Disclaimer – Yes, it's true. The only turtle I own is my plush sea turtle, sitting placidly on my PC desk. All other forms, mutated or not, belong to someone else.

Thanks to all who have read and reviewed – and my muses were extra generous, so one more chapter after this one! I promise. I would have made Ch. 9 the last, but it would have ended up way too long and – besides – I like how this one leaves off.

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The Temper That Almost Ate Manhattan

by reinbeauchaser

Chapter 9 – Mischief

Master Splinter had thoroughly enjoyed his time with reading his scrolls. They were something April had given to him only the year before on his birthday. They were an artifact she had found while spring-cleaning the basement of her second hand store. The storage room often yielded surprises of Asian influence like that and when April would find them, she would bestow the 'treasures' as gifts to the aged ninja master.

And, it always brought a smile to his face – like now.

As far as birthdays were concerned, though, no one in the clan really knew when their real one was, so they had all picked a month and a day that they liked best.

For Splinter, it was July 4th. It represented freedom and the country in which his master had tried to find shelter. Although hiding from Saki in the United States ultimately failed Yoshi, Splinter still felt affection for the holiday. Most especially because of the fireworks and, even more importantly, for the warm summer days the month brought with it.

After he read a bit, Splinter carefully rolled up the scrolls and returned them to their protective cylinders, then stood them along the back of his desk like obedient soldiers. Next, he retrieved his journal and eagerly launched into his writing. After an hour or so of recording his time with Raphael and jotting down a few extra thoughts, the master stood up and walked over to his bed to put the diary back under his mattress.

That was when he noticed something.

The lair outside his room seemed –unusually quiet.

"Hmm…" he said to himself curiously.

He then stood in the middle of his room, looking over at his bedroom door. He cocked his ears just a bit.

Again, he heard nothing.

He sighed and realized a cup of tea sounded good right about then. For some odd reason, reading and then chronicling his thoughts always made him thirsty - and a cup of tea seemed to satisfy it. Besides, when the lair was this quiet, it usually meant something had happened – and it was not always good. Despite the fact that his sons were in their late teens meant nothing as far as mischief was concerned. Therefore, any amount of sustained silence caused the rat to feel more than…uneasy.

With his walking cane in hand, Master Splinter made his way out of his bedroom and stepped into the hallway. He was about to turn towards the living area, and beyond that the kitchen, when he heard whisperings coming from the other end of the hall.

It was low, soft, and obviously from one of his four sons, and it was more obvious that whoever it was, they didn't want anyone outside the room to hear them. Splinter focused a bit more and soon recognized Leonardo's voice. However, he also sensed a certain amount of distress in his son's tone, causing the master a bit of worry.

As Splinter listened more, he realized that Leonardo's voice was coming from…Donatello's room.

"How strange," the rat mused, "Usually Leonardo meditates before lunch. I wonder if…"

Then, another voice seemed to answer or add to Leonardo's. Raphael's familiar gravely inflections came easily to Splinter's ears.

"Hmm…equally odd," the rat muttered, "Raphael prefers to listen to his rock music after morning katas. Ah, but, yes, I remember, now, after practice hearing him ask Donatello about using his computer."

The rat smiled a little, wondering if maybe his more temperamental son had learned something positive from his talk with him. Maybe Raphael was trying to find a more productive way of expressing himself and was now sharing that discovery with his brothers.

However, it had been over three hours since morning practice ended and Splinter knew that Raphael was never that studious.

Splinter recalled that when his sons were younger, they often spent a good deal of time together. However, since they had become teenagers, they had drifted apart to their own specialized interests.

Now, to hear them together again and in one room had piqued the master's curiosity.

Determined to find out what exactly was going on, Splinter quietly walked down the hallway. He held his cane rather than used it, going ninja stealth. Soon, he stopped before Don's bedroom door. When he heard Michelangelo talking, the rat became even more inquisitive.

Even more so, when Mike said, his voice as whisper soft as the other two, "No matter what I said earlier, it's…still disgusting to think about!"

