So, I had been toying with the idea of putting these up one at a time, with days in between. And decided that was mean. Especially for those of you who really love this story. Instead, you're getting the whole thing here and now. We've made it through and we're about to hit the big finale. The following is for all of the remaining chapters. And be on the lookout - I'm thinking I might do a oneshot in each universe that can be read alone (so not in the crossover section) but specific to this story. If that happens, I don't think I can link them together, but I'll put in the description that it's a part of this larger plot.
Disclaimer: I still don't own the TMNT, Godzilla the Series, or anything else that comes out in this story. The tale is mine, but I'm just borrowing the characters from everybody else. And thanks for them.
I owe a tremendous thank you to everyone who has read this far. Some of you have even taken the time to comment on every chapter, or to send me long, thoughtful responses to this story. It is an honor to have earned your high regard and the rest of this is for you all.
A special thanks before I sign off and let the teams tell the story – thanks to Macx, who gave me permission forever ago to use the version of Godzilla from "Deep Water." Couldn't have gotten here without that.
So long from me for now! Enjoy!
Bishop looked over the warehouse, taking in everything but allowing no emotion to cloud his perception. As he had expected, as soon as he launched an attack with the Godzilla clones, Donatello had turned on his apparently repaired sonic weapon, rendering the creatures nearly motionless. If he had cared to allow it, the agent would have been thoroughly annoyed. Apparently his unstoppable weapon, these mini-Godzillas, could be overcome by one turtle and a hand-held device, meaning were probably not the key he needed in his war to defend the planet. More precious time and resources lost.
With the horde immobilized, the turtle team had set to attacking directly, and it was only because Bishop had so many agents that he himself had not yet been pressed into the fray. This gave him the time to observe. He checked off several notes to himself, about how the turtles seemed to have learned some new techniques, about how his men more needed training in combat, disdainfully noticing the apparent ease with which the freaks knocked out or otherwise eliminated their foes.
But what he watched more than anything else was Donatello.
The other three turtles had formed a loose triangle around the purple-banded one, who, between strikes and defensive actions, was focused on yet another gadget he'd pulled from his seemingly bottomless duffle bag. The item itself appeared to have no bearing on the fight, as it neither impacted his agents nor the Godzillas, but it must be important, given the intensity of Donatello's work. And if the other three brothers were defending him to buy him time, then whatever plan they had hatched was likely dependent upon the "smart one" to implement.
"I suppose it would be impolite not to welcome my guest back home," he smirked. Even as he leaped from his place on the catwalk above, he keyed some instructions into the computer interface on his arm. Landing between Donatello and where Leonardo traded blows with one of his better agents, Bishop's smile widened.
"Hi there! Long time no see!" Donatello quipped, stowing the device in his bag even as he turned his full attention to the new threat. Bishop only vaguely noted the confident, almost cheerful air with which he was greeted – whatever the turtles had planned, evidently it was successful so far.
"Thank you for saving me the trouble of coming to find you again," Bishop replied easily. "You've saved the taxpayers quite a bit by returning of your own accord."
"Oh, I'm not here to stay," the turtle returned, settling himself defensively and looking around with just the barest outward expression of discomfort. Bishop almost laughed – his three brothers were handling a new wave of agents and were, therefore, rather occupied.
"We'll see about that." And Bishop attacked.
-==OOO==-
"Hey Nick?" Elsie squatted next to where he was planting some explosives at the base of something big and important-looking.
"Yeah?" he asked more automatically than because he was paying attention.
"How's Godzilla doing? With all this, I mean."
"Um," Nick rocked back to his heels and considered for a moment. The fuzziness that had overtaken him told him that somewhere above Donatello had activated the sonic weapon again, blocking most of his connection to his charge. But there was an echo of it anyway, somewhere even the technology couldn't reach.
"He's worried," he finally answered, meeting Elsie's eyes. "He knows I'm in danger, and he doesn't like it. But he also knows I'm not in so much danger that I need him to come barging in right now."
"Good thing, or we'd be in a lot more trouble," Mendel said from nearby.
"Don's adjustments seem to be working, then?" Randy asked.
"Yeah. There's almost nothing leaking through to us from the clones now, even their pain, although Godzilla's probably shielding me from it again," Nick said. "The sonic disruptor was designed to cut out a certain amount of psychic interference, not shut it down entirely. I think we managed to isolate the precise frequencies that interfere with the connection, so while Don's blocking the clones on most levels, I've still got enough ability to tap into Godzilla that the big guy isn't panicking."
