after Don's explosion in the lair.
"I don't know," the leader of the turtles said, sounding more like Raphael than he would have guessed, "but when we get Raph back, you better believe I'm going to find out."
Two human shapes appeared on the dock below from a small boat, and without so much as a gesture, Leo and Mikey simultaneously jumped from their rooftop hiding place, using a convenient stack of crates to make their way to the ground. One of the humans swung around a moment later, gun drawn, but lowered the firearm as the turtles stepped into the dim light of the area.
"You are here. Very well. Where is your brother?" Monique went straight to business, holstering the sidearm.
"Underwater. His tracker shows he's been moving around a little, but he's definitely in Bishop's lair down there," Leo answered.
"So what's the plan?" Nick wanted to know.
"We sneak in, grab Raph, pound some sense into him, and get out of there."
"Straightforward, stealthy, optimistic, and with a dose of brotherly discipline. Standard Leo plan. I'm in!" Michelangelo shrugged.
"Do you really think they don't know he's there already?" the Frenchwoman asked.
"They probably know he's there. I'm just hoping he's made enough noise that they won't notice us join the party," Leonardo returned. "We know the layout, and so does Raph. If he put any thought into this, which I doubt, he'll have stuck to the outer areas where escape is easiest."
"Every moment we waste we risk your brother's life. Let's move," Monique stated.
"Just one question," Mikey said. "How are you two getting there? We've got these, but they're not really shaped for non-turtle heads," and he held up the breathers.
"Oh, we came prepared," Nick replied, holding up a mask of his own. "And if we get into real trouble, we'll call for backup. Big, mutant, friendly backup." He smiled.
"All right. But not unless I give you the word," Leonardo said. "It's not that we don't trust you, or Godzilla, but that's my brother down there. Let's get going, and hopefully we won't need your backup at all."
As the four jumped into the boat HEAT had brought, its near-silent motor carrying it as quietly across the shadows as it could, Leonardo looked at the humans. Monique was totally closed, focused on the mission, with not so much as a crack in her exterior armor to betray anything. But Nick was deep in thought, his brow furrowed.
"Leonardo," Nick said after a long silence, "this isn't the time, but when we're done here, I think there's something you should know."
"I know there is," the blue-clad turtle tried to keep any impatience out of his voice. "But one brother at a time. When we get Raph, then you are going to tell me what's up with Don."
Monique and Nick exchanged a look, but before either could speak, a wave erupted in front of the boat, and it was only Nick's practice steering various watercraft in difficult conditions that kept them from capsizing.
"That looks like an explosion from under the water!" Mikey pointed out.
The four gave that idea just one moment of thought before all of them donned their breathing masks and dove. Apparently, they had arrived just in time.
-==OOO==-
Monique had infiltrated many places in her years of service, from well-guarded state institutions to the ferry-house that had become her current base of operations. She had traveled the world in the company of HEAT, dealing with all manner of mutations and monsters. And she had a unique amount of information on the activities of several major world governments, their secret projects, their unspoken pacts. She was generally a jaded person, no longer surprised when secret agencies had surprises in store for those foolish or desperate enough to trouble them.
But even she had never seen this.
"What agency has access to this sort of technology?" she asked, staring at a control panel that reminded her very much of the alien Tachyon race's stronghold on Monster Island.
Nick stared at the chamber, suppressing a shiver that came from more than the chill of the water that still clung to him. Finding the entrance Raphael had created and exploiting it had been easy, as well as following his movements. It seemed that Leonardo and Michelangelo had either a deeply instinctual knowledge of their brother and the plausible way he would behave, or some kind of extra-sensory awareness of each other, for they had unerringly followed an invisible trail without using any obvious technology. Until, that is, the trail become visible.
The dome-shaped room was large, its walls orange and covered with what looked almost like organic formations that bore a resemblance to eggs or pods of some sort. These were mostly empty, but they had obviously once held something, as a few were still wet, their shells pulled open and a yellowish fluid still dripping onto the floor. A few agents, black-clad as those who had attacked the group before, had been piled in the middle of the space, unconscious and bruised. A door had been torn or kicked open, and the sounds of fighting wafted through the doorway to echo in the room.
"Bishop," Michelangelo answered Monique. "He has all the best toys!" And though it was a joke, there was a dark undercurrent in the words.
"This way. Come on!" Leonardo called, pushing forward. The orange-banded turtle was at his heels, leaving the humans to bring up the rear as they sprinted towards the battle. A few twisting corridors later and the group nearly collided with a dozen more agents, and one very angry turtle.
"Bring it on!" Raphael roared. "Gimme whatcha got! And when I'm done with you, you'll tell me where to find that no-good Bishop! He's gonna pay for what he did!"
"Raph!"
"Stay outta this, Leo," the red-clad turtle grunted without even looking up. "This is personal."
A few of the agents flooding into the hallway turned away from their original target, and the four new arrivals found themselves in the middle of a close-quarters fight. Monique and Nick held their position and managed to keep from being overwhelmed, while the other turtles made their way towards their wayward brother.
"Raph, what the shell are you thinking?" Leo exploded as he executed a kick that dropped two attackers. "Personal? If this is about Don, it's something for all of us!"
