Chapter Two: The Gamer

"Leo? Leo!"

Don stared at the cell in a dumb panic for a second before going to trace Leonardo's shell cell. There, not far from Shredder's HQ. As he watched, the steady blue blip vanished; he flinched.

Without realizing it, Don started pacing and muttering to himself. "Okay, Don, stay calm. What do I know? From what Leo said, an enemy has captured him, one who knows there are several of us. He- or they- probably plans on using Leo as bait to get the rest of us. That can't mean anything good for Leo. Oh, no!" He froze, his mind whirling deeper into panic. "What if it's Bishop?"

"Hey!" Suddenly Saja stood before him, gripping his shoulders, halting his pacing. "Wake! Worry shall not aid you. Act brave, like the great Parvoss."

Don snapped out of it. "Y-you're right. Panic won't help me." Great Parvoss? Must be some hero or celebrity from her culture. Ugh, I don't have time or mental energy to make anthropological guesses.

Dropping her hands, Saja stepped back. "Your brother?"

"Yes. My oldest brother Leo has apparently been captured." Don allowed the girl to lead him to the table, and he sat down. His hands were shaking.

"You have how many brothers? One you talked to on that-" Saja pointed to the shell cell still in his hand- "he sounded fine by your teasing that good."

"You're right. That is good. Raph and Casey are okay. But let's see where they are." He flipped open his laptop, which he had apparently left on the kitchen table earlier, and jiggled while the machine booted, and the program loaded. When it finally came up, he hit the R hotkey. The red blip representing his hotheaded brother signaled from deep in Purple Dragon territory. At least, his shell cell is, he thought glumly.

"Any more brother?" Saja prompted.

"Yes. Michelangelo, or Mikey. He's the youngest. He and Master Splinter were supposed to be with Leo…" Don's quick fingers located the orange blip not far from where Leo's had been, and moving at an estimated 40 mph toward it. On a street.

"Shell," gasped Don, jumping to his feet.

He jabbed the orange button on his phone; there was no answer. Panic clawing at him again like the long talons of a dragon, he checked Master Splinter's tracer – it matched Mikey's in position and alarming speed- and tried his shell cell. Without orders, his fingers pulled out his headset and put it on.

Then he noticed his legs had taken him to his master computer's chair. Don gratefully sank onto it with fingers poised as someone picked up, and his breath caught.

"Hello, Opponent," said a smooth, pleasant man's voice. "I hear you're a genius. That's providential- I'm no dimwit myself. I also hear you're a scientist. I am, too- well, sort of. I have scientist associations, anyway. My brother-in-law. So we're a matching of opponents."

"Who are you?" Anger and a touch of fear colored Don's demand. He opened up his family's tracers in his shell cell program on his much faster master computer and watched the three blips, two of which were almost on top of each other. Hopefully they weren't actually.

The man laughed carelessly. "What, 'Opponent' isn't good enough for you? Call me the Gamer, then. Everyone else does."

Don pulled up his favorite search engine for looking up bad guys and typed in 'The Gamer.'

"Anyway, down to the business of the game. I have Leader- you already heard from him. He's the prize for getting through the hack-and-slash level- and now I have Kid and, uh, Rodent. Did you ever play Frogger? Not the original; that was boring. The Hasbro one from the nineties. You get to play it now, on the extra-challenging real-life version. Oh, and, let's see here, I've got multiple genres planned… A racing level, a platform-y Frogger level, that fighting one I already mentioned… Oh, and two bonus levels. I don't even know what those are gonna be like. No idea how you're gonna find 'em." He chuckled, as if discussing exciting vacation plans like waterparks and mini golf. "Here, proof I've got Kid." Don heard the speakerphone's distinctive tone. "No biting, Kid, or this goes straight back on."

"Ow!" groaned Mikey, over the swishing of cloth. "That thing was tied so tight, it was cutting off blood flow to my nose!"

"Stop complaining, you pest." The Gamer didn't sound quite so easygoing now.

"If you think you're getting away with this, you are seriously wrong, dude. My bro prob'ly already knows our exact location, your hideout, your evil plan, and ten problems with it."

"Mikey!"

