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CHAPTER 03
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I bolted into Don's lab, phone in hand. "Did you see any road signs? Street names?" He didn't answer. "Mike? Mike!"
He was fading in and out. The first question I asked was if he was hurt. He said he yes, something about his leg, but was vague on details. He was confused, I could tell right away. I was having a lot of trouble getting him to focus, which might sound funny any other time, but I definitely wasn't laughing now.
"Yeah…" he said finally, breathing heavily into the phone. "When I leffft… the, uh, freeway, I saw signs for Albany. Think I'm… somewhere 'round there."
Albany was pretty far north, at least a hundred and fifty miles. He didn't remember which freeway, but he did say the signs were leading in, so that would likely put him south of there. I frantically started sticking pins in Don's map while asking for landmarks. He said he was on a river. A big one? Yes. Had to be the Hudson. I stuck a pin. What did he see? A restaurant, boats, a construction yard; he gave me more vague answers, but I jotted down every detail.
I pressed him for information, but he cut me off. "Leo… I gotta go. I'm… it's not safe. I'm out in the open."
I told him to go, to hide. I said I would be there as soon as I could, that I would find him. I told him to hang on. He hung up and I sat for a minute with my eyes closed. This was not going to be an easy trip and I needed to be prepared. The northern blockade was difficult to pass and would take me hours. I checked the map again. Northampton was closer than we were. I dialed April and Casey. After many rings, Casey finally answered, groggy but there. After I explained the situation he was of course on point. I tried to pass on as much information as I could. He was running out the door even as we hung up.
I wasn't sure what to expect. I didn't know about the others, but I planned ahead just in case. I went through Don's lab, packing essentials, tossing everything I could think of into a messenger bag. I briefed Splinter and he wished me luck. There was no sense in us both going, especially when Hun could call with information at any moment. It made sense to have at least one of us here at home base, just in case one of the others turned out to be close by.
I turned the combination lock and slid open the garage door. Inside was Raphael's motorcycle, my ticket out of the city. I knew how to ride, but I usually preferred not to. I never could understand the appeal. I just didn't see the purpose of putting your life at risk simply for the thrill of it, and I say that as a ninja who voluntarily engages in combat. But there is purpose to pushing back our enemies; we are at war, and every advantage we allow them, we deny ourselves. I threw on some clothes and secured Raph's helmet onto my own head, wincing slightly at the smell. As much as I disliked the thing, I was thankful to have the bike now. The fighting around the city had left unexpected road blockages, and so a more nimble vehicle was definitely the way to go. It would get me to the northern end of the island, but eventually I'd have to ditch it so I could pass by the blockades. There were too many soldiers and way too much fighting in the area for me to even attempt stay topside, and so I would have no choice but to head underground on foot. That would take time. Once I passed by the congestion, I would look for a vehicle to hotwire and take me the rest of the way. Three or four hours minimum, I thought, and that's if everything went smooth. Casey would certainly arrive before I would, but there was no guarantee that he'd be able to locate Mike before I got there.
I gunned the bike, pushing it through as fast as I dared. Our call had been too brief and I could tell Mikey was really hurt. I tried not to think about him out there in the wilderness, scared, alone and injured. I tried not to wonder why he was calling from so far away, or why he hadn't mentioned the others at all.
I stowed the bike in an abandoned lot and made my way across the river to the western bank. The bridge there was of course inaccessible, so I went below, which was only marginally better. The tunnels didn't have the military crawling all over it, but they were certainly crawling. Engaging the bugs could go from bad to worse in an instant, as it was impossible to tell how many were down there in the nooks and crannies. I opted for stealth over combat, which took more time, but I had no choice. It wouldn't do Mike any good if I got myself killed trying to get to him.
I liberated a delivery truck from a line of them, feeling less bad about borrowing one of many, rather than someone's personal vehicle. I searched through until I found one with a full tank of gas, cracked the console, attached the wires, and it sprang to life. So far, so good. I looked at my phone, wondering if he would try to call again, or if I should try calling the number back. The area code checked out against what he'd been telling me, so I knew I was heading in the right direction at least. I decided to call Casey instead, to check in with him.
