Jazz was experiencing another moment in time that felt so unrealistic, she caught herself blinking rapidly several times. Did I have a temporary lapse in sanity? Why did I agree to this deal? I feel like I'm about to walk onto the set of "Silence of the Lambs." She scanned the Slider to look at the other faces surrounding her. I'm lost inside a sea of males – my specialty, she thought sarcastically.

She barely looked at Brandon. He'd kept to himself for the remainder of the night before, and hadn't so much as made eye contact with her since. Jazz focused much longer on the orange-masked turtle, who was expertly guiding the strange vessel as if he'd done it a million times.

Is it possible that I'm having some mental break from reality? I don't understand how something this huge remains hidden, especially if they're running around on the streets. A jolt of sudden panic ran through her mind. Maybe this is how it stays hidden. Maybe they're getting rid of me, and I'm heading right into a deathtrap! Jazz contemplated the possibility. It doesn't feel like that's what this is though. They don't need to take me underground to kill me after all. Jazz shivered involuntarily.

"You're going to be all right," Marcus said suddenly.

Jazz looked at the soft-spoken man.

"All of us have experienced some trepidation on our first trip down here. I almost hyperventilated," he offered.

She managed a small smile. "When did you stop asking yourself if everything was real?"

"About a month ago," he quipped, and chuckled. "You'll get there. The more time you spend around the guys, the more you'll realize that they're not so different from us."

"It's not just the turtles," she replied. "It's the gang, the plots, and this psycho Asian dude who broke out of Prison. This kind of thing doesn't happen in everyday life."

"Yes it does," Greg replied. "Most people just don't know about it. There's always more going on underneath the calm façade than you usually get to see."

Jazz's eyebrows rose. "I guess that's true. What does the average person even know about how our military operates in foreign countries? You can see pictures from the Media, but they don't tell the real stories of the horrors they experience." It's no wonder some of them come back changed, she added inwardly, with a powerful wave of sadness.

Jazz ducked her head close to her chest and took a deep breath to control her emotions. Fortunately no one seemed to notice in the semi-darkness.

"Our place ain't so bad," Mike called from the control panel. "We'll keep you safe and entertained. Just ask any of our friends."

"This is true," Tim spoke up. "I can't recall being bored where this family is concerned."

"How much further?" Jazz asked the turtle.

"It's not far," he replied. "Nothing to worry about. Don't forget that we're the good guys. We've got some killer video games too."

Jazz shook her head. They are so strange. To look at them, you'd imagine they were the most dangerous creatures that ever walked the streets. But to hear him talk, this is like some extended slumber party. Am I going to be able to leave after I see this place? Jazz swallowed and took a couple of deep breathes. Now stop it. You're being ridiculous. Their friends know the whole story, and they're free to come and go as they please. I just need to convince them that I'm not any threat to their security.

She stole another glance at Brandon, and noticed that his rigid posture had relaxed somewhat. He feels safer here. It's got to be okay, or he wouldn't be able to handle it so calmly.

Jazz's heart skipped as she felt the Slider slowing down. The turtle was the first one to leap off the vessel onto the concrete side. She found a couple of the other men looking at her expectantly, like they wanted her to go next. Mike held out his hand to her, and she took it more willingly than the last time he'd offered.

"Um…this looks like a dead end," she mentioned.

Michelangelo laughed. "It looks like one, sure. We can't have visitors just strolling on up to our home. We like our privacy, and our fans tend to get a little nutty from time to time." The turtle winked at her.

Jazz cocked her head curiously. She wasn't sure how seriously to take the turtle, but it sounded like he was joking. The young woman held her breath as he opened the door that hadn't existed a few seconds before.

"C'mon in," he invited her casually, as if there was nothing strange about any of the circumstances.

She let out the breath she'd been holding as she laid eyes on the interior…which appeared to be a perfectly comfortable living space by most anyone's standards. Jazz looked around for the other turtles, but her eyes widened when she found three women sitting down instead.

