A/N: Second chapter for this week, like I said. :P

D: Hey! Long time no review. I missed ya! Now let's see... ;)
Splinter comment - yes, I loved writing it too, despite the circumstances. Splinter is just...well, love!
In regards to Hugh, I'm glad you think so. It only felt natural to include his troubles, and he'll be tried more and more through the coming chapters.
Don't worry; there's a REASON for Starberry's name. You get some insight about it in Chapter 31. Then a real explanation...at some point. Can't recall. XD
Wish granted - you'll see Raph's, Mike's, and April's reactions in the last scene. :P

Sciencegal - I really is. ROFL. Don't get me started on Gavin. *twitch*

WOLF - I have a name picked, yes. We don't get it for a bit, though. And yes, my chocolate was amazing. ;)

Chapter 20: Reboot

Bishop peered through the blue-tinted window of a sleek Stasis Pod. The container was far from special or unique; there were at least a dozen like it mounted along the same Chamber wall. However, its single occupant was a reminder of his visit.

'To think something so small could toss cars like she did,' the agent thought, eyeing the graceful yet marred features of the redhead within. 'Amanda Hall…your pure determination for power is a drive I can use at a later date. If my acts go accordingly, that is.'

"Agent Bishop."

Bishop smiled at the displeased voice. "Stockman. Long time no see."

"Cut the pleasantries. You know neither of us care for them."

Even so, the EPF leader maintained his grin when he rotated to meet the sour-faced African-American. "You have good news, I trust."

Stockman pinched the bridge of his large nose, sighing. "What I wouldn't do to go back to working with Doctor Gaertner."

"Bio-cybernetics is your specialty, Stockman. I could think of no other to assign the task. Save for Marx or perhaps Jensen. However, they are otherwise occupied."

"Marx's missing. Probably dead."

"So you see my dilemma."

"Sir"—the doctor dug his hands into his lap coat's deep pockets—"what you require is akin to Gaertner waking Misses Anders from her coma."

"So you were unsuccessful?" While the smile remained, Bishop released every ounce of bitterness into it, and the second male shuffled from one boot to another.

"Of course not. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"Then what is the issue?"

"I can't guarantee he's fool-proof like Biosvert's…creatures. A human brain is much more complicated to wire."

"You did have the benefit of a test subject. The Hispanic."

"The crude one who calls himself Rojo? Right. But I didn't get to keep him long before Yahna got his hands on him."

"Yahna needed him for a special project. Besides, I had given you more than enough time."

"Says you."

Bishop's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, daring Stockman to take another step forward in the Chamber.

Wisely, the subordinate backed down by ducking his head and glancing towards the glowing Stasis Pods. "He's been rebooted, and no longer responds to the alias Hunt. For now."

"And the improvements I asked for?"

"Are in the works. A dry run will be required before he's ready for…employment. Must say, you're setting an odd stage, Sir."

Bishop chuckled. "Act One's not over yet, but the increased calls of strange activity has been pleasing."

"If they're Act One, is Hunt Act Two?"

"Depends on where his progress stands at that point. And call him Agent Zero from now on."

Stockman shrugged, nearing the Pods to peer inside their windows. "Not like I care about any of these peoples' names. Do you really plan to convert them all?"

"If we create a demand, we must prepare with the supply."

"Thought that's what the open admissions were all about."

"My new roaster of employees is mainly for show."

"What a surprise."

"But speaking of them"—Bishop glanced towards the Chamber's open exit—"I should make an appearance at the academy. There is one man named Kyle Erlich that seems desperate to help, especially with the Hub attacks."

"An outraged fan?" Stockman asked with a snigger.

"Or more. It is too early for assumptions, though he could provide the connection I need to Precinct Nineteen."

"Would he turn against the NYPD?"

Chin raised, Bishop made slow strides past Stockman. "Possibly. One way or another. Meanwhile, your updates should be more frequent."

"Understood," Stockman replied like a disgruntled teenager.

He said nothing else as his leader headed for the hall, and seeing as how Bishop lacked a reason for parting words, he simply waved before the Chamber's doors slid shut behind him.