Casey was already on the scene, but he didn't sound hopeful. He'd found the one road Mike remembered seeing, but it ran the length of the river for many miles, meaning there was a lot of ground to cover. I went over the few landmarks Mike had mentioned again and we hung up. I closed my eyes and gripped the wheel just a second, steadying myself. I reminded myself not to speed. The activity in the city had increased the police presence in all surrounding areas. I put the truck in drive and headed north, determined to bring my little brother home.
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There was a yellow, flickering light on one side of the cantina. I focused on the bulb a second, watching as the bugs (normal ones, not the mutated versions) surrounding the light fought to get closer, ramming themselves into the glass over and over as if they couldn't get close enough. As I watched, a large moth either hit too hard or ran out of steam; a second later he fell to the dock, twitching. I let out a long sigh. When did I last sleep? More than twenty-four hours ago. Maybe more than forty-eight, I wasn't sure. I looked out over the long wooden dock, listening to the waves lapping against the posts. The restaurant and bait shop were here. Industrial yard across the river, just like he said. A red barge docked a small distance away on the right. Every landmark Mikey described was present. This had to be the right place. So where was he?
That's when I saw it. A payphone, ancient-looking nowadays, fused to the side of the cantina like it had been there since the beginning, encrusted in the riverside grime. There, flapping in the wind, tied to the strand of metal coil connecting handle to frame, was a long strip of familiar, orange cloth.
I sprinted towards it, yelling Mikey's name. I untied the mask and looked at it. The ends of it were stained with blood.
I whistled for Casey. Mike was close, there was no question now – but where? And why wasn't he answering me? I had to think. What would Mikey do? There was an empty building close by, an abandoned truck in the parking lot… either would make a good hiding spot but would take some time getting into. I had to think like Mikey, and I had to think like Mikey when he was hurt and scared. He wouldn't be looking for the best place, he'd be looking for the closest, darkest one. First rule of ninja: when in doubt, hide; and there was plenty of doubt in Mikey's voice when he called. I walked out onto the dock, to get a better look down the riverbank. At a loss, I leaned over the railing and looked down at the dark, wet sand there. There were deep impressions, footsteps, with drag marks trailing off to the right. Someone walking, dragging one leg. The trail led from farther up the beach, in the direction of the phone. Got him.
I vaulted over the railing into the hard-packed sand, searching under the dock for anything body-shaped. Right away I saw a lump in the darkness, my eyes adjusting just enough to pick out an overturned rowboat and tarp. I gripped the edge of the boat and hauled it over. There, face down in the sand, lay Michelangelo. I fell next to him, grabbing him and shaking him. His body felt cold. "Mikey? Mike, come on!" I turned him over, slapping at his face. "Hey! Come on Mikey, wake up!"
I kept shaking him and yelling. He wasn't moving. I pulled him in close, saying the words over and over. "Come on Mikey, please! Please wake up."
He groaned, and shifted. He didn't come to, not all the way, but it was okay. He was alive.
Casey came running up. The two of us were able to carry Mike back to the van. As we pulled out, my initial relief began to wear off and I took it all in. Mikey was really beat up. He had a sizeable wound in his right thigh, a puncture of some sort, maybe from a bullet. The whole area was swollen and bled whenever we moved him. I stripped some rags from the van to tie around it. There was another long cut in the side of his neck, but it wasn't too deep and looked like it had clotted. Still, that entire side of him was painted red, and I was very concerned at the amount of blood he'd lost already. The rest of his body was covered in small cuts and bruises. There weren't any blankets or anything in the van, so I pulled off my clothes and dressed him in them, trying to keep him warm. It was chilly by the river at night, but we were lucky for the time of year; had the weather been colder, he might not have survived at all.
I tried to talk to Mike on the ride back, but he was out cold. He mumbled a few things, moaning and crying out for Donatello specifically, something that didn't help to lessen my worry, but I still couldn't shake the fact that we had him, he was here, safe, and that was one down. Finally, I had found one of my brothers.