"So do you think this crazy plan will work?" Elsie wanted to know.
"I think it will," Nick gave her a thumbs-up. "It's not perfect, but it should be enough to do what we have to do, and for us to destroy the rest of the clones without destroying ourselves. Assuming…"
"Quiet!" Monique's voice ordered them to silence with such hissed force it arrested their words completely.
From above came some muffled noises, and then a few pieces of machinery sprang to life, whirring and pumping ominously. HEAT collectively froze, holding still and scarcely breathing as they listened. As the moments ticked on, the sense of dread grew, made worse when Bishop's triumphant laughter trickled down to them. But before any of them could really react, another voice sounded, pinning them in place with the power of its pain and anger and terror.
"NOOOO!"
-==OOO==-
Michelangelo felt his knees suddenly freeze and go limp, and it was only the fact that he was face-to-face with an enemy that kept him on his feet. He'd never thought he could feel worse than watching Donatello rage in a container built by Leatherhead and lost to a mutation that eradicated every trace of the brother he knew. He'd never expected he could feel that way again. He choked on a harsh breath after his unexpected bellow.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you do a nice job of emulating human emotions," Bishop almost purred. "But freaks like you have no business with caring, no matter how much you pretend otherwise. I'll tell you what," he smirked, "I'll even make you a deal. Turn around and walk away and I'll leave the rest of your so-called family alone. I've got what I really need now."
"For a mad scientist, you're really stupid!" Mikey found himself shouting. "Don's my brother and I'm not going anywhere when he's in trouble! I'm not gonna lose him to you!" Anger woke him to his senses and he fought the paralyzing shock and loss that had overtaken him.
"Ah, my dear Michelangelo, you've already lost him," Bishop replied airily.
"Mikey!" Raph shouted, barreling into the space at full-speed, Leo at his heels. The pair had been cleaning up the agents and doing what they could to dispatch the motionless clones when an agonizing cry from their youngest brother had brought them running.
Even as they bolted into the next room, both felt the pang of guilt. They couldn't have missed Don taking on Bishop all on his own, nor Bishop methodically herding him through a doorway and out of sight, but there hadn't been time for them to get away. A flash of orange bandana had reassured both that Don was not fighting alone and they'd let themselves forget, for a moment, how dangerous Bishop really could be. But when Mikey cried out like that, they made time in the fight to run. As they'd passed through the lab door, almost as an afterthought, Leo had remembered to strike the door's electronic lock to keep out the remaining Godzillas and goons behind them.
The pair skidded to a halt beside their brother, taking in what had arrested his attention. Between them and the remaining turtle, Bishop stood, arms crossed, face alight with a sickly triumph. And behind him, crouched and shaking was Don.
"What did he do?" Leo demanded.
"He had a dart gun…I didn't see it until it was too late…" Mikey breathed, his voice unsteady.
"I'm impressed, Donatello," Bishop said, not taking his eyes off the other three. "Most species would have succumbed already. Apparently your system is more resilient than I thought. Or is that your innate stubbornness?"
"I'm…starting to feel…a bit…like a wet bar…with all the cocktails…in my system," Don managed to quip. But the effort cost him and he shuddered violently. From his hands and knees he looked up at his brothers, and they could see a sheen of sweat breaking out on his head. "Sorry…"
"What was in it?" Raph raged, barely keeping himself from flying forward to make Bishop pay.
"Oh, nothing much. Mostly it's just a growth accelerant for the clone embedded in your brother's brain. Well, that and one of my control substances. Nothing that should hurt him too much. At least, not yet. But it'll help make him nice and pliant so he will play more obediently with me from now on."
"Enough talk!" Leo decided, the threat of losing his brother yet again, and to Bishop's mind-control, pushing his emotions beyond his stony control. He sped from his place, striking with all his force, and managed to put a serious slice in Bishop's armor for his trouble. Moving smoothly from protective anger to ultimate focus, he engaged the agent, doing his very best to keep the man busy and away from his brothers.
"Donnie!" Mikey dove forward, grasping the pale shoulders and pulling him to his feet. Donatello followed him as though he were sleepwalking.
"Bro, can you hear me?" Raph asked.
"Sure." The fog was so thick in Don's eyes they were almost discolored, but they cleared for a moment and he gripped the supporting arms around him. "I can't fight long…already compromised. Power of suggestion without defenses…"
"Just tell us what to do," Michelangelo pleaded.