The gentle rap on the bedroom door silenced everyone in Donatello's room. Don sat in his chair, with Raphael in the one by the computer, while Leo and Mike rested comfortably on Don's bed. Now, four pair of eyes riveted squarely on the wooden barrier.

An all too-familiar voice, deep and fatherly, called out, "My sons, are…you all right?"

Mike's eyes widened and Leo's breathing hitched once. Don sat where he was, quiet and reflective, but no more interested in answering than his other two brothers were. How long their father had stood there, possibly even listening to them, they wouldn't even know about it – until it was too late.

Finally, Raphael did the honors. He huffed once and then stood up to swagger over to the door. When he opened it, he asked in his usual brisk manner, "Yeah, Sensei?" and then, when he noticed his father's penetrating and curious eyes, Raph's voice became unusually soft, "Um, can I help you…with… somethin'?"

Splinter's whiskers twitched, as did his nose. He smelled – apprehension – and it worried him. Finally, he found his voice, "No, but I was wondering why all of you were so quiet."

Raph looked back at his brothers and then to his father again, "Jus'…visit'n s'all. You know, doing brotherly…bonding, ah…talk." He gulped, realizing how lame his excuse sounded and the soft groans from his brothers behind him confirmed it, too.

Smiling to dispel whatever they seemed concerned about, though, Splinter remarked, "Well, I was about to make myself a cup of tea, but I believe it is closer to lunch time. Whose turn is it to make lunch?"

Mike almost sprang like a bunny from Don's bed, "Oh, it's MY turn. I'll go right away, Sensei! Don't want you – ah – US to get too hungry," he chuckled, bustling through the door and forcing Splinter to step aside. The turtle continued to carry on as he hurried down the hallway towards the main part of the lair, "Not when we have soooo much food in the pantry, yeah, I'm glad we have April to make sure we never run out of food, can't imagine not having enough food, know what I mean…." He continued chattering away, his voice trailing off as he disappeared from view.

Splinter watched him go, one eyebrow raised reflectively. He 'hmmed' a bit and then turned his attention to his other sons. "What is wrong with Michelangelo; he seems…nervous for some reason."

Leo looked to Raph, who looked to Don, who then looked back to Leonardo, who finally looked up at Master Splinter to explain, "Raph was…cruising the Internet and…um…found something that kind of…upset Mike, but he's fine, now, it was only some silly…hoax, an urban legend of sorts." He smiled big, then, but abruptly changed the topic with his next comment, "Well, I probably ought to get cleaning…um…the weapons, so if you don't mind, Sensei," and Leo quickly stood up from the bed and left the room, forcing the rat to step aside once more in order to allow another of his sons to leave.

Splinter watched him go, and in the same way as Mikey had. But Leonardo headed for the opposite end of the hallway, where the dojo was. The rat cocked his other eyebrow and wondered a bit. He then turned to Raphael and asked, "I assume this website also bothered…Leonardo?"

Shrugging and scratching nervously at his arm, Raph replied, "No…more than usual, Sensei, but – ah – I need to go do something in my room, too; can't use up all of Don's 'puter time, know what I mean?"

And, as his other two brothers had done, Raphael couldn't get into the hallway, or to his room, fast enough.

This time, Splinter was more than curious; he was a mite concerned.

Don remained alone in his room, now, without a viable place to go to and with his father now blocking the doorway.

Worse still, because Don was the only one left, the rat seemed to focus on him a little bit more.

Donnie looked over at the computer and saw his screen saver up and running. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Then, he worried. He couldn't remember if Raphael had dropped the web page down or if he had closed it out entirely.

He hoped for the latter, of course.

In either event, he realized he was all alone with his sensei – and with remembering what Raphael had shared earlier. Before he could say anything, though, he heard his father ask, "So, it seems as if your brothers are very busy. Was there something you needed to be doing, my son?"

