Hanami – Chapter 17
Mikey'd been quite busy in the kitchen. He'd set everything out on the table, serving-board fashion. "Ok, Dudes and dudettes, take a plate and go on round the table." He pulled his apron over his head. "There's just not enough space for all 8 of us to eat in the kitchen, so I figured we could eat in the living room." The girls eyed the spread with open astonishment. There were bacon and biscuits, omelets and toast, bananas and apples, orange juice and milk, coffee and even cold cereal.
"I don't think I've ever seen this much food in one place," Frogger breathed.
+"Ditto."+
"And we're allowed to eat any of it?" Cabbage was clearly in shock.
Mike grinned; he loved it when folks appreciated his cooking. "Yup, as much as you want. Just don't make yourselves sick now. There's always lunch and dinner too."
"You're kidding. You guys always eat this well? No wonder you're all huge!" As soon as the words fell out of Frogger's mouth, she blushed a deep evergreen color. "Sorry." Her apology was drowned out by laughter all around.
Donatello realized he was still carrying her and set her on her feet gently. He smiled up at her, "It's ok, nobody's upset."
"Oh Mikey! You're the BEST!" Cabbage wrapped her arms around Mike's shoulders and planted a quick peck on his cheek. She pulled away to stand in line, grinning like a Cheshire cat with dimples. Donatello could have sworn he saw Mike's knees buckle for a split second, before he hurried after her, trying to recommend the best of the potential breakfast foods.
TwoSee caught up with Frogger. +"You're not mad are you? I mean, you know we worry… That drug is nasty shit. The longer you slept, the harder it'd been to wake you."+
Frogger nodded. "I understand that now that I'm awake. Sorry I was so ugly about it when I first woke up. I couldn't help myself."
+"Forgiven?"+
"Forgiven." The two sisters smiled at each other and picked up some plates. "Of course, that doesn't mean I'll forgive you again if you do it again tomorrow."
+"Of course."+
Seven conscious turtles and one rat sat or lounged around the living room. Splinter had finished his breakfast first and was recounting the turtles' origins. "…The little ones were crawling in a strange glowing ooze…" One by one the girls finished eating, but patiently waited out the end of the tale. "…My sons: Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael."
"Very pleased to meet you."
+"Hello."+
"Hi." Frogger cleared her throat, and glanced at Cabbage who waved her on. "The timeline of our personal history runs parallel to your own. In the late 1970's, TechnoGlobal Research Institute was founded as a private research company. It received several large government contracts shortly there after. At this point in history, there was an impressive build up of weapons of mass destruction within the United States. Everything from nuclear weaponry left over from WWII in the 1940's and the "Red Scare" back in the 1950's to vast amounts of napalm and agent orange from the US foray into Vietnam."
"TGRI was charged with two tasks: find out how well any and all of those chemicals would keep (is Uncle Sam sitting on a powder keg?) and (because it was the Cold War and nobody trusted the USSR) if none of these chemicals were safe to have around, then design something that can be used as a powerful weapon, but could also be stored without fear of contaminating our own shores. A pretty tall order, huh?"
"Now, here's where even I have to admit that it gets vague. I know that TGRI had most of the top Chemical Engineers in the country working on these two assignments. Work proceeded at a feverish pace, because Americans were terrified of falling behind in the Soviet arms race. While I do not know the specifics, I do know that the humans were hoping to make a weapon, much akin to napalm or agent orange: one-coat, spray-on-application death. They came up with mutagen: certain radioactive chemicals that cause mutations. Some mutations are lethal, like cancer. That's a natural mutation where one cell type grows rapidly out of control. Others, like our own, are merely forced adaptations of an organism's entire body."
Don handed her a glass of water. "Thanks."
"TGRI developed a series of mutagenic compounds, and proceeded with animal testing. The ones that killed outright were hailed a success. Their projects were declared complete and their personnel were moved to tackle the other less lethal, but no doubt just as necessary mutagen compounds. It was the loss of a canister of Sample type 56X that triggered panic inside the walls of TGRI. They did not know if a spy had swiped the canister for reverse-engineering purposes. They did not know if it had fallen off the back of a truck, exposing god-knows how many civilians to its effects. It might as well have disappeared." She paused. "Ironic, isn't it?"
"From that point on, testing was focused on Sample type 56X. The humans assumed the worst: that the population at large had been or would be exposed to this horrible chemical. Therefore they tested it on just about anything they could get their hands on, turtles included."