Kneeling wasn't at all a natural posture for Metalhead, so instead Donatello sat.
"I'm going to the Technodrome," he said, in the same tone he might have used to announce he was going to bed.
Splinter didn't quite know how to react. It was still not so long ago that none of his sons would have dared to speak to him that way. Then, suddenly, Leonardo was "going topside", Michelangelo was "going to see April", and Raphael - most worrying of all - was "going out for some air".
Now Donatello, his gentlest son, whose behavior had become increasingly erratic and defiant, was "going to the Technodrome".
"What do you intend to do there?" Splinter asked quietly, because it was clear that no would only be ignored.
"Make sure it can never be used again," Donatello replied. "Try to learn enough about Krang and his technology that nothing like this can ever happen again. And…" He paused. "... spend some time with Honeycutt."
Splinter furrowed his brow at the unanticipated answer.
"There's never been anyone to teach me how to be a Turtle," Donatello said, very softly. "But someone can teach me how to be a robot."
Splinter's reply was careful. "My son, I am glad you are making the most of your temporary state, but -"
"It's not temporary," Donatello interrupted. He held his father's gaze as that sank in, as Splinter sat back. "The odds are 94% that I won't be able to return to my body." He looked away, the force of his own words affecting him too. "I'm… I'm more useful like this anyway."
The idea struck Splinter so deeply he couldn't even respond, and without waiting for him to, Donatello stood up. On his feet, he still wasn't any taller than his kneeling father.
"I'd better get going," he said. "I'll be back in a few weeks."
And then he was gone. Splinter's children were always gone, lately, and sometimes it seemed as though they never really came back at all.
The nights had been lonely - when his family slept, and Don just plugged himself into an extension cord and kept working in his lab - but the walk back to Harold's was the first time he'd been really alone since his awakening.
In a strange way, though, he didn't feel alone. The flamethrowers gave him a sense of comfort that he could never seem to get from his bo, no matter how many hours he spent training to make it an extension of his arms. The metal body gave him a sense of safety he had never been able to find in his own skin.
He almost wanted someone to pick a fight with him.
But between Michelangelo's nervous goodbye and Harold's distracted hello, he encountered no one.
"I'm going to the Technodrome," he announced.
"I'm not your babysitter," Harold snapped, without even turning around from whatever he was working on. "Go wherever you want."
Without another word, Don activated the teleporter, and stepped through.
Immediately he regretted not taking a moment to recalibrate the machine properly. He had simply set it to the same coordinates he had used to send his brothers to Burnow Island, and that location was a long way from the Technodrome.
He started walking.
"Could use Speeder Mode," he muttered to himself, but in another sense, he couldn't.
The place was a wasteland. Nothing was living, though many formerly-living things were strewn about the barren landscape, lying as they had fallen. It was eerie. Don had a strong instinct that he should hold his breath, even though he already wasn't breathing. He wasn't sure what he had onboard that could analyze air samples, but he was confident that if and when he found such a function, it wouldn't tell him anything good about the local atmosphere.
He focused on covering ground. His coordination had improved greatly over the last few weeks, and walking had become almost effortless. Metalhead hadn't been built for long-range use, though, and the shortness of his legs made progress frustratingly slow.
He occupied his mind by imagining what this must have been like for his brothers. The environment would have been more hospitable – Mike had described lush forests of trees, before Raph had interrupted to describe the armies that were locked in battle all over the island. That, at least, was an obstacle Don didn't have to deal with. The lifeless bodies of the soldiers only forced him to take minor detours, sticking to the easiest terrain.
Leo had described the tactical problems caused by their failed rendezvous with Fugitoid. Without the robot's guidance, they had had to infiltrate the Technodrome on their own, then locate the Professor.
It occurred to Don that this time, Honeycutt didn't even know anyone was coming. He mentally kicked himself for the oversight, then apologized to himself for the kicking when he realized he had no means of contacting anyone on the island. So far as he knew, all the communication systems had been destroyed in the battle. Ironically, he'd be doing this the old-fashioned way.
It took him nearly until nightfall to reach the Technodrome, then some further exploration to locate an entrance. It was completely unguarded – either because Honeycutt was a dedicated pacifist, or because he knew that anyone who tried to invade would be defeated by the toxic air long before they accomplished anything.
Don had never been in the Technodrome, but he knew its layout from the blueprints Honeycutt had shown him. How much of that layout was still intact, however, he wasn't sure.
After a moment's thought, he decided to head for the control room. If Honeycutt wasn't there now, he surely would be eventually. Don could wait as long as was necessary. It took a few false starts, working his way around collapsed hallways, but his memory was good and he found his destination without incident.
He was somewhat surprised to find the room operational. Data was skimming across the screens – and Honeycutt was standing in front of them, working at the keyboard.
Don took a step into the room. "Hi."
Honeycutt turned in surprise. "Donatello. What are you doing here?"
"I've come to destroy the Technodrome," he said, and it felt surprisingly good to give the mental push that morphed all the weapons from Metalhead's hands. "This place is still way too intact."
"Oh no no no. Put those away at once!" Honeycutt moved to stand in front of Don, preventing him from shooting or setting fire to anything. "No one is destroying the Technodrome!"
"Yes, I can see that." Don activated the flamethrower's pilot light and the Anti-Gravity Gauntlet's "ready" setting. "But someone should be. I'm happy to volunteer."
"Donatello," Honeycutt said, not ceding his ground. "Look at what you are about to destroy. Rarely have I seen such an exceptional piece of technology, and no one can access it but us. Why would we not take advantage of such a resource?"
Don lowered his weapons just slightly. "Because it's a planet-destroying super-weapon? How exactly do you plan to take advantage of it?"
"It is a machine," Honeycutt replied mildly. "It does only what it is programmed to do." He turned towards the control panel, and gestured for Don to follow. "Come and see."
Don hesitated a moment, then retracted the weapons and moved towards the screen. "Stockman attempted to turn the Technodrome to his own purposes by infecting it with malware," Honeycutt explained, as he manipulated the data on the screen. "The virus is still in the system and I am not yet confident it is safely contained. Beware of this as you work with the code." Don was about to protest that he had no intention of working with the code, but Honeycutt spoke over him and continued. "Krang avoided the malware by switching to a back-up routine; I overrode this by rerouting the power source. The core of the Technodrome is still operational, and its computing power is almost unimaginable. We can use it to do tremendous good, Donatello."
Don skimmed the output scrolling up the screen, and warred with himself. What would his family say? Mike would definitely be in favor of tremendous good. Leo would point out the advantages of a base that their enemies could not approach without immediately asphyxiating. On the other hand, Raph always came down on the side of destroying things, and Splinter was probably too preoccupied with the currently-unknown whereabouts of the Shredder to care what happened to the Technodrome.
"I must recharge," Honeycutt said, moving away from the keyboard and touching his chest. A panel sprang open, and he drew out an extension cord. "You may do as you wish, but consider: If you destroy the Technodrome while I am plugged in, you will destroy me too." He held Don's gaze a moment longer than seemed necessary. "I think there is another reason why you came here – and that, I will be honored to assist with."
He pushed his plug into an outlet, settled cross-legged on the floor, and powered down, leaving Don alone with the biggest weapon of his worst enemy.