A/N: Here we go! Next chappie! A huge thanks to all you who reviewed. I always respond to everyone personally, but I just wanted to thank you all again. Many of you readers are also writers... you know better than anyone what a review means to an author. We're not getting paid here, we survive on reviews! So, thanks for taking a minute to leave me a few lines!

Here's my obligatory warning for Mikell and everyone else, too... if you're drinking tea, put it down! Laughing with tea in your mouth is not good for computer screens!

Ok, that's all I've got. On with the show!

Top secret government agent John Bishop had the strongest urge to kill something.

The last few months had simply sent him in that direction. Obstacle after obstacle, misfortune after misfortune, dilemma after blasted dilemma… if only he had something to dissect. Yes, that would feel good… he hadn't had a good dissection in a long time.

Strictly speaking, he wasn't a top secret government agent anymore. He was now, in politically correct terms, a member of the previously employed. In real world terms, he had been unceremoniously sacked and his program scrapped.

The fools. He had been the world's first – no, their only – defense against hostile alien invasion. Hadn't that fiasco with the Triceratons way back proven beyond a doubt that they couldn't afford to lose him? And what exactly was he supposed to do now? Did they honestly think he planned on spending the rest of his life doing "home security", or boring genetic studies on fruit flies, or – heaven forbid – flipping burgers?

Times were hard. The government had been making all kinds of cut-backs in an attempt to stay afloat in the floundering economy and, apparently, Bishop was expendable. And where else was there, besides the government? No one else needed a brilliant, out of work, slightly twisted mastermind.

Not that he was being completely unproductive with his time. He had been chased out, it was true, but not before making off with his last project. Fortunately, he had been moving a great deal of equipment to a private warehouse over the last few years. Granted, now that he was working alone, progress had been slow, but now… now he was finally finished.

For all the good that did.

On his own, with no lackeys or pathetic pawns to do the dirty work for him, Bishop had no means of getting his hands on the one crucial key that the project needed to work. If only he could clear this last hurdle… it would be worth the pride it was costing him.

Bishop stared up at the huge building in front of him with a sneer that was full to bursting with self-pity. When he had first come across the particular object that had started this project, he had seen himself going far with it. There were so many places he had seen himself ending up, but here had never been remotely near making that list.

He had never anticipated seeing the day that he would be going to Oroku Saki for help.

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"You are John Bishop?"

Bishop rose to his feet with no small amount of irritation, though it was carefully hidden behind the mask of his impartial face. He had been kept waiting in the lobby for much longer than what he knew was absolutely necessary. Saki was trying to establish some sort of superiority over him, he knew. But they were playing the political game now, one that Bishop was well versed in.

"Yes," he answered smoothly. "And you, of course, can only be Oroku Saki."

"A safe guess," Saki returned, looking thoroughly bored. "Considering this is my building. I have been informed that you have some sort of deal you wish to make."

"Is there somewhere less… out in the open?" Bishop demanded, establishing some power of his own. "What I have to show you is very delicate. For your eyes only, and no one else's."

Haughtily, Saki turned and exited the room through a sliding door, beckoning Bishop to follow him. Bishop picked up his carrying case and walked behind him, cursing the ones who had fired him continuously as he did so for putting him in this position of need. As they entered Saki's private office, he snorted softly to himself. The grandeur of the place was impressive, of course, but impractical to the point of ridiculousness.

Saki came to a halt very suddenly, turning around and crossing his arms as the door slid closed behind them. He did not offer Bishop a seat.

"Speak your piece," he commanded coolly.

Bishop smiled. "I know of your struggles with the four terrapin creatures… that is to say, the mutant turtle freaks… and I believe I have something here that can help."

Saki said nothing, but continued to stare coldly at him, waiting. Bishop set the case down and unlatched it, moving slowly to draw out some sort of interest in Saki.

"This," Bishop announced, bringing out his project. "This is what will help you destroy the turtles once and for all."

"A… helmet?" Saki questioned, unimpressed. "This is your secret weapon to destroying the turtles?"