Donatello winced when Melody inhaled. It was a sharp hiss through the otherwise silent Lab, and though the thick Polysporin he spread with his fingers must've irritated the blisters on Mel's bare back, they needed treated. So, biting his lip, he continued to apply the ointment across the bubbled burns at the base of her neck and along the backside of her left bicep. The cyborg released a shuddering breath when he pulled away yet still refused to speak.

"You know," Don started as he wiped his hands clean with a washcloth, "I'm happy you and Raph are doing more things together. But if he brings you home like this again, I'll punch him."

"They are minor wounds," Melody retorted, reaching for her discarded shirt.

The purple-masked mutant was quick to capture her robotic hand and pin it against the steel tabletop she sat on. "I'm serious, Melody," he said in an undertone.

"As am I."

"This isn't a paper cut or a scrape. These burns could get infected."

"Which is why we are tending them."

"You don't get these injuries from a boiler accident."

"Raphael and I already explained."

"How you tripped when he shoved you? Not likely. And on the same night a fireworks warehouse catches fire? You think I can't piece together such a simple puzzle?"

"I think you should not dwell on it."

"Mel!"

Donatello's grip tightened, capturing Mel's shirt along with her fingers. From behind, he drew them to her scarred stomach then slipped his other arm around her waist—so both of her hands were pressed along her buried power cell. He inhaled before resting his forehead against the back of her head, although his stomach turned at the Polysporin's tart scent.

"What were you doing there?" Don whispered.

Melody shifted. "Damn Mechanic—"

"I'm your husband. I deserve to know."

There was a pause, where the young woman's shoulders tensed. Then, she sighed. "I had a meeting. It turned sour. That is all."

Don barely refrained from pulling back and scoffing. "This meeting wouldn't have had anything to do with Black Market antibiotics, would it?"

A pause.

"Of course."

"It's been three days, and what's happened?" Melody spat. Her raised head almost slammed into Donatello's nose when she craned her neck, and her hook-nose profile sneered. "Splinter can no longer hide his cough, and pneumonia has officially settled in. We can't treat his cancer without compromising his immune system. And curing the pneumonia will cost us valuable time since his recovery will take months. Months he does not have. And that's with immediate treatment."

"April's been—"

"Do you not trust me?"

Donatello froze, gaze connected with that of his gray-eyed wife. "Of course."

"Then believe me." She whispered. Croaked, really. Enough so that guilt tightened Donny's throat as she raised a hand to his cheek and continued. "We must step back to square one."

"Again?" Don whispered back—a hard, painful action.

"Let me do this, Damn Mechanic."

"I…Mel…" Don glanced aside, and his attention wasn't brought back until Melody's cool fingers slipped behind his neck then squeezed.

"I—I know what you're doing," she said in a wavering voice. "You're downplaying matters so they don't seem as bad. Protecting yourself. You can't deny it because I know what's like. I did the same thing with Mom. But…you can't shut out the ugly truth. Let it drive you instead."

"I have been driven!" The genius' counter was strangled by a sob, one that strengthened his wife's grip when her eye narrowed.

"Not like you should be, Donatello. Splinter's case is critical. He's an elderly mutant near stage four Chondrosarcoma with acute pneumonia. And no matter how many times you wake up, it won't change."

"So since I'm not meeting shady characters in old warehouses means I'm not doing everything I can?"

The cyborg stiffened under her husband's glare. "I never said that."

"You insinuated."

"We need a new method. I've told you several times, and you kept insisting on other ways. But guess what? We can't be hypothetical anymore. And we can't sit around, waiting for possibilities; we have to make them happen."

"Without Recro-12, his chances…are…they're..." Good thing Mel kept hold of Donny's neck; if it wasn't for her anchor, he was sure he'd fall over.

"I'm sorry," she muttered against his cheek. "I thought I had a grasp on Recro-12, so we could use it for short-term instances, like it was on me and the other cyborgs. But it's too unstable."

"The power cell could've helped. Except that went missing."

Mel audibly swallowed. "It was useless anyway. It needed charged in a special Oswald Cybernetics machine to prevent an overload."

"I could've found a way."

"Donatello"—head turned, Melody pushed her cheek closer to the mutant—"stop making excuses. Quit fighting me. I—I want to save his life too."

"I know…"

"Then let me do what you tell everyone I'm capable of."

