"Raph? …Donnie?"

Seeing only a dark sky above him, Michelangelo awoke in a confused daze. He vaguely remembered wanting to ensure Raphael's safety, but couldn't remember from what or what had happened. Turning his head, Michelangelo saw that he was lying on the grass in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. Looking towards the other side, he saw Donatello and Leonardo engaged in a heated conversation.

When Michelangelo managed to roll onto his side and get himself to his knees, his brothers ceased their worried discourse and looked at him. "Hey," Donatello said, walking slowly over to him. "You okay?"

Michelangelo groaned as Donatello took hold of his arm and helped him to his feet. "I feel like I just got punched in the stomach by the not-so-Jolly Green Giant," he responded. "Oh, man." Slowly, scenes from the night came back to him. Allison was in trouble. Raphael had been captured. Bishop was involved. He groaned again. "I wanna go back to Dream Land now."

"We would've left you back at Allison's," Leonardo told him as the three of them regrouped, "but her car resembles a piece of Swiss cheese." Donatello nodded in agreement, adding rather forlornly, "Yeah. That, and we don't even know how to get back."

"Great, guys," Michelangelo muttered sarcastically. "Just great. We were all whiny about the heat wave and the constant butt kicking we had to do, so we come here and get ourselves kidnapped, shot at, and hopelessly lost. Whose bright idea was it to come to California, anyway?"

In unison, Leonardo and Donatello replied, "Yours."

Having realized this as soon as the words had left his mouth, Michelangelo shrugged, causing him to wince. "And you all listened to me," he said accusingly. "What a bunch of geniuses."

"Well, there is good news to this situation," Donatello admitted, removing his shell cell from his belt. "I managed to put a turtle tracer on one of Bishop's goons before all heck broke loose, and according to the blip I'm getting on my screen, the explosion didn't damage it."

"Sweet!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "So we know where they're headed! Let's get going." Leonardo stopped him before he could get too excited. "That's the bad news. We have no transportation, remember? Allison's car is shot, literally, and one of our shell cycle is back at her place, while the other one is at the labs. It took us twenty minutes to get here by car and we crossed some major freeways, so even if we knew where we were going, it would take a miracle for us not to be seen."

Taking all of this in, Michelangelo remarked, "Bro, I wouldn't wanna go against the fearless leader, but… this is Raph. Our brother. Raph and Bishop. Our bro and one of our worst enemies. And this is California. Weird people always walk up and down the street, anyway."

As Leonardo was about to argue, Donatello spoke up. "You know, it's not every day that I say this, but Mikey's got a point. Every second we waste might just be the difference between life and death for Raph, and maybe even for Allison. We can never tell with Bishop. I'm gonna go sprint over to Allison's car and see if I can't save it, at least until we can find our way back to her place and get the shell cycle."

Before Leonardo could make a case, Donatello and Michelangelo were headed back towards the car.

------------------------

Meanwhile, many miles away, Allison was also making her way towards consciousness.

She groaned deep in her throat and tried to move, only to realize that she was tied down. Opening her eyes and squinting in the brightness of the room, Allison looked down and saw that she was on some sort of table that was tilted at a forty-five degree angle, her wrists, waist, and legs strapped down. Knowing that she wasn't currently strong enough to pull herself free, Allison decided to save her strength and tried to observe her surroundings.

She soon realized that the room was actually relatively dim, but a harsh white light was beamed directly at her eyes. It gave her a headache, but she nevertheless continued to squint about. She could make out what looked like another table some feet directly across from her, skewed in the same fashion. It didn't take long for Allison to distinguish Raphael's green skin as he lay limply on his table.

"Raphael," she whispered, gently. Were the others there as well? She peered about, but saw no one else. Why only him? What was Bishop's interest in him? And why was she taken, as well? Donatello had only told her that they had encountered Agent Bishop and to be careful of him. She had recognized the name as being associated with the outbreak virus, and this terrified her. Was she to be used in some kind of experiment? And Raphael… was she somehow responsible for what happened to him or what will happen? "Raphael," she said more urgently. "Raphael, wake up. Please, wake up."

There was no reaction for some time, making Allison flustered. Just as she thought the worst, she thought she saw his head move. "Raphael," she called again. "Raphael, it's Allison. Please, if you can hear me, lift your head. Please." She could feel hot tears dampen the fur beneath her eyes as her panic mounted.

Finally, Raphael softly mumbled, "Quit worryin'; I'm alive." Despite the brusqueness of his words, Allison did indeed calm down. He was alive and capable of speech. Somehow, that made their predicament seem a little less dire. That is, until she heard a voice speak over an unseen loudspeaker.