"Yeah! You can't hog all the bad guys!" Mikey put in. He clobbered one guy and jumped to intercept a few more who were heading for the HEAT contingent.
"You don't understand!"
"Explain later!" Monique shouted sharply over the din. "Escape now."
"Not without Bishop!" Raphael raged.
"What makes you think he's still here?" Leonardo demanded. "He's probably long gone. This whole thing is a trap!"
"Trap?" Mikey asked.
"If those are any indication," Nick called, using a break in his own fist-fight to point to some hefty wiring running along the ceiling to some ominous-looking black boxes at each junction in the hallway, "I'd say this whole place is set to blow!"
"We gotta get the shell out of here!" Mikey squeaked.
"Agreed. Raph! Retreat!" Leo shouted. But his brother seemed not to hear him, charging forward with abandon.
"You bring Bishop down here and you make him face me! See how easy it is to mess with my family with my sai up his-"
"Raphael!" Monique's voice cut through the noise. She executed a beautiful kick that threw three men to their knees and earned a cheer from Michelangelo. "I understand your rage. But you will not be able to help Donatello if you are killed!"
"Please, Raph," Leo said, cutting his way to his brother's side and putting a hand on his elbow, restraining a punch for someone who was already on their way to the floor. "Please. We've got to go."
Eyes of fury met Leo's calm ones, and to the blue-clad turtle's surprise, the sweat that dripped from Raphael's beak looked suspiciously like tear tracks and his eyes were bright and fierce. Whatever had set Raph off, it was no little thing. Raph's irate gaze burned, then widened almost imperceptibly and a bit of the fire cooled. Leo felt the shaking tension of untold anger lessen under his grip.
"All right. I'll pull back for now. But I'm gettin' my revenge, Leo, and you ain't stoppin' me next time!" The turtle returned his sais to their customary places on his belt and carelessly sent the agent approaching his other side into a wall. His stance was still belligerent and angry, but he had bowed to orders at last.
"This way, dudes!" Mikey called, signaling another tunnel almost forgotten off to one side. He cleared a few unfortunate individuals from the path, waving Nick and Monique in. The remaining two turtles met him and sprinted down the darkened hallway.
"Where does this lead?" Monique asked from up ahead.
"I dunno," the orange-banded turtle shrugged. "It was just the closest!"
The hallway turned and dipped several times until all five intruders were disoriented. The lights in this section were dimmer than the others, and sometimes there was more shadow than illumination as they careened through the base. After a few minutes of moving, Nick stopped and put up a hand.
"Hear that?"
"Hear what?" Raph grumbled.
"Nothing," Leonardo said, sheathing his katanas and listening closely. "Nobody following us. No alarms."
"Um…that's not good, is it?" Michelangelo gulped.
"Indeed it is not," Monique said, looking around sharply. "They have called a retreat. Which can only mean…"
"That they're preparing to blow this thing up," Nick finished.
"Shell!" Raphael punched a wall. Then he turned so he could see Leo and Mikey, keeping his face from the humans. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't…"
"Worry about it later," Leo ordered. "We're not sunk yet." He looked up at Nick and nodded, his expression serious. "Do it."
Nick closed his eyes. It was not hard to reach Godzilla – the lizard had been hovering on the edges of his mind since the first spike of adrenaline in the boat. From the beginning of the fight, Godzilla had wanted to tear the roof off the underwater stronghold and rescue his parent, but Nick had resisted. Among other things, he knew if Godzilla interfered, it would mean everyone without a breather on their hip, mainly Bishop's agents, would probably drown. And bad guys or no, Nick couldn't let Godzilla be responsible for that kind of murder.
But now he opened his mind to his charge, the anxious and protective presence nearly overwhelming in its intensity. With his many instances of practice, Nick pushed through the instincts to Godzilla's mind itself. From there, he was with Godzilla completely, seeing through his eyes, feeling through his senses. It was a conscious sharing they usually left only for those times Nick experienced riding the ocean currents, the joy of the speed and power of an enormous and scientifically improbable creature. But this time, it served a far more strategic purpose: it allowed them to combine Nick's planning and awareness with Godzilla's strength. As expected, the mutant was just outside the underwater complex, hovering. Together they watched little pods eject themselves from the domed construct, and even through the water they could smell humans inside.
Nick turned their attention back to the building, speaking directly to Godzilla now. "Okay, big guy. Come get us."
There was a rushing sensation, and Nick quickly separated himself. He opened his eyes even as his heartbeat sped up, the anger and possessiveness of Godzilla flowing through his blood. He nodded at the others and prepared to pull his own mask on.
"Shouldn't be long now."
Leonardo's face was a picture of confusion, and the turtle started to say something. Nick realized belatedly that only Donatello knew of his particular bond with Godzilla, and true to his word, hadn't told his brothers. But there was no time for him to explain. Scarcely a moment later, sounds of creaking and bending metal echoed down the passageways and the rush of water could be heard all around them.
"Um, not to jinx us or anything," Michelangelo began as he and the rest hurriedly donned their breathers, "but when you start breaking stuff that's gonna explode, or if you make sparks, doesn't it usually explode anyway?"
The other turtles and the two humans froze, their faces all falling as his words settled over them. None felt they could move or even breathe, until Monique raised one hand to her forehead in a pained gesture.
And everything vanished in sudden, smoky fire.