"What?" Don replied - startled, his father's question ripping his attention away from the computer, "Oh, ah, I was just fixing this carburetor here for the cycle," he said quickly as he picked up the carburetor, "never know when we might need an extra one and it seemed like it was in good enough shape when I found it in the junk yard, only I discovered it wasn't working as well as it needed to be, so I've been trying to get it to work better and was doing just that when we all kind of got together to do some – ah – brotherly…bonding…talk…" Don's voice trailed off as he groaned inwardly. "Why is it I run my sentences together whenever I'm nervous?" he sighed to himself.

"Anyway," he declared as he put the carburetor down and stretched hugely, and then stood, "I need to get out of my room for a while, anyway, maybe do some laps in the sewers. Yeah, that's a good idea…pique my appetite for lunch!" He thought briefly about the website, but dismissed it, confident that Raphael had indeed closed it out. Don also knew his father had very little interest in technology, especially where it concerned the computer. In fact, Donnie had even tried to interest Splinter in setting up an E-mail account some time ago, but the aged rat had chuckled and dismissed the offer, saying that using the phone was complicated enough for him.

Don eyed his exit and took his leave, just as quickly as his three brothers had done. The next thing Splinter knew, Donatello was heading for the entrance to the sewers.

Now, the rat found himself standing alone in his son's room and wondering what had upset them.

The rat furrowed both brows and 'hmmed' some more. He looked back towards Donatello's workbench and then…to the computer. He noticed the screen saver was still operating, the colorful bands undulating and pulsating across the monitor in a dance of vibrant hues. He took a few steps inside the room towards the computer and tried to remember what Donatello once said regarding it.

"Something about moving the mouse…," he recalled his son saying,"…and then whatever work one had been doing will… reappear?"

Curious, Splinter walked over to Don's computer and…moved the mouse.

…………….

Back in the kitchen, Mike whistled a little tune as he prepared lunch. He was busy making sandwiches, his back to the kitchen door, and so he didn't notice his father walking into the room. The sound of someone's throat clearing, though, brought the turtle up short and Michelangelo turned sharply around, obviously surprised.

"Oh, hi, Master Splinter!" Mike forced a smile, and then seemed to go into hyper drive, "I'm – er - not quite done yet, still have a few more things to do, but soon as I can get everything ready, I'll let ya know and then we can all eat, I'm pretty hungry m'self, ya know, can eat a horse, really, but – ah – we're not having - horse, we're…" he looked at the breadboard where was working, his speedy discourse slowing just a bit, "…having…sandwiches, with chips and soda if ya want, I would have sushi for you, but…"

"Enough, my son, please calm down." Splinter implored with a raised paw, "I am a patient rat; I don't mind waiting. I was just wondering what you were fixing was all."

"Um sure, no problemo," Mike feigned another smile, then a thought occurred to him, his eyes going wide with enthusiasm, "Wanna head start? You can have your sandwich first, ya know, after all, you're head of the family, our lovvvving father, the guy who raised us, uno numero ninja and all that."

Michelangelo grinned wider, almost too wide, and it only caused Splinter to sigh in exasperation. He then shook his head, "No, my son, I will wait in my quarters. Call me when lunch is ready." The rat then turned around, his walking cane tapping against the concrete floor, as he made his way back to his room.

By the time Don returned from his jog, Mike had their midday meal all ready to go. Don went to alert Leo and Raphael, and as the three of them were coming back down the hallway, Splinter came out of his room. "Is lunch ready, my sons?"

Three pair of slightly wide eyes stared at their father for a second, and then Don nodded, "Yeah, lots of food, too, from what Mikey said," and then he smiled - big.

Splinter narrowed his expression a little bit. His sons had been 'smiling' way too much this day and he had all he could do to keep from rolling his own eyes with Don's grin. Instead, he nodded, "Then, by all means, we must take advantage of such generous portions!" With a quarter turn, the rat then led the way towards the main part of the lair.

Lunch was, like breakfast, a quiet affair, but not because anyone was tired.

More to the point, they were all on edge, everyone, that is, except the rat.

And the rat was fully aware of why his sons were nervous, too.

However, he decided to let the matter rest, hoping that one of them – especially Raphael – would confess to their little web-surfing discovery.