Don didn't meet Mel's gaze. And could safely assume she wouldn't want him to, either. When the cyborg shifted her face so it rested in the crook of his neck, a warm wetness was smeared between her skin and his, so he wasn't surprised at her sniffle.

"Are we supposed to do a reboot this late?" he asked.

"Things have changed," she muttered in reply. "We need to think differently; see new angles, make new plans. C—can you do that with me, Donny?"

Speechlessness meant Donatello couldn't reply, even if he wanted to. As Melody sniffled again, the mutant urged her to turn so could gather her shaking form towards his plastron. It's the little comfort he needed to nod and remind himself that she was Splinter's best chance for survival.

April's hand captured Nia's shoulder when she swayed. "You okay?" the redhead asked, steadying the artist along the Lair's kitchen island.

"Y—yeah, just a bit lightheaded," Nia answered. She sucked in a noisy breath then resumed work on two tea cups.

"Are you sure? You look ready to collapse."

The younger female flashed a smile. "I'm tired, but…I want to have tea with Splinter before bed. This K'ekchi brew works wonders on my headaches. Shame it's almost gone."

"You and Splinter have been drinking a lot of it," muttered April. She held little interest in the topic change, honestly, and given that Nia fell silent while finishing her task, the women knew she didn't care much either.

'She spends more time spacing out than she realizes,' April thought with downturned lips. 'The Anemia shows in many ways, yet she insists it isn't a big deal...then there was the incident at her work and father's place. She can't really be alright.'

"Nia."

Nia's hand ceased the stirring of one cup.

"You haven't put any honey in there yet."

Jerking her head back, Nia blinked then glanced at both her sides. The island was void, save the cups, so April retrieved a small honey jar from an upper kitchen cabinet and set it beside an open container of loose tea leaves.

When glazed teal eyes met her, the redhead sighed, saying, "We're not taking samples this weekend."

"But last week's were—"

"Nia"—April squared her shoulders—"you should recover. We've taken so much already, and it's no good to have two sick family members."

"You aren't taking anything," Nia countered, low. "I'm giving it."

"You can't keep giving until there's nothing left."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

Nia shuffled under her older sister's glare.

"I know you want to help, but Recro-12 is difficult." April captured Nia's hand on the island and felt her stomach sink at its chill. "We could completely drain you, and still come up empty-handed. The IgRs just…won't activate."

"Which is frustrating; it's been done before."

"Lombardo managed it on a small-scale. Even then, the methods were crude and the bulk of her research failed. As for Bishop…"

Nia's fingers trembled. "It's stupid," she whispered. "I have the answers inside me. The IgRs, my—my stay with the EPF, and it's all useless."

"It's not useless, Ni."

"Yes, it is." Voice cracking, the artist knit her thick brows together. "If I could remember everything that happened during my capture, maybe I'd know how Bishop did it. He fixed his body, right? Th—that's what we need to do with Splinter-san. I was there. I should know, but my brain won't tell me…"

"October's been returning to you in nightmare-ish bits since January. Everyone agrees: you shouldn't have to remember."

"Why? Because then I recall things like…like killing people?"

April drew her hand back.

"Yeah. I know about Jerry Miller and Andrew Helm."

"F—for how long?"

"Since the guys' birthday party. I had a dream. Raph confirmed it."

"You dreamt of…"

"I—I never did much for anyone else while growing up, April-san. I lacked the will, the drive, and the…growth. Now I have all three. A—and it hurts. My blood carries an answer we can't use. It's a tease. I hate it."

"I sympathize. For all the knowledge I have—my connections and experience—I feel helpless. Splinter's such a hard case, and we're working with limited resources."

"Y—you still don't have antibiotics?"

"Gavin's delved some, but doing so has raised too many red flags inside Erudio. He can't get them, not without compromising his identity."

"And you have no leads?"

"I worked briefly at Stocktronics, which focused on cyber research, not Biology. We've thought about asking Olson."

"And?"

"I—I don't know. He's already done so much. It feels wrong expecting him t—to bend the law as well. It's ill-advised for doctors to assign prescriptions without documentation. He could lose his license."

"Still, he's our best chance. Shouldn't we at least try?"

April glanced towards Nia. "If he's willing to work with Melody to gain her license, it's likely he'll say yes."