I made Mike as comfortable as I could and returned to the passenger seat. "How much longer?" I asked Casey.
"Ahhh… half an hour, about," he said. We were heading back to Northampton naturally, our only safe house this far north. "How's he doin'?"
I shook my head. "He's out. He… he keeps talking in his sleep. About Donnie, mostly." I didn't know why I was explaining. Casey could surely hear everything himself. "Donnie, he…" I couldn't finish. I suspected Don had sent Mikey back to us for some reason, but none of the explanations in my mind were good ones.
"Whatever you need, man," Casey said, taking his eyes from the road and looking at me straight on, "you know I'm in. Just say the word."
"Thanks Casey. You're a good friend."
He reached out and slapped a hand down on my shoulder. "We're gonna get 'em back Leo, don't you worry."
I changed the subject after that, asking him about April and about their time in the farmhouse. I tried to make it sound natural, like there wasn't this enormous cloud hanging over us all, but it wasn't easy. Casey seemed to understand though. We filled the time with small talk and I checked on Mikey throughout, but there was no change in his state until two days later.
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He was talking in his sleep. That was something Mikey had always been prone to doing, funny enough. The joke between us being the obvious one of course: that his motormouth just kept going whether he was conscious or not. But once again, there was nothing humorous about what was happening to him now. He was in distress; moaning, suffering in nightmares. Every time he called out for Donatello, it twisted my gut into knots. Wherever Don was, it didn't sound like he was in any better shape.
April and I tried to clean and dress his wounds, but we didn't know what was going on with his leg. It looked bad and she thought the same as I did, that it was from a bullet, but there was no exit wound so that probably meant it was still buried inside. I knew it was possible to live without removing it, though not recommended. I wasn't sure what we should do. I didn't want to go rooting around in there without knowing for sure. This was where Donatello's expertise really would have come in hand, and I was feeling the sting of not having him to rely on.
I dozed lightly on a cot by Mike's bedside, in one of the upstairs bedrooms of Casey's farmhouse. I woke to his voice. I assumed he was just talking incoherently again. I waited, listening.
"Donnie? Is that you? Where are we?"
I sat up. I reached over and gripped his forearm. "Donnie's not here, Mikey. It's me, Leo." I didn't think he would answer back.
"Leo? Did they get you too?"
It took me a second to process, before I realized what he meant. "No, Mikey. You're safe now. We're at the farmhouse." I stood and turned on the lamp in the corner, so he could see. "Casey and I found you by the river. Do you remember hiding out there?"
He squinted against the light. "Where's Donnie?" he asked.
His voice was gravelly, spacey (more than usual) and he didn't seem all there, but this was the most coherent he'd been since we found him. I sat back down on the cot and grabbed his hand. "I don't know," I told him. "I was hoping you could tell me that." I gave him some water, urging him to drink. I had to help him sit up. We'd all had our moments in the infirmary, but I had never seen Mikey in this bad a state.
"Mike," I pleaded. "You've got to tell me what happened. Where are Raph and Don?"
"Dunno 'bout Raph, they separated us," he said. "Me and Donnie got sold to Bishop." His chest started to heave. "Y-you gotta find him, Leo! You gotta find him before they cut him up…"
Bishop. There was that name again. This was bad. How many times had Bishop threatened to dissect us for science? Would he really make good on that threat? I wasn't about to wait around to find out. "Where?" I asked, pressing him. "Where were they taking you guys?"
"I don't know," he said. "I escaped from the truck… he told me to go… he couldn't walk, and I couldn't carry him and get away… I-I'm sorry Leo, I left him there." Tears began to stream down his face.
"Hey." I stood and wrapped an arm around him. "Hey, it's alright. You did the right thing, come on." I tried my best to console him. I couldn't imagine how hard it had been for him. When he settled down a little, I asked, "Why couldn't Donnie walk? What was wrong with him?"
