Warnings: Swearing, turtle bashing and revenge, sweet revenge. You have been warned.
"Do you know what the weirdest part of this is?"
Don stopped and turned to look at his brother, who was tying the blue bandana back on its place. The purple-clad turtle was planning to avoid Raph and Mikey for a couple days, so having Leonardo by his side would be the best course of action. Now, if he just kept the mouth closed and allowed him some time to think …
"That we have never noticed before."
Needless to say, Leo sometimes believed that being the leader gave him some rights, like making unwanted questions and answering them himself. Oh, and the detail that he tended to be correct? Peachy. Leonardo's eyes shined in realization. Great, just great, Donatello thought. He was supposed to be the family genius. Why couldn't he live up to his fame today?
Leonardo paid close attention to his brother's gloomy facial features. It was obvious Donatello was more than a little pissed off about being unable to understand this whole bandana thing. Yes, talking to him on these circumstances was not the best idea, but Don obviously needed some help to start solving the mystery; like, let say, two words.
"Master Splinter."
Donnie rolled the eyes. Okay, that was expected.
"Leo, Master Splinter might be wise, but he is not all-knowing, as I hope you realize," Donnie told his brother, starting to walk again. After all, with a lot of time to kill he could use it wisely, not staying in one spot popping Leonardo's heroship bubble towards their Sensei.
"Well, who gave us our bandanas?" Leonardo replied with the smallest smirk.
And that got Donatello's attention. Of course! Why haven't he noticed before? What the shell was wrong with him? But then, another idea just materialized on his mind.
"And the old ones too, right? Our pupils were visible with them."
By then he had already turned and was about to run back to the Lair.
"Hold on, Don. Master Splinter is not at home, remember?"
It was like watching a balloon deflate. Truth to be told, Leonardo was as desperate to interrogate their Sensei as Donnie was, but he was not letting it show. Sometimes really sucked to be the collected ones, and Donatello seemed to wholeheartedly agree with it; he looked as if a string of curses were to be promptly delivered. Sure enough, no bad word was uttered, and Leonardo proudly smiled … internally, of course.
"He will be back in an hour. Maybe there's something we can do while waiting for him?" he proposed.
Don used the next moments to think about this, before indicating agreement and starting a light jog toward the Lair. He understood what Leonardo was proposing, to start their own query in case Master Splinter couldn't or wouldn't answer their questions. Indeed, there were a couple places they could look at, thanks Mikey.
"You paid attention to Mikey's ramblings?"
Leonardo, jogging by his side, lifted an eye ridge while answering.
"Sort of. Why?"
"The superheroes part, do you remember which ones he named?"
The elder turtle nodded. The four of them shared an especial bond, and right now he felt his connection with Donatello was stronger than usual. It was as if they knew what the other was thinking; he understood what Donnie was looking for.
"Batman, Robin I can clearly recall. Flash. Maybe Green Lantern, too. I guess that's all, but it seems to me he implied there were more. Do you believe we should check his comic books?"
Don smiled, feeling the proverbial wheels turn on his brain. He could get to the bottom of this, he knew he could.
"No. He has been reading them for years, and if there were an answer he would already know it. I found hard to believe he might not have noticed some clue."
"But?"
"But, there are other sources, ones Mikey have never used. A collection of rumors, speculation and true facts; and they can be found in one place, the place of anarchy."
"The Internet?"
"The Internet."
They slowed their pace, if only a little, as their home entrance was getting close. Yes, there was a compulsion to have their doubts answered; however, the fact that Raphael might be mad at them was too much to just be put aside. Eventually they stopped, paying attention to any sound that could be heard.
Raphael was pretty much used to Michelangelo's incoherent babble; in fact, from time in time he could even understand his baby brother's chat. Anyway, today was not such a day, and the main reason was simple enough: Mikey speech was gibberish. Even the talkative turtle knew it, as he appeared to take special pleasure while linking one unrelated word to the next.
"You shut up by yourself, or need my help?" Raph grunted, still leaning on the kitchen doorway.
"Hey, I just was waiting for them to be far enough," was Michelangelo response, in the first rational sentence he structured in about ten minutes. As if following a script, he screamed, Raphael growled and a cup found its demise on the floor. They spent some precious moments picking up the pieces before Raphael gave his approval.
