He had his name laser-engraved into the steel name plaque on his desk, in two languages. One in English, in all capitals, and another in what he was fairly sure was Japanese, in some very complicated-looking kanji. It was only noteworthy because it was the only thing on his desk, apart from a very frighteningly thick folder.

It was so plain in here. Barren of any decor, not even a houseplant. The floors, walls, and furniture were the same in every room in this place, and this office was no exception. All gray and white, steel and linoleum. It was so sterile and so corporate that it unnerved him.

"I trust your accommodations are to your liking." Oroku said.

"Oh, yeah, they're great." Baxter assured him. "I'm getting settled in. So when do I start?"

"Immediately." He answered. "Arrangements have been made for you to be escorted to the laboratory every day. Karai has been assigned to be your secretary, she will manage your personal affairs."

"That's nice of you, thanks." Baxter looked over at her on the other side of the office and waved to Karai. She didn't wave back. "Honestly, she seems really cool. I'm looking forward to working with her."

Karai's eye twitched slightly. She looked to Oroku and inclined her head, as if asking permission to speak. Oroku cast an eye to her, peering at her from his blinded side. "You may speak."

"I was under the assumption that I had other duties." She said evenly.

"This directive is more important." He replied. "Your short-term replacement is being drafted from your personal entourage."

Baxter's eyes glanced between them, trying to parse out what was going on. Something was off here, and he couldn't quite tell what. Were they angry at each other?

"Training mission, then." She lifted her chin. "I can handle that."

"You had better." He leered at her. He turned his attention back to Stockman, handing him a folder. "You have been hired to complete this."

Baxter opened the folder. It was at least an inch thick. He riffled through the pages, skimming the text, the pale cast of the paper reflected in his thick glasses. His confusion started to rise, bewilderment shaking his head as he tried to quickly process what it was he'd just been handed.

"...An android?" He closed the folder. "These aren't all the plans. There are entire pieces of this thing missing. What are you asking me to do with this?"

"Perfect its articulation." Oroku Saki's good eye glinted. "Your Mouser robot is impressive. But it is a shadow of your potential. If you can make a weapon so impressive with rudimentary materials, I want to see what you can do with cutting edge assets."

"A weapon?" He shook his head. "Now, hold on–"

"Is there a problem," Oroku Saki shifted in his chair. "Stockman?"

Baxter looked over at Karai for guidance. She simply shook her head subtly.

He looked back at Oroku Saki. "...No. No problem at all. What kind of work do you need this thing to do? An android is designed for a specific task, it can't adapt to others like humans can."

Oroku Saki glowered at him. "The information you require is in the file. You need no more, and you need no less."

"Schematics don't necessarily translate intent." Baxter peered at him over his glasses. "I need to know what you need this thing to do. Do you need it to shoot? Run? Climb? I can't tell from what you've handed me."

Oroku Saki was silent. His glare was venom.

"I need more detail." Baxter asserted. "I can't operate blind. How do you expect me to follow orders if you don't give them to me?"

He glowered at him. But eventually, he lifted his eyes to Karai. "Karai, Shisōchin Shito-Ryu."

She blinked at him, as if surprised. But, obediently, she took three steps into the center of the office. Immediately, there was a change that came over her. Not anything visible or measurable, but a change nonetheless. She made no movement, changed nothing but her facial expression and her posture. She snapped to attention, bowing deeply at the waist.

Baxter watched with amazement as she settled into a fighting stance, her fists tucked against each hip. He jumped when she punched the air, fingers extended, in three successive strikes at an imaginary target. She took a step back, fists angled behind her like the wings of a bird. She struck forward, lifting a knife-hand level with her eyes, crossing her body in a chop so fast that her hand was nothing but a blur. She repeated the gesture, mirrored across with her other hand.

She completed the rest of the movements in the kata with swiftness and grace that took his breath away. A forearm thrust, block, kick, so quick that anyone who would have stood there would have ended up on the floor. She ended with an elbow strike, chop, and an uppercut. The deadly dance ended with her in the center of the room, facing the two of them. She bowed once more.