He dragged the back of his hand across his face, wiping at it sloppily. "'Cause they beat him real bad," he said. "He was already busted up from the explosion. He couldn't really walk too good, even before they laid into him." His face twisted up with the memory. "They had us tied up in this warehouse for a while." I grimaced. He was talking about the room with the blood, where I'd found Don's tooth. "This one dude starts messin' with us, calling us names, saying they were gonna make all this money off us – then Donnie just snaps. He starts going off on the guy. Calling him stupid, saying it was no big mystery that they were gonna sell us to the Foot. He said they were gonna get ripped off, 'cause they were too dumb to negotiate. He laughed in the guy's face! I was like, Donnie, shut up, what are you doin'? But he just kept going. So the guy gets pissed and starts whaling on him, sayin' Don's not as smart as he thinks, that they've got lots of buyers – one's the Foot yeah, but another one was some dude who works for the government. A government dude who wanted to dissect us, and was putting up big money for it. That's how we found out we were going to Bishop."
"You know Don did that on purpose, right Mikey?" I said quietly.
"Yeah," he said. "I figured it out after. I still wish he hadn't done it, though." He closed his eyes, fighting back tears again. "It didn't do any good… they didn't say where they were taking us. I have no idea where Donnie is now."
I thought back again to that day in Don's lab, when he shared with me his theories on the invasion. "I think I know where he is," I said.
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It took me ten minutes to explain to Sensei how to take a picture and send it through the phone, but eventually I got what I wanted: the map hanging on Don's wall, and the red pin he'd stuck in it, signifying Bishop's supposed whereabouts. It was only forty miles north of where we'd picked up Mike and the coincidence was too great for me not to at least check it out.
I looked in on Mike one last time before I left. I didn't have to convince him to rest. I could tell he was fading out towards the end of our conversation and by the time I went to say goodbye, he was out cold. I pulled up his covers and watched him a moment. If for no other reason, I had to bring Don home for Mike's sake. He'd never be able to live with the guilt of leaving him behind.
"Keep him hydrated, and see if he'll eat anything the next time he wakes up," I said to April. "And try to take his temperature. He felt warm to me." I thanked her and headed for the door. "We'll return as soon as we can." She told me not to worry, she told us both to be careful, and we left; Casey in the driver's seat once again, me riding shotgun and mentally prepping myself for what I was going to find in Bishop's lab of horrors. To say I had a bad feeling about it would be the understatement of the century.
An hour and a half later, we pulled onto a dirt road northeast of Albany. We passed by several farms until I was sure we were close. I told Casey to kill the lights and take it slow. I pulled Don's thermal goggles, one of the many items I'd taken from his lab, and scanned the countryside. There, to the right and some ways away from the road we were on, I picked up several bodies, positioned high at the corners of a large property. No farm would employ nighttime guards. That had to be the place. I had Casey park the van and I took the rest of the way on foot.
Getting in was easy. Moving around inside was another story. I made it in through a ventilation shaft and crawled to the boiler room, where I dropped in and headed for the door. I peered into the hallway. There was a fixed camera at the end of the hall, making that way a no-go. I considered taking out the camera, but decided against it in the end. I wanted to stay under the radar, at least until I knew where they were keeping Don. It looked like the vents were my only choice. Getting through them wouldn't be too much of a problem; the trouble was, I didn't know where I was going. I could end up crawling around for hours, with no idea where I was. With a sigh, I lifted myself back into the vent. That's when something caught my eye – words, scrawled onto the metal inside: "boiler room," it said, and there was more. "Labs," with an arrow to the right and "security, cafeteria, 1st floor" with an arrow to the left. I stared at it stupidly for a second. Was I losing my mind, or had someone left me directions? I shrugged, assuming it must have been put there by the maintenance people who installed it. Of all the times I'd entered buildings this same way, it was first for me. If only they were all this easy.