"Follow…the plan." He rummaged through the bag that dangled limply from an arm and pulled out a control. "Here. Red for…boom. Green for…noise." To their horror, Don's eyes clouded again, and he seemed to forget what he'd been saying.
"Enough of that, Donatello," snapped Bishop's voice from where he had jumped to avoid a katana and now perched on top of an empty container. "It's time to go to sleep. I've got a place here for you. Come on now," and his words were eerily soothing.
"Don!" Leo whipped around in time to see his brother turn from Raph and Mikey and begin stumbling towards the agent, face slack and empty. "Don't listen to him!"
"That's right, Donatello. Come along," Bishop repeated.
"You leave him alone!" Raphael's moment of cool broke down completely and he became a flame in motion, burning with rage as he threw himself into a fight. He was seeing red for real, now, and even Bishop's sardonic smile infuriated him. He would break that smile and that man or tear himself to pieces.
"Donnie," Mikey said, jumping forward and regaining his hold on his older brother's arm, "Donnie, snap out of it!"
"Bed time, Dontello!" Bishop called in a sing-songing voice from where he traded fierce blows with Raph.
Donatello literally wavered, his body turning him towards Michelangelo, then Bishop, like an egg on a pedestal, tipping in whichever direction swayed him at any given moment. Something in Bishop's words seemed to be taking hold, however, as his eyes began to slide closed and his body started to sink to the floor. He wasn't in the container Bishop had opened for him, but the command to sleep had been heard.
"Donatello!" Leo barked his name like an order. "Wake up right now!" He used his sharpest leader tone, as though he were ordering an attack, and to his gratification, Don's eyes opened a bit and he seemed to respond.
"I don't suppose you could order him to act like he's not drugged!" Mikey suggested, a hint of panic rising in his voice. As Leo strode over to them, Raph gave a bitten-off shout of pain. The eldest of the turtles nodded once to Michelangelo and signaled him to help deal with Bishop, taking the remote Don had entrusted to him with an open hand. Reluctantly setting his nunchuks swinging, Mikey complied, still looking back at the brother who was lost.
"Donatello," Leo said, still in the same strident tone, "I need you to fight this. I need you to come back."
"He can't," Bishop commented, making an attempt to strike Leo that was deflected by the combined efforts of Raph and Mikey. "Between the physical pressure from the implant on his brain and that mix of drugs he won't be thinking straight for a while. All he needs is a little reprogramming and he'll be as docile as my clones, but twice as useful." Then he grinned widely. "Do you think he would be willing to turn his brain to my services? Maybe I can even convince him that I am his father."
A wordless cry of grief erupted from Raph then, seconded by Michelangelo, and both redoubled their efforts to pound the snot out of the agent, who mostly seemed content to taunt them. Leonardo felt his chest tear in half, but he couldn't let himself be lost in rage now. He grabbed Don's arms and stared into the dull eyes intently, as if he could force the drugs out of him by sheer willpower.
"I don't believe it. You're stronger than Bishop, Donnie, stronger than his games. Fight it! Come on!"
Don's head tilted sideways, as if he were studying an interesting problem, but the fog stubbornly clouded his gaze and his face remained slack. Desperation welled up and Leo shook him. "Shell, Don! You've got to do this!"
"I'm telling you," Bishop commented, not even sounding out of breath as he evaded the increasingly-furious attacks of Raph and Mikey, "you'd do better to just walk away. If you leave him here, I won't bother you again. It's a fairer deal than you freaks deserve."
"I'll show you where you can stick your deal!" Raph snarled.
A beeping sound suddenly drew Leonardo's attention and he glanced at the watch partially covered by Don's wrist-bands. The timer. Their plan, everything, depended on them sticking to the time-frame. But "red for boom, green for noise" wasn't enough. They couldn't pull this off without Don's know-how. Leo could trigger things with the remote, but he couldn't adjust to the situation. He needed his genius brother.
"Donatello! You've never defied me in your whole life. Don't you start now!" he ordered curtly. "Snap out of it, Donnie!"
"You're wrong!" Raph appeared at his elbow, breathing heavily. Michelangelo was taunting Bishop now, threatening some important-looking equipment and samples, apparently buying them a moment to themselves.
"What do you mean?"
"He has so defied you. He made friends with those science guys. He's taken risks you told him not to. He doesn't do it like me, but he defies everybody, Leo. We all do. But Don ain't never given up on a fight before and he won't do it this time." Raph pushed the blue-banded turtle aside and gripped Don's shoulders tightly.