"Don!" Mikey cried, relief in his voice. "Hey, this bad guy- a supervillain- snatched me and-"

"Mikey," Don managed to cut in, "Nihongo." The Japanese word for Japanese. Leonardo had recently suggested this practice for their all-too-frequent capture situations—assuming, of course, that the capture wasn't by the Foot, most of whom probably understood Japanese better than English.

"Uh... Not sure 'bout that, bro…" The youngest turtle hesitated, then stuck to English. "He's got me an' Master Splinter. I think Leo's in another van or something—we got separated. He's got some evil techno stuff- you gotta watch out for that. And he says he's gonna lock us up and make you find us. But no worries. I totally have faith in you, Donnie."

I hope your faith in me is well-founded, Don thought. And why isn't he sure if it's the Foot or not? Aloud he said, "Are you and Master Splinter okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Totally. We're peachy, dude."

"Mikey…" Donatello warned, hearing the lie in his little brother's voice.

The orange-clad turtle sighed in defeat. "Well, I'm just a little banged up from when they took me down. You know, minor cuts and confusions, like you call 'em."

"Cuts and contusions, you mean?" Donatello hid a smile. "A contusion is just a bruise, you know."

"Right. That." Mikey quieted. "Anyway, they really do have serious techno-wacko stuff. And I'm okay, but Master Splinter is still out. And he feels like he's not breathing very much. Find us soon, okay, Donnie?"

Feels like? Are you blindfolded too? Oh, Mikey, I wish I was there right now. "Hang on for a little while, Mikey. I'll find you. Besides, not even a supervillain is a match for the Turtle Titan!"

After a brief pause, Donatello's new enemy picked up. "Have a nice chat? Unfortunately, this, er, Rodent of Unusual Size is still napping, so you'll have to take my word that it's here. The game of your life –or at least, of their lives- will commence when I next contact you."

"You make a game out of kidnapping and murder?" Ice touched Don's spine.

The Gamer laughed. "Everything is a game to me, Opponent. Ta-ta."

As Don ended the call, emotions vied for attention like feisty little boys with their father- anger, disgust, and even self-pity. He jumped when his guest laid a cool hand on his arm; her serious brown eyes met his. "Tell me."

"He's got Mikey and Master Splinter, too, and he says he's going to hide them for me to find. And Master Splinter needs –might need- medical attention." The turtle heard a note of despair in his voice and shook himself. It's not that bad. We've been in tougher situations. I just have to find them within a few hours… in New York City.

"But enemy go capture all your brother? He has not R-Raph? You must warn." Saja's words tumbled out; she shook his arm before pointing to the shell cell.

She's right!

Don punched Raph's button and jiggled his leg through one ring, two rings, three rings… C'mon, Raph, pick up!

"Yo! What's up; we're kinda busy here. We- gotta- lotta- heads ta bash in- whoa!" A jarring crash signaled Raphael dropping his phone, followed by the distant thumps, grunts, loud curses, and clanging metal of a battle.

"Who are dese guys?!" he heard Casey yell. "Hey, no fair! Dey got darts an' little spiky metal things!"

"Shuriken," corrected both turtles.

"Whatever- ow!"

Oh, no.

"Raph! Casey!" Don shouted into the phone. He felt Saja jump beside him.

"Yo!" came two voices, a little closer.

"Retreat! Get away from them! Don't let them catch you!"

There was rustling and heavy, rapid breathing as Raph picked up the shell cell and perhaps even pulled out the headset. "Ya know somethin' we don't, Don?"

"If you're fighting who I think you're fighting, then they have Leo, Mikey, and Master Splinter already!"

Raphael grunted and took a deep breath to say something of more substance. At that moment, Don heard Casey's yelp, followed by what he thought was a swooshing of air.

"Casey!" bellowed Raph; Don flinched and jerked the earpiece away. "Casey's gone! A dart hit him and he just vanished!"

In half an instant, his brain had come up several possible explanations. Light-bending camouflage? Invisibility? Teleportation? Vaporization? What kind of serious technology am I dealing with? Don's stomach lurched. "Raph-"

The red-masked turtle gave a wordless bellow of rage and loss as he dropped the phone again. After another breathless moment of listening to faint battlesounds, a burst of painfully loud static ended the call; the shell cell had probably been stepped on.