After everyone finished lunch, the four turtles went their separate ways, mainly to their own rooms. However, before they left, Splinter, announced that he would be going topside to visit with 'Miss Oneal'. He also informed Michelangelo that he would not need to make dinner.

"I will do the honors this evening, my son. I have something…special…in mind, something that I just know you and your brothers will appreciate!" the rat said, a slight smile creasing his muzzle. Then, the rat slipped into the elevator and was gone.

Michelangelo didn't miss the expression on his father's face and, considering all he and his brothers had talked about before lunch, didn't miss the feeling of dread in his stomach, either.

After Splinter left the lair, Mike quickly headed for Donnie's room.

"Bro, Master Splinter just said he was to going to make dinner tonight!" Mike declared worriedly as he rushed in and closed the bedroom door behind him.

Don turned from his desk to face his brother, asking, "So?"

"He had – that smile on his face!"

"Smile?" Don queried and then, "Oh, THAT smile!"

"Yeah, he's up to somethin', Donnie, I just know it. Like that time he was going to show us a special film about the 'birds and the bees'!" Mike groaned, "It's when he found Raph's stash of forbidden magazines! I honestly thought that Splinter was going to make us watch one of those x-rated films…and I think Raph was disappointed when it was…"

"Yeah, about birds and bees," Donnie chuckled, "And your right, Raph was pretty disappointed it was only a National Geographic DVD."

"I just know Splinter is up to something, Don. What if…" Mike became deadly serious, "what if talking with Raph this morning got Dad thinking about…turtles?" He nearly swooned, sitting down weakly on Don's bed. He then whined, "I mean, how do we know he hadn't eaten anything like that before finding us? Sometimes I think about pizzas I've had in the past and then…my mouth starts to water, I start to get hungry, and the only thing, the ONLY thing I want…is THAT pizza!"

Don shook his head, "I don't think Splinter will fix anything having to do with turtles, Mike. For one thing, it's illegal, and for another, it was green sea turtles and not the pet shop variety."

"Still, Raph said that Splinter almost ate us – back when we were babies," Michelangelo cried.

"Wasn't it YOU, Mike, who kept saying a while ago that we have to keep thinking, remembering what did happen?" Don sighed, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Yeah, but my imagination's not convinced!"

"Well," Don turned back to his carburetor, "just try and do something other than thinking about what you don't know. Splinter's a good cook, so whatever he fixes, we'll be able to eat it."

"If there's anything 'green' in whatever he fixes, I'm - not – eating it!"

"You don't eat anything that's green anyway, Mike," Don smiled.

"Exactly!" Mike huffed and then noticed Don's computer. The screen saver was still operating, so he asked, "Hey, did Raph close out that web site?"

Don turned in his chair again to face his brother, "I – think so. I took a run before lunch, after you and the others left. But…I really don't know."

Mike walked over to the computer and moved the mouse. When he did, he stood there for a moment and stared at the screen, almost in shock. Then, "Hey, Donnie, wasn't this website on – rats?"

Don had gone back to his workbench, so he wasn't paying much attention to Mike, "Yeah, I haven't bothered with it, yet. Is it still up?" he asked and then swiveled around to look at his brother.

"Well…" Mike nearly paled, "if it was, it's not on rats anymore, bro…" Mike eased down into the computer chair, slowly leaning into the monitor screen as if mesmerized, "You're not going t'believe this, but…" he began to say weakly.

Don, sensing his brother's distress, quickly moved out of his chair and walked over to where Michelangelo sat, "What is…that?" he asked as he noted the change of topic on the web page.

"It's – a recipe, bro…" Mike swallowed nervously, "And…it says here," his voice went up an octave, "that – ah – 'turtles' taste just like…chicken!"

Donnie just stared at the screen along with Mikey, not sure what scared him more. The fact that his father had used the computer - or the fact that Splinter had actually managed to find such a recipe in the first place.

However, Mike could only cry, "We're sooo dead!"

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A/N - Goodness, is Splinter going to chop the guys into little bits? Is he going to make turtle tartar for dinner? Well, when chapter ten gets posted, guess we'll all find out, eh? Bwahahaha