And just like that, the invisible mask she'd doffed was back on. She smiled, popping her hip. "Think you can handle that?"

Baxter had to pick his jaw up off the floor. "What you're asking for has never been done before in robotics. You understand, this will be the most complicated robot on the planet, for decades. You're… well, you're asking me to basically give you a robotics revolution."

"I am." Oroku Saki's voice was low, even, carefully measured. "If this is beyond your abilities, then we have no further business to conduct."

"Now hold on," Baxter scoffed. "I never said I couldn't do it. I just have one question."

Oroku leaned closer, steepling his fingers under his chin, listening. Those eyes were like black pits. Baxter could have sworn those two dark pools were as empty and as void of life as an open airlock, leading to the cold depths of space.

"What martial art is that? In case I need to research it more. I want to work with as much information as you can give me, just to make sure that commands translate correctly."

He gave Baxter a small smile that didn't show his teeth. "It is a kata of the Shito-Ryu school of Karate, known as Shisōchin. It is known as 'A Battle in Four Directions At Once' in English." He tipped his head to Karai. She nodded and sat back down again.

"That was amazing," Baxter breathed. He turned to face Karai excitedly. "That was absolutely incredible, d-do you mind if I use you as a motion capture model while we're training the AI? Because that would be…" He puffed out his cheeks. "That would be a huge help."

He didn't want to think about how pretty she looked when she moved like that. He was worried his thoughts were too loud, that the sound of them racing around inside his skull would alert the two of them to their presence. Like a marble inside an empty, empty glass bowl.

Baxter looked over at Oroku, a light in the boy's eyes that only a scientist at the edge of a grand project could kindle. "Is there anything else you want me to program them to do? Because honestly, this is exciting. This is gonna be fun!" He beamed.

Oroku Saki gave him a very strange look. "Are you… asking for a demonstration?"

"Yes, of course! This is amazing, I'm–" He shook his head, jaw agape. "I'm shook, that was cool."

That strange look in Oroku's eyes grew brighter, stronger. For reasons he didn't fully know, he felt his heart twitch, his gut flop. Suddenly, he felt very much like a small animal, being looked over for dinner.

It was then that he realized the same invisible mask that Karai wore, he wore. There was a change in his demeanor, a grace in his movement that felt otherworldly. Alien, almost. He only slightly showed his teeth. "What I wish to demonstrate requires a partner. Are you willing, Stockman?"

"Umm…As long as this doesn't put me out of commission." Baxter stood up shakily, looking around as his suspicions started to grow, fumbling for words that were quickly running dry. "I-I've got a lot of… circuit boards to solder, what is going on?"

"Father…" Karai leveled a glare at him. It was a knowing look, like some terrible threat carried in two syllables. "We need him alive. And in one piece."

Oroku Saki gave her a considering look. Then, he arched his eyebrows, as if he'd only heard a suggestion as to which knife to use to serve a turkey. He straightened his tie, and he cracked his neck. He closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. So subtle that Baxter could only slightly see his chest rise.

"A style of unconventional technique, which I learned decades ago. I have studied it with faith and devotion ever since." He held up two fingers. He held that hand with the same gravity and reverence that one would expect from a man carrying a gun. All he had was an empty hand.

Baxter looked at this casually brandished hand with a wary eye, face drawing into a slight frown. "What is it?"

"A style of ninjutsu, taught to us by the tengu, developed by my forebears; the Iron Foot of the Dragon. Do you know what a nerve strike is?"

"I-I mean–"

"Observe."

He stretched out his hand, wrapped his fingers around his trapezius muscle, and he pinched. Baxter felt every single nerve in his body snap at once. His eyes went wide, pupils shrinking into nothing as his brain simply turned off. He sank, unconscious, to the ground.

Oroku Saki looked down at the boy, crumpled in a heap on the floor of his office. He glared shrewdly at Karai. "You breached decorum." He said coldly. In Japanese, he demanded, Explain yourself.