Don was probably being held in the labs, but I decided to check out the security situation first. If I could disable the cameras, I might be able to move around more freely. I headed that way. I went into full stealth mode, moving as silently as possible. It took some time but I kept following the vent, sneaking a peek out of every grate to gauge my position. Before long I came across a small eating area and next to that, the security room. I followed the vent leading in and observed two guards sitting inside, watching dozens of screens. This was going to be easy. I reached inside a pack near my belt and pulled out a noisemaker, one of several little homemade flash-bangs I'd also picked up from Don's lab. I pulled the pin and chucked it all the way down the vent, in the direction of the cafeteria. I reached back and palmed a second one, waiting.
A second later there was a huge pop and the sound of metal denting. Right on cue, both guards shot to their feet and exited the room, heading in the direction of the noise. I tossed the second grenade in the same place and waited. When the second one went off, I kicked open the grate above the security room. The noise masked my entry perfectly and I slipped down inside, unnoticed. I immediately pressed myself against the wall next to the door, listening. I could hear their voices, discussing what could have caused the noise. After a few minutes I heard one stating that he was going to "call it in" and heard him coming back towards me. I kept perfectly still. He entered and went to the desk without so much as a glance in my direction. It always amazed me how often humans, especially those in guard positions, had such little developed senses. I was good at masking my own sounds, but still. Did these men not train for such things?
I came up behind him and slid an arm around his neck, locking my other arm behind his head in a classic choke hold. He struggled for less than a minute and went limp. Way too easy. I dragged him to a set of lockers in the corner and stuffed him inside, then waited by the door for the second guard to return.
The other guard went down as easily as the first. I hid his body as well, in case anyone should look in from the hallway. With that done, I scanned the monitors. I saw scientists and their assistants moving around but not much else. A few men in black suits, probably government officials, though there was no sign of Bishop himself. I saw a single man in a yellow radiation suit wandering around who seemed a little out of place but other than that, everything looked normal. No sign of Donnie, but the cameras only covered the larger rooms and connecting hallways. It was time to hit the labs and start searching.
I didn't know how long I had before someone noticed the missing guards so it didn't pay to waste any time. I moved quickly and quietly through the hallways, listening for activity. There weren't a lot of people here at this hour and that was another advantage. So far this operation was going like clockwork. I should have felt good about it, but the smoother things went, the more it ate away at me. Maybe it was the way Mikey described Don's condition, or the fact that I'd found no trace of him yet (I couldn't even be totally sure I was in the right place, after all) but I wasn't ready to breathe easy yet.
I made it to the lab area and began systematically searching each room, of which there were dozens, each filled with various scientific experiments. I saw everything from the benign (test tubes, chemicals, computers) to the creepy (genetically altered animals) to the incomprehensible (human experiments). The more I took in, the more I panicked. I had to find Donatello.
After searching a dozen or more rooms, I finally came to one that didn't look like much at first, but there was something inside that caught my attention. I stepped inside the tiny room, just large enough to house a single operating table, a sink and a few other odds and ends. My attention was on the table. It had restraints for hands and feet and the thing was absolutely doused in blood. I reached out and touched it, looking at the red on my fingers. Someone had bled here, and recently. That was when I began to take in the rest of my surroundings.
There were huge jars filled with different organs in formaldehyde, labeled accordingly and placed in rows. I couldn't read the labels from where I was standing. They looked like normal, human organs. They could have belonged to anyone. Unmistakable however, was what was sitting next to the jars. There, in a shallow, plastic tub sat the broken pieces of a very large turtle shell.
I froze, looking away. It couldn't be. This couldn't be right. I scanned the room again, looking a little longer at the jars, finally focusing on the shell again. It had the same markings, same geometric pattern on the back. I stepped towards it in a daze. With a shaky hand I reached out and felt along the outer ridge of the largest piece.
No mistake, it was one of ours.
There were footsteps outside in the distance and somewhere in my mind I heard them, only they didn't register. I bowed my head. I was too late. I was too late and Donnie… there wasn't even any way to carry his body home.
The footsteps became very close and the door opened suddenly. I slid back and crouched behind the operating table for cover, operating myself on instinct. It was the man in the yellow radiation suit, the one I'd seen on the monitors. He pressed himself up against the wall, listening for people outside; they were there, walking past, but again I hardly noticed. I stared at him. I couldn't make sense of this. As I watched, he removed the headpiece to his suit and exhaled, wiping at his brow.