Jazz recognized the Asian woman from the Travel Agency the night before, but the other two were unfamiliar. She didn't particularly mind that they were strangers; she was simply relieved not to be the only female inside the testosterone-laden group. The youngest of the three women gazed at Jazz with clear apprehension in her light blue eyes.

"Hey, ladies," Mike said affectionately. "Make room for a new friend; this is Jazz." He turned to face her. "This is Jenna, Sayuri, and Katherine," he introduced in turn.

"Hello." When the raven-haired woman spoke, Jazz detected her Australian accent. "Welcome to our home," she said guardedly.

Jazz squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly experiencing the familiar sensation of being naked in the middle of the room with everyone watching her. Mike took her lightly by the arm and led her to a chair.

"Take a load off, Jazz. It's all right. You're surrounded by a bunch of people you don't know, but they're all cool."

As the men filtered through the room, Jazz was surprised to hear Brandon speak something that sounded like Spanish. The bronze-haired woman responded, and Jazz immediately connected the pair. They've got to be related. They speak Spanish, that girl is Australian, and then there's the Asian chick…I feel like I just signed on to the United Nations.

"You don't have to be afraid of us, not so long as you know how to keep your mouth shut," Jenna told her in what almost seemed to be a friendly overture.

I think I've entered the Paranoia Capital of the world. Why did I agree to come down here?

"I'm not a threat to any of you," Jazz stated. "As a matter-of-fact, your people are the ones who got me into trouble."

"I've apologized as many ways as I know how," Greg called helplessly.

"I'm only trying to put things back in perspective," Jazz clarified. "So we're straight, I didn't do anything. I'm only here because I got dragged into this."

Before anyone else could speak, a door to an adjoining room opened.

"Hi, Jazz," Leonardo greeted her. "Welcome."

She shrugged her shoulders at his words. It doesn't really feel like it, but we'll see what happens.

"Our other brother would like to meet you," Leonardo said.

If it gets me out of this room, I'm game. "Where is he?" she asked.

"You're going to have to come to him," the blue-masked turtle answered. "He isn't mobile right now."

Jazz nodded and gratefully followed Leonardo into the next room. Her jaw dropped when she saw the interior, and for a few moments, she couldn't move. Her grey eyes drank in every technical detail of the space, from expensive-looking mounted monitors, to interesting devices that she couldn't even identify.

The young woman heard a chuckle to her right, and caught Leonardo's smile. It was an odd sight on the face of the serious warrior from the night before.

"This is Don's Lab," he explained.

"He built it?"

"I had some help," a second voice addressed her.

Jazz tore herself away from the machinery long enough to realize that there was another turtle in the room, sitting up in what appeared to be a hospital bed. "Those are your computers?"

"Yeah; I modified the factory models. I'm not really into the mass-produced cookie-cutter style machines."

Jazz gazed at the purple-masked turtle a moment longer, and returned to looking around the room. "This is…way more than I expected to see down here."

"There's often a lot more to things than immediately meets the eye," Donny said. "Why don't you sit down?" He motioned to a nearby desk chair.

"You're going to be okay, Don?" Leonardo asked from the door.

"We'll be fine," the other turtle said calmly.

Jazz lowered into the desk chair. "So you're Donny."

"Mmhm. You like computers, huh?"

"Sure. They're cool," she said vaguely, as if she could take them or leave them.

"I like them too," he replied, and she sensed there was a veiled meaning behind his tone. "I'm self-taught, of course. It was mostly trial and error in the beginning, until I could get access to the Internet."

"How do you maintain a decent signal down here?"

"I designed a device that boosts the normal output. It's effective."

"Do you have some kind of specialty?" she asked cautiously.

"No…not really. I'm interested in a lot of things. What about you?" he asked pointedly. "What did you study at MIT?"

He knows all about my record, she realized at once. "I was into programming," Jazz said stiffly.

"What about in private?"