"What…?" Leo began.
"Donnie, listen," and Raph's voice was intense but soft. "I know you been through more than your share, but you gotta come through just a little more right now. Leo's right, you are stronger than the drugs. You're stronger than Bishop. Fight it, Don. If anybody can find his way back after all that, it's you, bro. Don't prove me wrong. We're right here, so you gotta come back to us. We gotta do this together."
For a moment, Don seemed to surface, and there was a familiar spark in the expression that met Raph's gaze before it sank into fog again. The beeping watch chirped shrilly, and Leonardo and Raphael exchanged glances. They were nearly late. If they didn't act, and soon, everything they'd planned would fall apart.
"Raph, give me two minutes. Buy it however you can. If I can't reach him, do whatever you've got to do." Leo sheathed his katana and pulled the unresisting Donatello off to one side, pushing him to sit down in a corner where they would be shielded from the fight.
"What are you gonna do, Leo?"
"I'm going to reach him the only way I can think of," and the strength of Leo's conviction forestalled even his angriest brother's objections. "You're in charge of making sure we get out of this one way or another."
"But Leo…"
"I trust you, Raph. Don trusts you. Trust yourself and do whatever you've got to do."
And without a backwards glance, Leo sat right next to Don, closed his eyes, and breathed out deeply. Raphael felt like smacking him, but instead turned back to where Mikey was now playing a risky game of catch with something that Bishop evidently cared enough about to treat delicately.
"All right. Plan's not blown, not yet. I'm gonna have to improvise a little," and he cracked his knuckles to prepare for round two, "but if Leo needs a few minutes, I think I know where to get them."
-==OOO==-
"They're late. We've got to get up there and help!" Elsie said, holding up her beeping watch. The second alarm had already passed and there was no word from Don. That meant something had gone wrong, probably very wrong or he'd at least have signaled them somehow.
"No. We must trust them to handle it and depart at once."
For a moment, four people stared at Monique, blinking. Randy found his voice first.
"Who are you and what have you done with Monique?"
"Do not stare at me. We must go."
"No, seriously," Elsie said, getting somewhat in Monique's face. "Where's the lecture about how we trust no one? About how they are just adolescent mutants and can't be counted on due to inexperience? About how all mutants are bad?"
"Age has nothing to do with competence," she turned away. "If anything, the turtles are more competent than certain members of this team."
"I heard that," Randy scowled.
"We trust the turtles because they have earned it. That is all." Monique looked across to Nick, who had surprisingly said nothing, only to see him grinning like a little boy who has just won a jackpot. "And stop that ridiculous smiling. This is purely logical."
"Oh, sure it is," he replied, winking, only infuriating the Frenchwoman further.
"So we're voting to trust them? Doesn't that mean we leave now?" Mendel wanted to know.
"Yes it does," and Nick was practically rocking back and forth on his feet with glee as he said it. "According to the plan, we're not even supposed to be here, so we better get going. Monique, lead the way."
Disgusted by his reaction, she turned away angrily, muttering in French under her breath and pointedly ignoring the mostly concealed giggles behind her. Really, these scientists were so unprofessional. Here they were, in enemy territory, debating the value of her perfectly reasonable response to solid evidence and a satisfactory strategy, and otherwise behaving like children. For a moment, Monique wished she had accompanied the turtles instead – surely their decorum would be more indicative of the situation at hand. But then she remembered Michelangelo and reconsidered.
"Perhaps I can form a team from the other three turtles and Nick," she thought to herself. "With the absence of certain other more unruly elements, we might be able to accomplish an objective without the commentary."
"Nice to see you've reconsidered, Monique," Nick said as he followed her waved instruction to move around a corner. The laugh was gone from his words, but was alive and well in his face.
"Perhaps not."
-==OOO==-
If there were some kind of ground to kick, Donatello would have kicked it out of sheer spite.
"Really? I finally get my brain back and Bishop has to go and drug me back to the happy Godzilla-shared-brain-land?" He wished he had something to throw. "This is getting ridiculous. The only possible benefit is I'm sure getting better at this whole out-of-body astral-projection thing."
A rumbling sense of agreement suddenly flooded through him, and Don felt the world tip and darken until he felt he was wrapped in stony seaweed. The presence around him was familiar, and as it grew and cradled him, he felt a thrill of fear to recognize it. This wasn't the clones he'd encountered before. This was Godzilla himself. And not just somewhat nearby – Donatello could feel himself being pulled into the mutant's mind completely.
"Um. Hi."