I was sure I must be seeing things but there he was, in the flesh. "D-donnie?" I choked out.
The face behind the mask, green, wearing another mask, purple, turned and faced me in absolute shock. He blinked a few times and said, "Leo! What are you doing here?"
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"Donnie," I said again, as though I were trying to convince myself. "What – what is all this stuff?" I blurted out, gesturing towards the grotesque trophies in the corner.
He waved me off. "Oh, that? Something to do with a super-soldier program, I think. Bishop's been growing pieces of us ever since he got our DNA," he said, as though that weren't even the smallest bit surprising to him. "But how did you get here? I didn't think you would know where to find this place."
I didn't answer him. Instead I turned around and leaned back against the stainless steel of the table. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to convince my heart into slowing down a notch. I felt, just for a second, like I was in danger of blacking out.
"Leo? What's wrong?" He took a few steps towards me, until we were face to face.
I opened my eyes slowly and just stared at him, still not sure if this was real or some hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. He was still clothed in the suit but he looked okay – hardly the broken mess Mikey had made him out to be. There was extensive bruising to one side of his face and I could just pick up the faint whistle of a missing tooth when he talked, but that was all. If this was a hallucination then it was a somewhat convincing one, I thought.
He looked back over at the shelves and it clicked. "Oh! The body parts! So you thought -"
I wondered if I looked as weary as I felt. "Yeah, that's what I thought." I pushed off of the table and wrapped an arm around his neck, giving him a quick, but tight, hug.
He laughed a little and hugged me back. "I'm sorry Leo, I didn't realize. It's good to see you too." He slapped me on the arm. "You know, they tried to tell us you were dead but it was such an obvious lie. I never doubted it for a second. I told Mikey to find a phone and call you, first." He slapped his head, suddenly. "Mikey! Is he okay? Did he make it back alright?"
Hardly. I gave Don a brief account, that Mike was hurt but alive, at least. He'd been in and out of consciousness and I didn't really know if that was good or bad. Don seemed more concerned as I explained though, and that wasn't the best sign. I told him not to dwell on it, because we'd be back at the farmhouse in an hour or two and he'd be able to gauge Mike's condition for himself. All the more reason we should be pressing on, I said.
Right there, Don changed. As soon as I mentioned moving on, I saw him hesitate. "Leo, we can't leave yet."
I took a deep breath and braced myself. "Okay. Why?"
"The aliens aren't aliens." He smiled a little at me.
"They're mutants?" He nodded. "Grown by Bishop?" He nodded again. "For political purposes." At that point, he was looking far too pleased with himself. "And exactly how do you know all this?" I felt compelled to ask.
He grinned wide and held up a forearm. When he slid back his sleeve, I could see his arm was covered with what looked like charm bracelets. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they were actually black ties dangling with computer data sticks. "I've been sneaking around here for two days. I've got everything from the cause of the invasion to nuclear launch codes," he said, proudly giving them a little shake.
So that's what it was. Given the seriousness of the matter, I couldn't figure out why I kept sensing that Don seemed happy, in a strange way. Giddy, even. I thought it had more to do with our reunion, but it was all too obvious now. Our technogeek had been inside a government lab for days, breaking into top secret computers, stealing information and looking through files. It might as well have been a trip to Disneyland for him.
"I'll fill you in on all the details later," he said. "Right now, what you need to know is this: there's a kill switch for the whole operation. Remember what I said about the Hot Spot being a breeding colony? I was right, that's exactly where the hive is. But this was always a temporary operation, there was a fail-safe built right in! All I need is the code. Once we input that, it will release a chlorine-based gas into the chambers, killing the queens."
That was great news, but I wasn't sure about lingering there. I cut right to the chase. "Alright. What do we need to do?"