"You know all about Daystar, don't you?" Jazz got to her feet. "My whole story is already recorded. Why do you need to hear it from me?"

"Computers don't tell stories – people do. Only you can fill in between the lines and provide the motivation. That's what I really want to hear, Jazz. Why Daystar?"

"Why does it matter?" she demanded. "I broke the law, I was punished, and I'm still being punished."

"I think the reason that you have for doing something matters."

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me," he challenged. "Sit down. I don't want to judge you. I'm just trying to find out where you were coming from."

Jazz hesitated for a minute. She had no desire to run through the same story that had been discounted by so many individuals that she was tempted to doubt it herself.

"Jazz, we've made ourselves completely vulnerable to you," Donatello said. "All I'm asking for is a little understanding into your actions."

The young woman looked down at the floor, cursing under her breath. She shrugged her shoulders as she began telling the story yet again. "My second year at MIT, I met someone. He was brilliant, intriguing…and a little dark. Completely different from any guy I'd ever been involved with. He introduced me to the world outside MIT, where the rules were different. It was the first experience I'd ever had with bona-fide crackers."

Donatello nodded as if he understood, but she still felt like she needed to explain.

"You may know that there's a difference between hackers and crackers—"

"I do," he said swiftly. "The Media has popularized the 'hacker' term, but 'cracker' is more correct when it comes to illegal territory. Go on."

"I knew that the group engaged in activities that I didn't need to be a part of. But I fit in with those people like I was made to be there, and I couldn't remember ever feeling that comfortable in my own skin. I didn't think anything they were doing was truly detrimental, so I compromised.

"I hung out with them for several weeks before I began doing any of the cracking. I didn't think I'd be any good right off the bat, but my guy pushed me. The first time I got past a firewall, it was the biggest rush…and I just wanted to do it again. I had several 'projects' over a couple of months, which never involved doing anything really malicious. I wasn't destroying anything. I enjoyed the freedom of trespassing and going places where I wasn't supposed to be.

"Things got pretty competitive with the other crackers after a while, and one of them issued me a personal challenge. Daystar Information Systems." Jazz couldn't quite meet the turtle's brown eyes. "It was only a game to me. I took the challenge, even though I wasn't sure I'd be able to crack them. Their gatekeeper was supposed to be really impressive, but I went for it, and it ended up being outdated.

"I did my part of getting in, and suddenly, my guy took over. It happened so fast, and I had no clue what he was doing. All I did was sit back and watch him sift through information so quickly it made me feel dizzy. I was a bystander at that point, but I knew something was off. It didn't feel like a game anymore. The entire atmosphere changed, and it was one of the most awful feelings I've ever had.

"I told myself it was time to walk away, but I didn't leave. About…an hour after I cracked Daystar, the cops showed up. I've never been able to figure out how they traced me, let alone that quickly. My signal was being routed through Asia—"

"Even an outdated gatekeeper can have its secrets," he interjected.

"You know something about Labyrinth?"

"It doesn't matter right now," he replied. "So the cops showed up."

"Yeah. They confiscated all the computers, and took the five of us into custody. They narrowed the break-in down to my computer, which, once again…I don't know how. I used the best safeguards. They shouldn't have been able to connect it to the crime. To make matters worse, they found discs with stolen technology in my purse."

"And you had no idea how they got there?"

"No, I know how they ended up there. That was the moment the light bulb went off in my head, and I realized that I was being set up to take the fault for everything. I took the fall for Daystar by myself, and all my supposed friends were never charged with a single crime after agreeing to testify against me.

"My motivation was nothing but pride, Donny. I'm guilty of many things, but I was never a thief," she finished with irritation. The turtle's gaze felt as if it was sharp enough to drill right through her, but she refused to look away.

"They used you," he said at last.

"Like the sucker I am," she said bitterly. "And I got to be made an example of for everyone else."

Donatello's eyes softened. "There's more than meets the eye with you too, Jazz."

"That appears to be the theme today."