"Friend of parent. Friend of Nick."
"Yeah, I am," Don answered hesitantly. He was surprised Godzilla could speak, but then, given the craziness of his split consciousness, maybe this wasn't too unusual. "Why am I here?"
"Because I am here." The feeling that came with the response was emotional and visual more than verbal, but it was clear nonetheless. Don could sense an echo of the bond between Godzilla and Nick, and the apparent similarity, in Godzilla's opinion, anyway, to how it felt to now hear the turtle.
"You're saying I'm here because the implanted clone is actually bringing me close enough to your consciousness to serve as an actual psychic link?"
A flash of confusion as Godzilla "listened," then agreement once it was apparent the lizard had read his intent more than his words. Don noticed that Godzilla could communicate in words, but they were always inadequate to his complete meaning. Which also made perfect sense – Godzilla didn't have a language per se, but he understood images and feelings well enough.
"Okay. Does this mean I can talk to Nick?"
Denial, and then a fuzzy sort of sound, as if it were far away. Don smacked his forehead. "Of course not. I activated the sonic dampener. It's not hurting you, but it slows the brain function." A pause. Then, "So how am I here at all, then?"
Confusion. Don shrugged. He and Nick had tested to make sure that the frequency of the sonic dampener didn't totally cut off ability to reach Godzilla, though it would slow down the clones, so maybe having a clone hardwired into his own mind somehow made up the difference? It wasn't worth considering, really. Regardless of how, he was here.
"Now, how do I get back?" Don wondered. "Not that being in your head isn't neat, but I've got things to do." For a moment, the turtle felt himself sink even more deeply into Godzilla's mind, for an instant feeling the cool water, tasting the river, waiting near the island for his parent to call for him. Then it was gone.
"I'm glad you're here, anyway," the turtle confessed. "At least there's someone to talk to. But I really need to figure out a way out of here."
And Godzilla, listening intently, seemed to suggest something. It felt like "heal yourself" but with a more profound significance. Don started to dig around, parsing out the sensations, the images, even the sounds and smells that came with the thought. It took several tries, but he eventually settled onto something that seemed to fit.
"You think the G-cells that have been added to my body due to the clone can counteract Bishop's drug. But how long will it take? I can't sit around for hours for that stuff to clear out of my system."
A blast, then, of anger almost flatted the turtle before he could extricate himself from the deeper connection. The anger was not directed at him, but rather at a sense of wrongness. Sharing Godzilla's feelings, he had the urge to bite and claw at whatever was holding him back, making him weak.
"Your emotions trigger your healing's advanced speed!" he realized with a whoop of joy. "If I can get myself back to myself and push hard enough, you're probably right and it'll get eaten up in the adrenaline and the G-cells I've got now."
But that still left the question of how to go about it.
"Godzilla, you're still connected to Nick. Can you pull him in here? Maybe with his help…" He didn't even finish the thought before there was a violent, powerful force from within. Donatello lost what balance he had, feeling like he had been thrown into a washing machine of torrential emotion and power.
"Godzilla!" he cried out in alarm, feeling himself coming apart in the rush.
"Godzilla, stop it. I'm here." Nick's voice was clear and calm, and the connection was so strong Don realized Godzilla must have moved away from the warehouse to achieve it. A moment of looking and he could tell he was right – Godzilla's eyes still saw only underwater, but much deeper water.
"Nick?" he called hopefully.
"Don!" Nick materialized in the dark space effortlessly, obviously diving very deeply into his charge's mind. "How did you get here?"
"Bishop gave me something, made me really susceptible to suggestion. I guess it had a side-effect of pulling me in really deeply with the clone. If my brothers took out a bunch of the other clones, and if my sonic dampener is still turned on, maybe this was the only connection left."
"Interesting." Facing each other in Godzilla's mind, Nick found himself connecting to Don almost the way he did to Godzilla. He allowed himself to really look at the turtle, and to his surprise he found he could sense emotions, memories, even the slight numbness that came of the abuse his body had been put through and was still experiencing.
At the same time, he realized Don had identical access to himself, identical perceptions of his own feelings and thoughts. The turtle's eyes went wide as images flashed around them both, from their childhoods, from recent events, from hopes or dreams or ideas, getting so muddled it was hard to tell which belonged to which scientist.
"Don, I'm sorry," Nick began to retreat, realizing the breach in privacy. But a grasp as powerful as Godzilla's caught him before he could pull away.