Bishop chuckled quietly. He handed the helmet over to Saki for further inspection. The front came down lower than a normal helmet, to cover the eyes of the wearer. There were a few wires coming out of it, but nothing about the device looked particularly impressive in any way whatsoever.

"It may not seem like much to you," Bishop explained. "But I believe one of the turtles in particular may be able to enlighten you on its history."

"Explain."

Bishop smiled, taking the helmet back. "This is a piece of Triceraton technology that I, through means of my own, managed to acquire at great risk. Originally, I believe that it was some sort of device designed to forcibly retrieve memories from the wearer. However, this particular helmet no longer functions in that manner."

"What then, was the purpose of acquiring it at… such great risk?" Saki asked mockingly.

"This device was used by the Triceratons on the turtle Donatello," Bishop answered. Saki's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, and his gaze shot back to the helmet, intrigued again.

"Somehow, Donatello managed to short out this device while it was being used on him," Bishop continued. "The actual process behind that is complicated and it would take too long to explain right now," he said, keeping his tone even and as respectful as he could. No sense in insulting the intelligence of the one man who could help him.

"All you need to know is that somehow, the turtle Donatello's brain waves were imprinted onto the circuits. Think of it as information being burned on to a compact disc. It is only compatible with his brain activity now… when he shorted the circuits, he somehow managed to hardwire it to work only on his wavelength."

"And you know all of this… how? I sincerely doubt you were present for these events."

"I was not," Bishop admitted. "How I pieced together the history of this helmet, as I said, is of no importance at the moment. That story can come later, after we have what I need."

"I do not see how this could possibly be of any use to me," Saki snapped, folding his arms across his chest again in impatience. He was quickly tiring of this man. "Any information I want from the turtles, I have other… methods… of obtaining."

Bishop shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes. "As I told you, it won't work to siphon memories out of the mind anymore. After a great deal of engineering and reworking, I have developed this into an entirely new creation, with an even better function." He smiled, eyes alighting in the anticipation of future nefarious deeds. All for the good of planet Earth, of course.

"This particular device is also connected to a computer that only I have access to. If you can somehow get this helmet on Donatello's head…" He paused dramatically, gesturing to the helmet with a flourish.

"If you can get this on him," he finished, "We will have control over his mind."

Saki's response was, in Bishop's opinion, overwhelmingly disappointing. After a moment of silent contemplation, Saki retreated to his desk and sat behind it. Bishop narrowed his eyes and followed him over, stopping in front of the desk and seething inside at the way Saki was treating him so inferiorly rather than being properly impressed.

"Well?" he asked, having a hard time keeping his voice at its usual sinuous timbre.

"Why are you here?" Saki asked finally. Bishop's eyes narrowed even further at the question. "You already have this technology in your hands," Saki continued, studying the former agent. "Why have you come to me? What exactly is the deal you came to make?"

"Through a series of… unfortunate circumstances… I've lost my team. I'm working on my own now and…" Bishop took a deep breath, preparing himself to swallow his pride. "I need help. I can't capture Donatello on my own. This simply will not work without the turtle, and I believe you can get him for me."

"So you want me and my Foot ninja to simply hand over the turtle to you?" Saki growled. "And why should we? What's in this for me?"

"Please, Saki," Bishop grunted, nearly dropping all pretenses of respect. "You and I both know that you want the turtles out of your way. I happen to know you've been set on revenge for a long time. This is your chance to get it. You give me Donatello, and the other three are yours. If necessary, I'll even use the helmet on Donatello to help you get the others, and the rat as well."

Saki didn't speak for a moment, thinking hard to himself. Revenge. It was all he wanted. Well, that and world domination, of course. Perhaps… perhaps there was a way to achieve both out of this deal. Perhaps… yes… Saki smiled, extending a hand to the man before him.

"Very well, Bishop," he said with a sinister air of artificial friendliness that Bishop didn't trust in the slightest. "We have a deal."

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