"Agent Bishop, the mutants are awake. Continue as planned."

Raphael lifted his head up at the sound of the voice. With the bright light shining upon Allison, he could see her look about the room, but probably to no avail. Looking her over, he saw that the jacket that she had been wearing was gone, as she was probably carrying more weapons within the pockets. With a small smirk, Raphael thought, Heh. You can take the girl outta New York, but you can't take the New York outta the girl.

He heard a swish from behind him, and gathered that this was one of Bishop's fancy mechanized doors sliding open. Steady, purposeful footfalls could be heard approaching him, and he saw Allison crane her neck and try to catch a glimpse at the new arrivals. Raphael could distinguish two sets of footsteps; judging by the metallic sound of one, he judged that he would get to see an old friend.

"Well, look here. If it isn't the arrogant one." Raphael narrowed his eyes at the robotic remains of Dr. Baxter Stockman as it stepped into view. "How very fortuitous. I always hoped that if I could only destroy one of you freaks, it would be the muscle-bound idiot."

"Arrogant and freaks," Raphael repeated as Bishop walked past him and continued on towards Allison. "Ever heard the sayin' about people with glass houses, buckethead?"

Allison eyed the man approaching her warily. Seeing him up close, she could see that there was an odd kind of sophisticated wickedness emanating from him. She recalled hearing him being referred to as a snake, and that was exactly the word she would use for him as he seemed to slither towards her. As she noted his walk, she realized what it was that she found so odd about him from the moment he came in; though she clearly remembered slamming her blade down straight through his foot, he walked with no limp.

"Interesting," the man remarked after studying her face for a moment. "Though the tests we ran show that you have all of the signs of other victims of the outbreak, you seem capable of thought and reason. How long ago were you initially infected?"

Allison stared at him coldly before moving her eyes to look up at Raphael. She saw that he was observing the exchange between the two of them, suspicious of everything Bishop said and did. "You would be better off answering my questions, Miss Grayson," Bishop told her as she responded with only another indignant look. "From what I know, you're only an innocent human being, in which case you should not fear me unless you prove to stand in the way of the completion of my goals. My questions are for my own scientific records only, and are necessary to be sure that this does not happen to anyone else. So, Miss Grayson, tell me, how long ago were you infected?"

Allison swallowed with difficulty. She didn't have much of choice in the matter, and the question seemed innocent enough. If he asked something that she would prefer not to answer…. "About ten months ago. More or less."

"Capable of coherent speech, as well," Bishop noticed with what seem like a touch of satisfaction. "Very good. How did you contract it?" It was here that Allison paused again, but did not look back up to Raphael, lest Bishop read something into it. Her best friend Robert had, apparently, come in contact with an infected creature, and he was the one who had in turn given her the virus. If she brought Robert up, would Bishop demand to see him, as well? She couldn't do that. She couldn't risk destroying Robert and his family, especially since he was given such a higher dosage of the cure and didn't even remember his transformation.

"There was an animal in the sewers," Allison answered, hoping to eliminate Robert as the middleman and take on his side of the story. "I was running away from something and ran into a creature that looked like a giant cockroach. It cut my side and I changed in less than an hour."

"Was this creature destroyed?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Trust me. The creature no longer exists."

Bishop paused for a moment, considering her answer. Allison was thankful that her fur-covered face prevented many of her facial features from showing, for she gathered that Bishop would not think twice about making her pay for lying to him about the involvement of another person. Finally, he seemed to satisfy himself with this answer and asked, "Do you remember what happened to you once you were infected?"

Allison replied that she did not, but Bishop pressed on. "Pain," she relented. "Lots of pain. I could feel my flesh reshaping itself and it felt like my mind was drowning. There was one moment of clarity, a split-second… but it was gone as fast as it came."

"You were an animal," Bishop offered, his voice low. "A mindless, soulless animal. No different from him." Though Bishop did not motion towards Raphael, it was plain that the reference was made to him.

Allison lunged forward in anger, her restraints biting into her skin. "Does he look mindless to you? Does he? You're the one without a soul, the one who created this virus in the first place!" Here, Bishop interrupted her. "Actually, the credit for the outbreak virus belongs to Dr. Stockman here."

"Yes," the robot said, stepping up besides Bishop. "My apologies if the virus has reduced your chances of obtaining any kind of social life, but given the riffraff you associate with now, I doubt that your Friday nights have changed much." Allison blinked at the thing referred to as Dr. Stockman. "This? You pal around with a robot who looks like the twin brother of the can opener from Short Circuit?"