"Exactly!"

"I'll talk with Donny and Splinter later. Meanwhile, you shouldn't get your hopes up. Olson's within his right to deny us."

"Wish Melody-chan had her license. Then she could just make the calls herself."

"Buys like that are expensive. Besides, she'd be subject to the same guidelines as Olson."

"Not if she got Donny-niichan to cover her tracks. Like in the movies. Wait…can't he do that for Olson?"

"Possibly. Again, we'd have to talk with Don. He and Melody are busy right now, so…"

"We—we'll catch them in a bit then. I—it is possible though, right?"

"How do you think people get around the Black Market?" April asked bleakly.

Nia gave an acknowledging nod then turned to the tea cups. After opening the honey jar, she dipped the stirring spoon into the amber goo, plopping it generously into the teas as chatter sounded from upstairs. April's eyes turned upwards, where Raphael and Michelangelo descended the stairs in a hurry.

Raph shoved Mikey and, with a scowl on his green face, neared the kitchen island. "That thing ain't stayin' in our room," he all but snapped.

"You talking about the pig-thing Nia saved earlier?" April questioned. She smiled when Mikey rounded his older brother to lean on the counter top.

"Raphy here's just upset because our new pet doesn't like him," the jokester teased while jabbing the hothead with his protected elbow.

Immediately, golden eyes locked onto him. "It pissed on my dumbbells an' shredded my extra kneepads!"

"'It' is a he," Nia corrected, attending the teas. "And he's had a stressful day. Can't blame him for being antsy."

"He isn't the only one," Mikey remarked, gaze falling on Nia's unsteady hands.

"I'm fine, Mikey-niichan. My cover story worked, and Miss Heart didn't bring up the, uh, fight. I—I'm glad April-chan picked me up when she did, though. Don't know how much longer I could've kept the poor thing pinned behind the building."

"That 'poor thing's got teeth sharp enough ta cut through bone. It nearly took off Mike's hand when he fed it. An' ya want it ta stay wit' us?"

Nia returned Raph's glower with a stoic expression. "He deserves a chance, Huǒ. I'm the only one who he's let look him over, and the damage is terrible. He's starving, injured, terrified. There's also a brand on him."

"Brand?" Raphael echoed, eye ridges easing.

"On his inner thighs," the artist continued. "A circle with a bird inside. Probably an eagle."

"Like an EPF eagle?" Michelangelo questioned.

Nia nodded.

"That makes no sense," April noted while glancing towards the second-story hallway. "Why would the EPF brand something then set it loose? Doesn't that give away that they made it in the first place?"

"Maybe he was never meant to get away, like me," muttered Nia as she closed the honey and tea container.

"Ya think they made it for practice?" Raph ventured.

"Then it escaped before it was disposed?" added April.

Mikey grimaced, stooping his head. "Sounds like EPF protocol. But why? Is little Piggy a precursor to something worse? Maybe bigger?"

"Little piggy?"

The orange-masked mutant smiled at April. "Well, he has no name."

"We'll worry about a name later," Nia interjected. "For now, I need to get this to Splinter-san before he falls asleep."

The young woman stifled a yawn then picked up the tea cups. Their porcelain clattered against the countertop before her grip evened out, though no one said anything of the matter. April found Raphael's gaze once the artist rounded the island, and not one look was required for Nia's husband to follow her. She protested as they crossed the living room until they reached Splinter's shoji screen door, when Raph forced the cups from her hands.

"In a way, it's good he's a little forceful," Mikey said, watching the couple disappear into his father's bedroom.

April exhaled. "Ya know, while I don't often agree with Gavin, he had one thing right. At the rate she keeps giving blood and tissue, she'll damage herself."

"I don't want to think about that talk," the youngest Hamato said with a huff. "Can't believe what she told us when she came home."

"It's harsh, but true. The whole team will need a reboot, so to speak. Recro-12's a dead end and"—April's gaze drifted in the Lab's direction—"we'll all need a new direction to follow…"

A/N: Nia and the little creature are kindered spirits, but he doesn't like Raph. XD

Next up is "Down", which is the teetering point for crap hitting the fan. We still have a ways to go before this ride is over, though. Meanwhile, review? :D