Here is part two of what was suppose to be just a oneshot. You folks have 26+ chigger bites to thank for getting the chapter out this soon, I would distract myself from the itching by working on sewing this part together. Did I mention itching? Lots and lots of itching? In other news, I've been teaching my computer's dictionary words like Technodrome, Kraang and such. Also, there will apparently be a part three. x.x

Enjoy! I hope you get a smile or a laugh out of this and your day becomes a little more bearable, if not brighter.

"Channel 6 News, Irma."

Shredder sighed, glancing down at the dialpad. Two months later and he was still accidentally calling Channel 6 once a week. He stopped being surprised and decided to see it as some strange ninja verbal training. Though sometimes, even if he knew better, he suspected that someone had programmed the speed-dial with Channel 6's number.

At least he now had a face to go with the name.

"Irma," he greeted. "What a surprise."

"Oh, my mystery caller..." Her voice was limp, lacking its usual touch of irony. When she didn't say anything else, Shredder spoke up hesitantly.

"I'm afraid I called you by mistake."

"Of course," she sniffed. "I'm silly for thinking anyone would call me on purpose."

"What-?" Shredder blinked, a bit stunned at the self loathing he was hearing. Where had all that come from? Usually she was more than happy to declare the coincidence as destiny - in fact, why wasn't she demanding any dinner dates already; she rarely waited the polite limit of thirty seconds before bringing it up.

Wait. Shredder narrowed his eyes as he heard another barely muffled sniff. Was she... crying?

Curiosity flickered to life. Sure, he was Shredder; the one and only ruthless and devious ninja. That was never in question. But Irma wasn't part of his plans at the moment, if she had ever been on his previous, uh, "visits" to the Channel 6 tower. At the most she was annoyingly clumsy, though Shredder figured there was a dragon sitting on her shoulders to give her the luck of stomping on toes - both figuratively and literally - at the most inopportune times. But an enemy? On the same level as the Turtles or even that accursed April O'Neil?

Not even close. So his curiosity was perfectly legit and even safe. After all, a ninja had many skills that he needed to keep sharp.

"Irma," he paused and hazard a guess. "Did you fall again?"

She laughed. "You could say that."

"Where did you hurt yourself?" he barely managed to stop himself from saying "this time".

"My heart." She hiccuped. "Hey, mystery caller, can I ask you something?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You always do."

"Well, I know this is a silly question considering you've never seen me - well, not that I know, you might have because you've never told me your name so how would I know if I've seen you or not-"

He grabbed his forehead, bit his tongue, reined in the surge of irritation at her ramblings and told her through clenched teeth. "Irma, that is not a question."

"What? Oh right, my question. Am I so fat I'm not attractive?"

He let his head slip from his hand and thump on his desk. Why him? Why didn't he back out when he had an opening? He was the leader of the feared Foot Clan, not some... some emotional therapist! And yet he found himself opening his mouth and saying. "Why would you even think that about yourself?"

"Well, I know I don't always eat the best - everyone says salad's the best but I can only eat greens for a week before I'm starving for some pork and eggs. And don't even mention ice cream, especially the ones made by that parlor-"

Shredder sat back in his seat properly, rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and tuned her out. Oh sure, he would have stopped her if he thought he could. But all the previous times his efforts in that direction had only made the conversations twice as long - plus the dangers of suddenly finding himself on some subject that was totally unrelated. And sure, he could just hang up on her, but then what else would he do the rest of the evening? Krang had left on some random chase of energy readings, taking Bebop and Rocksteady with him so there was no one to order around. Any important paperwork had already been done, and he'd already spent two hours staring at a map of New York City, trying to deduce where the Turtles' base was. Actually, now that he thought about it, who had he been trying to call?

Shredder blinked and shook his head, focusing back on Irma's voice.

"And so after I finally fixed the paper jam, fixed his accounting error, and got his documents copied and sorted to the right departments, Vernon said that my ability to do low class work was the only special thing about me, otherwise I'd get too fat to move from behind the desk, and, and," here Irma started hiccuping again. "He said that right as I was asking Deyvon out and I just know he was about to say yes until Vernon said that."