"For your information," Stockman answered huffily, "I was once quite a dashing sight to see, until your group of meddlesome reptiles fouled up my entire life." Stockman had raised his voice and approached Allison, but Bishop raised a hand to stop him.

"Let us for once stay on topic, shall we?" Bishop requested, turning back to Allison. Raphael murmured something about Stockman under his breath, but Bishop ignored him as he continued his interrogation. "Now then, recently, what sorts of symptoms have you been experiencing?"

Allison repressed a growl from the back of her throat, but still went on to give him the same explanation she had given the turtles, about the cramps and hair growth. As Bishop continued to question her, she felt as though she was visiting a doctor's office. Her answers came mechanically, though her mind was really focused on Raphael. Other than the brief mutters before, he had not said much. This was uncharacteristic for him, and Allison hoped that he hadn't been seriously injured or drugged. Given the fact that Bishop claimed to want to help her and yet even she was tied up, she was loath to think of what might have been done to Raphael.

"I see," Bishop said after about five minutes of questioning. "I think this should prove to be simple enough. Stockman, prepare two samples of the cure and bring them in." As the android went off, Allison blinked up at Bishop. "Two? Why two?" Bishop only smiled grimly and turned away, ignoring her further questions. Thoroughly baffled, Allison pondered over why a double dosage was needed.

Suddenly, Bishop stopped. "One final question, Miss Grayson." He turned to look at her over his shoulder and asked, "What were you running away from?" Confused, Allison asked him to elucidate. Bishop turned to face her once more and sternly asked, "You claimed to have been running away from something in the sewers when you were infected. What was chasing you?"

It was clear to Allison that Bishop was trying to catch her in a lie by going over a mundane detail in her story. Luckily, she didn't have to lie, as she knew what Robert had been running from. "A monster. We called him the Rat King." Bishop raised an eyebrow and asked her for more information about this "Rat King." Not liking the interested look on his face, she replied, "He looked like a normal man, but he was impossibly fast and covered in bandages. He looked like a mummy who hung around with giant rats."

Bishop remained quiet for a long time, seeming to fall deep into thought. Allison wondered if there was some sort of correlation between Bishop's work and this Rat King. Could the Rat King have been a victim of an early stage of the virus, which affected his mind and his relationship to the rats? Allison couldn't be sure, and the sudden wide grin from Bishop made her wonder if she ever wanted to know.

Bishop laughed, loud and long. Having never even seen him smile, this laughter struck Allison as unexpected and unwelcome. When he finally quieted down, he walked closer to the perturbed rat, who gazed at him warily. "Tell me," he said lowly, leaning in towards her and placing a hand on either side of Allison's head. "What happened to this 'Rat King'?"

Fearing that there was some relation between the two monsters and that she may have just been caught in a lie, Allison stuttered, "H-he died. L-leo-… One of the turtles killed him before he could send their master to kill me." Bishop released a half-smile that almost made him look boyish. "In Central Park, I assume?"

Allison was aghast. How did he know? Was he… did they…? "Yes," she answered, not bothering to hide it. If she was found out, then she was found out. He chuckled, leaving Allison to stare at his face with nothing to say. The more she stared, the more she felt as though she had met him before. There was something oddly familiar about him, but she hadn't been sure if it was simply an effect of his nondescript physical appearance. Now… with him chuckling diabolically right into her face… she wondered if it were possible that….

"I see," Bishop said after his laughter subsided. Backing away from Allison, he looked at her with an odd twinkle in his eye. "Well then, that certainly answers that question." His statement only caused more questions to arise in Allison's mind, but she didn't voice them. Between having mutated and being kidnapped and tied up and talking to a conceited robot, she was pretty sure that she had enough for one day.

Bishop turned again, and this time walked quickly and purposefully out of the room. As far as she could tell, it seemed that he was completely unaware that, during their entire conversation, she had been slowly using her claws to tear through the leather straps. Knowing that someone was watching her through some sort of surveillance camera, she only ripped them enough so that she would be able to pull her way out when the opportune moment arose, whenever that may be.

She glanced back at Raphael. He was trying to peer behind him, as though listening to be sure that Bishop had really left. A look into his face told Allison that he wasn't exactly in top form. He had very clearly been drugged, as Bishop must have known that Raphael was strong enough to get himself free, especially when he was incensed.

"Raphael." At the sound of her voice, Raphael slowly turned to look at her with droopy eyes. In the same way she used to talk to her coworkers who had gotten drunk when they weren't supposed to, she said, "It's gonna be alright." Raphael let out a smirk and responded, "Of course it is." His voice was muddled, forcing Allison to strain her ears to hear him. She was all the more surprised when she heard him say,

"It's always alright when we're together."