I do not own the TMNT or related themes and characters.

K is mine.

Chapter Eighteen; Think Tank

The damage was narrow, but deep. There was only one possible solution.

"You put your sais through the speakers, again." K accused. She leaned against the hotel desk and glared at Raphael.

Raph scratched his cheek thoughtfully with a fork, "Now how would Don put it? Right. 'I determined that the speakers were not conclusive to the stealthy atmosphere I prefer'." Other than spending the last thirty hours with a mostly unconscious or ravenously hungry Michelangelo, K had never met any of the other turtles. However, from what she had been told about Leonardo and Donatello she suspected they would crack up at hearing the thick Brooklyn accent stumble in its attempt to sound like Donatello.

"Eat your food." K admonished as she turned back to the helmet. It wasn't that she didn't have a spare in the hotel room, but with most of her supplies incinerated at the warehouse she didn't want to waste anything.

Especially not with the two turtle brothers having eaten a month's pay in food over the last couple of days alone.

Raphael had been in a much better mood than K had seen him in…ever. He didn't object when she told him to get some sleep. When he had woken up he had checked on his brother before accepting a bowl of oatmeal. Raph hadn't even made his usual comments about oatmeal being wet cardboard. Now he was finishing off a salad –again, without the usual derisive comments- and explaining to K everything he knew about the situation involving Peter and his father.

"Yaqan Salim Rabb" K repeated thoughtfully.

"That's what the guy said…as best I can remember it anyway." Raph agreed.

"Yaqan salim rabb." K murmured the words to herself as she opened the laptop resting on the hotel desk, "Arabic maybe? Or perhaps…" She started typing rapidly.

Raphael idly watched her as she typed, mentally comparing her speed to Donnie's. He had decided months ago that while Donnie's typing was scary fast, K was much worse. Maybe it had something to do with Donnie always calling himself an engineer while this human just said she was into computers. Sure she tinkered and came up with some pretty cool stuff, but her creations weren't anywhere near as cool as what Donnie had been turning out in his free time. She did have a knack for getting things she shouldn't have been able to get; such as extremely classified information, rare supplies, discontinued parts, and non-delivery meals delivered hot and fresh to the most dangerous parts of New York.

"I think I have it." K spoke up, "Yaqin Salim Rabb. Roughly it translates into 'Confidently Aiding the Master'. Although little is known about this group it appears to be based out of Afghanistan. For the most part this group is considered an annoyance despite the fact that it has been known to supply weapons and supplies to more dangerous organizations."

Raph put his plate down and moved to get a better look at the screen. There was an official looking seal, some photos, and a lot of words that he didn't bother to read. "That's all you can find out about these guys?" He asked.

"Yep." K nodded and started to back out of the various programs she'd been using. "I can make some educated guesses about what they are doing in New York, but this is the only concrete evidence I can find."

"So," Raph tossed his plate across the room. It bumped against a far wall before falling into a waste basket. He then reached for a hamburger. "So these Arab guys are takin' weapons from the Dragons and given them to the bad guys back home." Raph guessed before taking a bite out of the burger. Almost a third of the burger was taken in that one bite. K wondered how the turtles' rat father had managed to feed them after major fights or battles without a steady income.

"Not quite. The C4 planted in the warehouse was wrapped in plastic." K explained.

"Yeah? And?" Raph asked.

"C4 producers in the United States package the explosive in metal casings. Foreign companies just use plastic or cloth. The bombs used on the warehouse were foreign." K explained.

Raph considered, "So if the Dragons are getting' weapons from the Arab guys… what are the Arabs gettin'?"

K held out her hands in a 'I got nothing' gesture, "Money? Services? The Purple Dragon could be up to anything." She leaned forward in the desk chair, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palm. "The most immediate problem remains with Peter and his father."

"I have an idea about that, but I'm gonna need a little help." Raph was loath to ask for K's help in anything beyond the motorcycle or information he might need, but K had proven pretty handy in tight spots before; such as at the Chief N' Beef earlier.

Unfortunately K seemed to read his mind and shook her head. "Sorry Brooklyn. All my weapons and gear were destroyed in the warehouse, save for my TAZER rifle, and I used all my cartridges up getting your shell out of there intact."

Raph grunted and sat back in the chair he had pulled up beside the bed. "In that case there ain't much I can do."

"There is someone else you could get help from." K suggested tactfully.

Another grunt, "Who?" Raphael noticed K's gaze had shifted and followed it to the bed. "Oh no! I can't ask him, he's been shot!"

K lifted her eyebrows, "He is healing rapidly and he is a great deal more rested at the moment than you are."

"Two days sleep after a gunshot ain't enough!" Raph insisted.

"No, it is not. But how much better would it be to leave a young boy in the care of the Purple Dragon for two days?" K retorted. "Do not forget, Raphael, you yourself have insisted on returning to the streets shortly after getting shot! Is he no better a ninja than you are?" She had dropped her hands and by now was sitting up.

"Now don't you get started on that Battle Nexus thing, too!" Raph growled.

K smirked, sitting back almost triumphantly in her seat. "I did not bring that up."

Raphael's reply was cut off by a groan from the bed and some sleepy words from his brother. K reached across the desk and picked up the spare helmet before tossing it to Raph. "You know he can help you. Right now the only question that remains is whether or not to put the helmet on before he wakes up and sees you."

Her wit was rewarded with a dark scowl and Raph moved to put the helmet on, then hesitated.

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