"Vernon?" He asked sharply. "Called you low class?"

"Well, no... not, uh, exactly." Irma hemmed despite the undertone of agreement Shredder could hear in her voice. "He just said I did low class work."

"Close enough." Shredder growled, silently cursing to himself. "The little rat."

Vernon reminded Shredder of the old Japanese paintings of Europeans - big nose, thin lips, and beady eyes. His craving for glory coupled with a lack of any backbone made him a wonderful hostage and messenger boy for Shredder. It was that same trait that had Shredder unknowingly agreeing with the Turtles - Vernon was a rat. Leave it to him to sink to such insults.

"Well, maybe he's right, you know," Irma sighed. "What good am I?"

"What?" Anger rose in Shredder fast, sharp and hot. He never let them define him, never allowed them to shove his life into a predetermined box. He slammed a fist down on the desk and snarled. "And why do you think that?"

"Well, because Deyvon told me he was too busy for me. He wouldn't have said no if what Vernon said was untrue."

"Coward." Shredder snorted in derision. "Shows what they know! Why, you'd probably make a perfect secret agent."

It was true, Shredder didn't lie - well, not often, unless your name was Krang. Or Hamato Yoshi. Or any of the Turtles. Or - Shredder decided it was in his best interest to drop the train of thought. The point was, no one ever suspected the clumsy ones. And there was the issue of a dragon sitting on her shoulders. One would have to be a fool to pass up that type of luck.

"Like James Bond?" Irma asked after a second of stunned silence.

"Er, I was thinking more on the lines of," ninja, he almost said, correcting himself at the last moment. "Pinkerton."

"Pinkerton!" he could almost hear her mind changing gears. "Really? Why? I mean I can barely run down the block and-"

He cut her off, wincing at his own rudeness. But he had had all the rambling he could take for the day. "You know your numbers, you know how accounting works. Just follow the money trail and you can snap them in a trap of their own making."

"Hey, are you a secret ag-" Irma started to ask but the background of the newsroom was interrupted by a yell, the words not quite making it through the phone connection. Irma sighed. "I gotta go, mystery caller. I think Vernon got his tie stuck in the copier. Thanks for the chat!"

He pulled the phone away from his ear as the sharp click signaled the end of the connection, scowling darkly at the device. How did he end up trying to cheer someone up - Irma Langinstein of all people? It wasn't like she had any charm or he was starting to actually like talking to her-

Shredder slammed the phone down on the cradle and added one more person to the list of people he lied to. Himself.

The phone rang as soon as he set it down. For a second he blinked in surprise at it. It couldn't be-? No, not even a dragon could provide the luck! He snatched it up. "What?"

"Finally!" Krang's slurpy voice came over the phone. "Do you know how many quarters I've used up on this payphone? You humans and your stupid communication devices, don't even have call waiting service! Who were you talking to anyway, your girlfriend?"

For the second time Shredder's anger flared and a small part of him was surprised at his reaction to such a casual jab.

"You have something to say, Krang?" he snarled, his chair clattering to the floor behind him as he jumped to his feet. "Come and say it to my face, you miserable excuse of a jelly brain!"

"My, my, no need to sprain your mouth trying to be insulting." Krang bit back. "Of course, if you didn't want to know that I've found an excellent source of energy for the TechnoDrome, you just had to say."

"Energy source?" With difficulty Shredder reined in his anger. It wasn't like Kraang never said anything true and at the moment he needed the alien's ability to find and utilize energy. "Took you long enough! Why are you calling me instead of getting it to the TechnoDrome?"

"Because, you thick headed mammal," Krang slurped. "I'm going to have to break some things to get it and I need you to do the only thing you're good at. Distract the Turtles."

"Oh really?" Shredder grinned, his irritation sweeping away at the sudden plotting in his head. "Send Bebop and Rocksteady back to me. I have just the place to make our little distraction."

Edit June 18, 2015: Corrected Kraang (2012 spelling) to Krang (1980's spelling).