Disclaimer: TMNT aren't mine.

"Ugh!" Raphael grumbled in annoyance, waving a dish rag around. "I don't see why we are stuck washing the dishes! Michelangelo made this mess! I mean look at this kitchen, you'd think we had a battle in here…and that's being generous!"

Piles of plates covered the counters, raw eggs and pizza dough clung dreadfully to the floor. Donatello was sure there were a few pieces of broken glass on the floor as well, along with some puddles of milk. Raphael had a point…it did look like maybe the Technodrome had rolled through…but Mike had never been a clean chef. He was a talented one, but not a neat one.

Donatello sighed rather loudly at Raphael's complaining, but didn't take his eyes off the sink full of dishes in front of him. His arms were up to the elbows in sudsy water, attempting to scrub the caked on grime off of the plates without much luck.

"You'd think I would have invented something by now to make this easier…maybe that should be my next task…" Donatello wondered out loud, the distracted gears in his brain beginning to churn as ideas flooded in at the mere mention of inventing something.

"Cheer up guys!" Leonardo said brightly from next to Raphael. "Manual labor is good for the soul. It builds character!"

Raphael grumbled as Donatello handed him another dish to dry, errant suds speckling onto the red clad ninja's face. He scowled and used a wrist band to wipe them off as he moodily grabbed the offered plate from his genius brother and dried it with reluctant, jerky motions.

"I'll admit to being a character…" Raphael snarked, trailing off at the end.

"…but if you have a soul remains to be seen," Donatello finished the thought impishly before Raphael had a chance to.

Raphael snorted his offense and gave the dry plate to Leonardo. The leader took out a katana, carefully balanced the plate on the tip and began to spin it, his expression one of intense concentration as he swayed side to side to keep up the momentum and stability. He then quickly raised his katana and the plate took off, neatly landing on the pile of dried plates on the counter in front of him. He nodded in satisfaction at his work.

"Show off…" Raphael muttered under his breath.

Donatello hummed in agreement as Leonardo shook his head, having heard his younger brother's comment.

"Not in the least," he commented sternly, "I see this as a great time to practice my ninja skills. Balance and concentration are key attributes to continually hone and perfect."

Raphael chuckled dryly. "Looks more like a circus act to me, Leo. Maybe next time we fight Shredder you can distract him with your ever impressive side show while the rest of us watch him die from laughter. Great plan there…"

"Master Splinter always says that a true ninja turns every situation into a learning opportunity, no matter how unlikely," Leonardo crossed his arms, defending himself against Raphael's sarcasm. "Speaking of which, it's time for practice. We can finish this later."

Raphael and Donatello wordlessly nodded and dried off their hands before heading to the dojo. Don replaced his wrist bands as they walked, having removed them in order to wash the dishes. Raphael lagged slightly in the rear, griping to himself in barely audible phrases about "Sensei's pet" and "Mr. Perfect."

Splinter was waiting for them in the dojo, seated on his tatami mat in a meditative lotus position, but his intense eyes were open. His incense stick had dwindled to a stump, but its spicy smell still clung to the air. He nodded slightly in welcome as they kneeled before him in a semi-circle.

"Good morning, my students," the former human spoke as he stood, using his wooden stick for leverage. "Today I am going to teach you a new move, it is called –"

His voice hesitated as his questioning gaze swept across the turtles, stopping at Leonardo and becoming a mix of displeasure and curiosity.

"Where is Michelangelo?" the ninja master's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I do not recall excusing him from practice this morning…"

"He had gone to his room, Master Splinter, he was upset. I will go retrieve him," Leonardo got to his feet, the blood rushing back into his legs.

"Please do," Splinter replied curtly, "I would like to have a word with him about being late for practice. This is not the first time. He is not showing his sensei proper respect."

Leonardo bowed to Splinter before he headed off to Mike's room at a bounding sprint. The last thing he wanted was for his youngest brother to get in trouble, but Mike did have a few things to learn about being responsible, and Splinter could be creative with his punishments. Last time Mike was late was because he had lost track of time playing a video game. Splinter had made him train for an extra hour a day for a week and he also had to eat sushi for the week as well. Splinter remembered that Donatello had once remarked that fish was brain food, and Splinter took video games as "brain-rot", and thus the sensei said Mike needed to make up for the "lost brain matter." Donatello had tried to add that there was no evidence that video games caused "brain-rot" and that there were actually studies to the contrary that they helped hand/eye coordination, but Splinter would have none of that. He was set in his ways, Michelangelo needed to learn a lesson, he said, and what better way than to have to give up pizza and eat the food he hated for a week? It had worked well, too...this had happened months ago and Mike hadn't been late since…until today.

"Mikey?" Leo called into his brother's room. "I know you wanted to go to that convention, and I'm sorry you couldn't go, but you need to stop moping. It's time for practice and…" his words vanished like a puff of smoke when he noticed Mike's room was completely empty. "Mike?"

"He's gone, Leo," He heard Donatello's concerned voice behind him.

Leo turned slowly, immediately beholding Donatello's troubled expression.

"I went to grab my Bo out of the Turtle Van for practice because I had left it in there last time we went out…and it's gone," Donatello stated.

Leo quirked an eyebrow ridge at his brother. "Your bo is gone? You have more. What does that have to do with Mike?"

"No, Leo, the van is gone. Mike must have taken it."

Leo's brow furrowed, any sympathy for his youngest sibling melting away. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching in a rare display of vexation. "After I TOLD him not to go? Come on, Don, we have a convention to crash…"

A/N: UH OH MIKEY….XD