"Don't. It doesn't matter. We've got to work together now. We've got to get me out of here before it's too late." Don blanched seeing some of his own secrets, including the inside of the lair, on display for Nick's curious mind, but he didn't back down. "Godzilla alone can't get me back there. I don't think he knows how."
"Neither do I," Nick put in.
"But I do," Don returned. "Look, what I need is a boost of power, I guess. I need you to push me in the right direction with enough fuel to get me there. After that, I think I can handle it."
"Donnie, what you're suggesting is incredibly dangerous. You don't know what you'd be going back to. If you're here, Bishop can't get at your thoughts, either. What if you go back and he's all ready to pump you for information. Or control you directly? You said you were susceptible to suggestion," Nick argued.
"Yeah, but I'm not alone there. My brothers are with me. Bishop won't have gotten me."
"How can you be sure?"
And then there was a burst of something so wordless it could only be understood when their minds were together in Godzilla's. Thousands of images and memories flooded in rapid succession through the space, of turtles rescuing each other, of being there for one another, of sacrificing everything for each other. Feelings of a love and trust and loyalty so fierce and potent it overwhelmed even Godzilla's otherwise non-intrusive place in their odd meeting, sweeping them all up and away. It was a bit like what Nick and Godzilla felt about each other, but profound in other ways, in the ways that come of being bound for years, of being able to communicate through more than emotions, but through the spirit itself. Nick reeled with it as it faded. It was as strong as even the worst rages Godzilla had put him through, but not at all frightening. Not at all.
"Um…sorry," Donatello would have blushed if he'd been physically present.
"Don't be. Ever," Nick returned. "Not for that. Not for your family like that. Never." He took a moment to steady himself, then settled. "Okay. I get it now. We'll give you a push. They'll catch you one way or another. I see it now."
"Thanks," Don breathed.
"Godzilla?" Nick reached out. He sank even more deeply into the mutant brain that was his own bonded kindred spirit until he could just keep himself from being overwhelmed. Godzilla seemed content to let him run things, so he spoke with the rumbling strength of them both. "We're going to push Don out of this bond and back to himself completely."
"Nick?" Don called, readying himself. He felt more than heard Nick's attention swing to him, and it was like that one moment of dizziness back at the lab days before – Nick and Godzilla were one, different sides of one mind. It was strange, but that didn't make it less true. "Be ready for anything," he warned.
Agreement, and trust, echoed.
And like a mountain bending in half, the force that was Godzilla's sheer power with Nick's stubborn control and focus collapsed onto Don's mind and crushed it through a rockslide. He was tossed, turned, forced into a tiny ball and stretched halfway to pieces, all the time rushing along a tightrope of tenuous connection. And then all at once, the force behind him fell away like a booster rocket pushing a spaceship, and Don was flying free.
His path started to wobble and waver, and Don felt the hurricane of the clone's presence springing up around him. He could feel himself slipping, falling back into the control of the implanted being, and he fought it with all his strength. He couldn't let it happen! He couldn't lose control again! His brothers were counting on him!
But the pull of the clone was powerful, and Don was exhausted suddenly, numb and lost. He began to slide from the trajectory he'd had, to fall into the darkness.
"Don, I got you!"
A pair of blue arms suddenly wrapped around him, and Don felt a forceful, familiar pull. He smiled and his energy, his focus, his blazing determination all came back in a rush.
Don opened his eyes to find himself knee-to-knee with Leonardo. His heart was racing with some intense emotions he couldn't quite describe, but his mind was clear and he wasn't shaking anymore. He met his older brother's worried expression with a satisfied grin.
"Thanks, Leo."
"Welcome back, bro."
As one, they stood, Don pleased to find that the physical effects of Bishop's drug were fading rapidly. Score one for Godzilla's G-cells, then. They looked to where Raphael and Michelangelo seemed bent on a campaign to simply break as much stuff as possible in the lab, thoroughly angering the usually implacable agent.
"Ready for the main event?" Leo asked, turning his attention back to his brother. Don quirked a trademark this-is-a-little-crazy-and-should-work-but-it'll-be-close-and-yet-fun smile at him and took back the offered controller with hands that didn't shake.
"Yup. Hey Bishop!" he called. "I know you're a fan of this game, but how about we change the rules!" And he slammed down the red button on the remote.
For a moment, nothing happened except Raph and Mikey, faces alight to see him on his feet, retreated to where Don and Leo waited. Then there was a low rumble from below.
Bishop's face fell as hard as the floor under his feet when the lower levels collapsed in on themselves.