In less than a second Michelangelo had sprinted past Raphael, jumped over the coach and claimed the remote control. His red-clad brother just shook the head while moving, on a slower pace, to take a sit by his side. A smug smile appeared on Raph face while their multiple monitors showed the "Lost" program introduction; episode five was just about to start.
"Piece of cake, huh?" Mikey said, and yes, there was an equally smug smile on his face, too.
"They just made it too easy," he agreed and arranged himself comfortably.
In fact, they only were expecting to watch two or three hours from the "Lost" marathon, as Leonardo and Donatello would probably not spend the whole evening on the sewers. Nonetheless, their primary goal was to finally witness an elusive episode, the one they have managed to miss every time it was aired.
At the second commercial pause, Mikey ran to the kitchen to prepare some microwave popcorns. He returned with the bowl and a couple sodas, handing one to Raphael although not letting it go until the other turtle looked at him.
"Don't you feel a little guilty?" he asked with a grin that showed no remorse at all.
"What, are you expecting me to grow a new conscience?" Raphael grunted, taking the snacks from his brother's lap. "After all, you were the one who played the entire act."
"Well, you staged it."
"What, did I put my sai on your neck and made you do it? Mikey, you were whining because they didn't let you watch your program."
"And whose fault was that? You could have voted but no, you had to be the tough turtle and let them outnumber me and win the telly! Just because your macho image would be damaged by accepting you are addicted to a TV show."
"I am not addicted!" Raphael grabbed the control and turned the monitors off, just to prove his point. "I'm just here to watch the fucking episode seven, that's all! And stop whining, you were not even paying attention."
"Yes I was!" Michelangelo complained, turning the TV on after snatching the control back.
There was another commercial. They waited in silence.
"How do you explain it?"
Raphael sighted and closed his eyes tightly. There was no way out; even if he swore to remain silent, his younger brother always ended involving him in one of his inane chats. He might as well give up.
"How do I explain what?"
"The white eyes thing." Oh, that.
Raphael opened his eyes just to find the orange-clad turtle intensely looking at him.
"Mikey, you promised …" he started, while pointing at his brother.
"But I really, really wanna know …"
"… that you were not to annoy me about this …" the now more than a little mad turtle continued, doing his best to ignore the complaining.
"… and Donnie will never, ever explain it to me …"
Okay, so maybe he could not really ignore that one.
"Hey, I heard Donatello's excuse. Believe me; he had not a clue about this. He is as lost as you are."
"But he might already have an explanation!"
"Sure, the sewers are such a source of inspiration," was added with sarcasm. Episode five just ended, and they had paid to it no attention at all.
"Of course not! But the effects should be diminishing by now, and his mind might be clearer." The last was received with a surprised face from Raphael.
"Effects? Mikey, what the shell are you talking about?"
"I, uh, used my secret weapon?" was voiced more as a question, when it really was meant to be a statement. But then, having your heavier, angrier brother pinning you down with a murdering gaze didn't help much in the confidence department.
"Spit it already! What secret weapon? You … you didn't drug him, did you?"
"It … er … depends on what you understand as, uh, drugged."
"Michelangelo!"
"Okay, okay! I stuffed him!"
"You did what? Michelangelo, if this doesn't start making sense right now? Well, I just want you to remember that we are alone."
The younger turtle audibly gulped, and breathed deeply in preparation.
"I cooked his favorite meal, and made sure he had double servings, alright? You-you surely remember he gets groggy after that? And his mind gets, well, fuzzy?"
Raphael just looked at him, prior to rapping Mikey skull with his knuckles.
"You ditz," he told, in an almost affectionate fashion.
Back in the sewers, Leonardo was dragging a fighting turtle away from the Lair. Once they were far enough he removed his hand from Donatello's mouth but didn't let him go. They were going to have some scraps and bruises later, but that was their least important problem.
"That fucking little bastard!"
Yeah, so much for being proud of his brother self control. Still, he could understand Don's reaction, as Michelangelo manipulation was … well … way past the line. And Raphael was the brain behind this whole farce? Those two were really, really gonna pay.