He explained. "The code is locked down in a room on the far end. I haven't been able to access it for a few reasons." He started ticking them off on his fingers. "One, the vents don't lead inside. Two, it requires a retinal scan to enter. And three, it's under camera surveillance, watched by live guards." He pulled at the yellow fabric on his chest. "This suit is fine for getting around the labs, but it won't fly in the upper-level security zones."
"The cameras won't be a problem, I took out the guards already," I told him.
"You… took them out?" he asked. I nodded. He got quiet all of the sudden. "Oh."
"What's the matter?"
He looked away, embarrassed. "Nothing. It's just that… well, I don't think these guys really know what they're guarding, Leo. They're just doing a job. That's why I didn't… 'take them out' myself."
Donnie the pacifist ninja. It wasn't really true; Don did what he had to do when the need arose. He just had a slightly tighter moral compass than the rest of us. Raph got on his case little too much about it though.
I was a little offended that he thought I'd just cut down a couple of grunts without provocation, though. "I didn't say I killed them," I said. He looked at me, confused. "Sleeper hold, Don. I just knocked them out. Also, I had a little help getting their attention." I patted the small satchel at my hip, one I knew he'd recognize as his light grenade pack.
"Oh! Good, I'm glad you found my latest batch. Okay." He chewed his lip. "Well in that case, I wonder if security is granted retinal access?"
"I don't know, but whatever we do, we need to do it quick. There's no telling how long they're going to be out."
We hurried towards the guard station. Once inside, I went to the lockers and pulled out the smaller of the two guards. He moaned a little as I moved him. "See?" I said. "Still alive." Don grinned. I lifted the man over my shoulder. "Let's do it."
"Wait. There's one more thing."
I gave him an evil stare. "What now?"
"We need to destroy the recorded video logs," he said, going to the monitors. "I don't want them to know what I took. Better they don't know we entered that room at all."
I didn't know why that mattered so much, but I figured Don had his reasons. "Alright, so we need erase the tapes, is what you're saying?"
He rolled his eyes. "Tapes? Really Leo? What is this, 1984?" He tapped around on the keyboards there. "I'm afraid deleting the data won't be enough, they might be able to recover it. We need to physically destroy these hard drives." He reached under the desk and started ripping equipment out of the walls. Screens started to go dark all over the room. When he was finished, there was a sizable pile of electronics left over. I went for my sword and he made a tsk sound. "That's not going to work," he said. He grabbed the satchel I was wearing and started rooting around inside. "Come on, come on… yes! C4! This should do the trick. Help me pry off these casings."
I did as he instructed. He circled the open guts of the boxes around the little grey block of clay. When he was satisfied, he said, "Okay, let's go. This is going bring some attention, so we'll blow it on the way out."
I hoisted the unconscious guard once again. "Lead the way," I said.
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We were in luck. Don peeled back the man's eyelids while I held him up. A quick scan and the door clicked open.
"Yes!" Don exclaimed. "Okay, give me a minute." He went to the main console and started working his magic. "This is going to be encrypted," he explained, "but, I already located the key. Found a copy of it on some lab assistant's personal drive. Can you believe that? Amazing what some of these amateurs won't stoop to stealing."
"Yeah, it's something else," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
He pulled one of the data sticks from his wrist and plugged it in. "Okay. Now we let it do its thing. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
Something had been on my mind for a while now, and it seemed a good time to ask. "Don, are you okay? I mean, you're not hurt or anything? I think I found one of your teeth."
"Oh, yeah. The Dragons knocked it out. Truth is, it's been loose since I got smacked in the face with that hammer back in October." He shuddered, remembering. "My mouth was so swollen I was on liquids for a week. You try to help one old lady across the street..." He shook his head.
I laughed a little. "You really need to learn how to pick out the crazies better, Don." Something was still bothering me, though. "The way Mikey was talking, I expected to find you beaten to a pulp." Maybe Mike had been more out of it than I thought.
He cringed, looking caught. Oh, now I got it. "You were faking it," I said.
He shrugged. "Hey, it worked. You wouldn't believe how they lowered their guard around me. It was embarrassing. As soon as they brought me here I overwhelmed them and 'escaped.' Or so they think."