Pulling off his headset and rubbing at his ear, Don looked up at Saja. "This is not good. Casey got hit by something powerful and vanished, and Raph- I'd love to think he listened to me, but that's highly unlikely. Three bets says he gets hit by a dart too. If only I could take a look at this tech Mikey mentioned…" He shook his head. "Oh." He picked up his shell cell again and punched the C button for Casey, but after about ten rings, the robot lady grimly informed him that his call could not be completed as dialed. He frowned.

Saja hesitated before pointing to the shell cell on the table. "It have an eye?"

"Eye, as in vision?" Donatello pointed to his eye. I guess I'm gonna have to trust her. Maybe she's just acting, but she certainly doesn't seem physically dangerous at least.

"Yes. Machine eye."

How much does she know about technology? She didn't know about the fridge. "It's got a camera, yes; it can take pictures. In fact, I also installed a video camera- oh!" In the two seconds it took to open the live video file from Mikey's shell cell, he registered a smug look on Saja's face.

"Machine ear?" Saja leaned over him as they waited breathlessly for the camera.

Don shook his head, his eyes glued to the screen. "No, I only just installed the camera, and-"

The screen loaded, revealing a shifting black view.

"It's probably in a bag or pocket," the turtle whispered, although Saja probably could have guessed.

After a full minute, the usually patient Don started jiggling his leg. At the three-minute mark, he was popping the case on and off one of his small projects. In another two minutes, he had disassembled it. "Come on, isn't it time you arrived at Bad Guy HQ? Weren't you almost there? Don't tell me I missed it."

Saja watched with a hint of amusement as the turtle reassembled the tech without actually looking at it. He later discovered in doing so, he had accidentally fixed an annoying design flaw. Finally, after six and a half minutes, the screen flew up into a florescent light. Both girl and turtle instinctively narrowed their eyes. After dizzily swinging around, they saw the man holding the shell cell frowning at it- a brown-haired, blue-eyed American wearing black Foot robes.

Don groaned. "So the Shredder is behind this. He's back from wherever he disappeared to, then—or maybe this is happening under Karai's orders. But what's up with this Gamer? Is he a front or an ally of Shredder? And why isn't that Foot wearing his mask?"

"He is hot?"

The Foot looked up, as if his name had been called, and the screen swung like a trapeze artist –once the Foot even tossed it- as he hurried to catch up. More shadows, then a series of dim yellow lights. A glimpse of various masked Foot ninjas, a blond scientist with the Foot symbol on his lab coat, and a short man with a Pacman t-shirt.

Then the carrier held up the shell cell in time to watch four or five Foot ninjas swarm through a metal door, struggling with something short, green, and brown. Don smiled as he saw a flash of orange ribbon. A Foot stumbled out of the group, ejected by a green three-toed foot. Even gagged, blindfolded, and tied up, Mikey was a handful.

"Get 'em, Mikey,"he urged his little brother. And to his kidnappers, "Not so easy to kidnap as an average teenager, is he? He's a hyperactive, two-hundred-pound, teenage mutant ninja turtle!"

Don's grin died when T-Shirt Man dashed in behind Mikey, yelling something. Mikey froze as the man lifted his arm, something shiny in his hand.

The carrier Foot moved forward, and they got a view of boring blue-and-white tiles and the Foot's black pant leg. Don growled in frustration, pounding the desk with his fist, but succeeded only in startling Saja.

Between additional flashes of leg shots, they glimpsed Mikey escorted by a dozen wary Foot and the grinning T-Shirt Man, of whose face Don snapped a still. While he enhanced and analyzed it, the unmasked ninja tossed the shell cell into a dark place, after which point it showed an unchanging view of an orange-wrapped hexagonal nunchaku handle.

"Watch that for me, would you?" Donatello flipped the video up onto an auxiliary screen while he ran through the recorded video, typing up clues, taking more screenshots, and running ideas through his genius brain.

This done, he jumped up to grab his well-worn duffle and equip it further. "Hang on, guys. I'm coming."