"You sent Mike off and didn't escape on purpose. You wanted to come here." I crossed my arms and glared at him.
"I was going to go with him, I swear! At the last minute I decided to chance it. I know, it was risky-"
"Risky doesn't even begin to describe it!" I was livid. Don was usually so level-headed. I couldn't believe he'd so readily put himself in danger like this. "And while you've been here playing around with computers, Mikey's been bleeding to death, Raph's still out there somewhere, and I'm worrying myself into an early grave. So is Sensei," I added. "Why would you do this!"
"Because I'm sick of it, Leo!" he snapped. "I'm sick of fighting them! I'm sick of the destruction, the death – and it's getting worse every day! They're spreading – I know it, you know it – the question is, if this was a temporary operation, why haven't they pulled the plug on it? From a political standpoint it's already served its purpose, so why is it getting worse?" He slumped back into the chair. "I saw an opportunity to get in here and find the truth. I'm sorry." He suddenly looked very tired. "I just want this war to end."
There had been a lot of civilian casualties. I knew Don was taking it harder than the others. He'd been losing sleep for months, trying to get to the root of the cause. I stared at him for a few seconds. "Alright I understand," I conceded. "Just – don't do anything like this again. Next time, you come home first, and we do this together." He nodded and apologized again.
"Just one more thing," I said. "Why didn't you let Mikey in on it? He was really upset about you, you know. He's even been talking about you in his sleep."
That got him, I could tell. "We were under constant surveillance. They had a camera on us, in the truck." I gave him a skeptical look. "I tried, okay! I tried a couple of times to tell Mikey that I was fine, that I wasn't hurt – he just thought I was being brave, or something. And then he would try to comfort me…" He groaned and covered his face. "It's like trying to drill through solid titanium sometimes." He stared off into the computer screen. "I never should have separated us. I thought I was doing the right thing, by getting him out of danger."
"What happened to Mikey isn't your fault," I said. "Besides, I wouldn't have known to come here, if he hadn't told me. And I think I'm right in assuming that you wouldn't have left until you got this code." His expression said I was right. "It was a tough call."
He seemed to accept that. I told him he could make it up to Mike when we got back, starting with getting that bullet out of him. Shortly after that, Don finished up on the computer and we headed out, back towards the security room in order to blow the C4. The explosion would no doubt bring more guards right to our position, so it was back to the vents for us. When we were in, I mentioned heading towards the boiler room, which was the closest point to our exit.
"One second." Don pulled a small keychain flashlight from his pocket and used it to light up the wall inside the vent. Right away I saw the writing there.
It hit me. "You wrote the notes inside the vents, didn't you?"
"Of course!" he said. "You didn't think I'd just keep crawling around in circles here, did you?" He laughed. "Come on, boiler room is this way."
When we were out of the blast range, he pulled out the detonator and told me to cover my ears. The explosion was much larger than I expected and the fallout was staggering, considering how freely we'd been walking around this place. Alarms went off immediately. We heard the sound of men running through the halls, shouting. Outside, things were even worse. Trucks were circling the grounds and searchlights shone from the towers at each of the four corners of the yard. Still, it was dark and we were careful.
When we got back to van, I was actually feeling pretty good. I'd found Don, and he was fine. On top of that, we had something that might even stop the invasion. Despite my misgivings about him taking the initiative on this one, I couldn't deny that everything had come out alright in the end. I still had Raph on my mind, but after finding the other two I was starting to feel hopeful again.
We slid open the door and jumped inside. "Hey," I said to Casey. "Look who I found."
"'Eyyy, Donnie!" He swung around and high-fived him. "Good to have ya back, man."
I slid back into my place in the passenger seat, ready to relate our adventure to our vigilante friend. When I turned to him though, he was just sitting, staring forward with both hands on the wheel. The look on his face said something was wrong. "Casey? What is it?" I asked.
He sighed, throwing the van into drive. "Just got a call from April. Mikey's not doin' so good."
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A/N - 1984 was a good year, no? ;)
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