You ordered me to gain his trust, by any means necessary. She replied firmly. I suspended decorum as part of my strategy, and it worked.

Your methods could have been adjusted. He said. He dissected her with his words, as if each one were formed with a razor edge. An entirely fabricated legend is safer to utilize than a more personal one. That risk was careless. You must stop using the truth to conceal deceit, Karai.

It establishes trust. She affirmed. I did it to make sure he knows who to run to if he ever wants to disobey. His first impression of me will be as a friend, a sympathizer.

Then you can control him. Oroku Saki gave her an even, calculating look. Like a gambler deciding if a horse was lame or worthy of the race track.

I will control him.

Good. You are assigned to head his personal security and surveillance detail. Monitor his communications. Assemble whatever equipment and personnel you deem necessary to follow his movements. I want the video feed in his personal quarters accessible from my desk.

The decorator has already planted the cameras. The technicians have installed the rootkit into his new computer as well. The locations of each camera and directions for accessing his computer are in your email. She bowed at the waist, turning to leave.

One more thing, Karai.

She turned, glancing over her shoulder at him. Oroku Saki drummed his fingers on his desk. Understand what happens if he disobeys me. If he cannot be controlled… I am holding you responsible.

Her face gave away nothing. She only lowered her head in a nod of acknowledgement. I understand, Master Shredder.

Baxter slowly regained consciousness after that. He could barely move his arm, it hurt so bad. He found himself surprised to be staring up at the ceiling of his new room, covers pulled up to his chin. He sat up, blankets shifting. He checked the clock; he had only been out for an hour.

On a hunch, he got out of bed, and struggled to take off his shirt one-armed. He tried to get a look at where Oroku Saki had pinched his neck, but didn't see any marks except for a very small bruise.

His mind was a whirl of questions and suspicions. And he was starved for answers. He needed to see Karai, ask her what was going on. Even a lie was better than knowing nothing.

He texted her for a ride to TCRI, and while he started working on assembling his first revision to the prototype android, he asked her about what in the world had happened yesterday. Her answer shocked him.

"You're saying it was a trick?" Baxter shook his head. "And it's a martial art?"

"I suppose there's an art form to it."

Baxter looked thoughtful, wirecutters loosely held in his hand. "Is it hard? Being a ninja?"

Karai's look was hollow, empty. As if the soul inside her had been snuffed out, like a candle in a jack-o-lantern. "In the old days? People died. Often. Accidents, usually. Overexertion, heat exhaustion, injuries…" She shrugged. "Murder, too. Students and masters being paranoid or jealous of one another is the leading cause of death among ninjas."

"Well," Baxter set the wirecutters down. "Doesn't seem like diabetes will be what kills your father."

Karai chuckled darkly. "No, you're right. It will probably be me one day. How's your arm?"

Baxter grimaced, massaging where the Shredder had pinched him. "If I described it like some venomous ant from Australia decided to bite me, hang on for a few days, and then die with its head still attached…" He snickered. "That wouldn't be painful enough."

That made her laugh, a ringing sound like a small, rusty bell from the bottom of the ocean. "You wanna know the secret?" Her eyes twinkled.

"If you told me, would you have to kill me?"

"Nah, I'll give you this one for free." She grinned. "There is… no such thing as a nerve pinch. He has a hypodermic needle tip that he's glued to a fake fingernail. Did you notice that as soon as he straightened his tie, he struck you? He slipped it on then, it was actually part of his tie pin. It's coated in a short-acting nerve toxin. It's an old kunoichi trick, actually. We used to use snake venom."

"I thought so!" Baxter exclaimed. "Sure, there are plenty of nerves close to the skin… but to put someone to sleep like Spock?"

Her voice suddenly became cold. Clinical. "A ninja is a spy first, and a warrior second. A spy's greatest asset, like a stage magician, is deception. Misdirection. If you're going to be dealing with that bastard, that's the most important thing you should remember."

Baxter was quiet.

"Don't trust him." She said. "Never trust any ninja. That includes me. You can never, ever trust me. No matter what."

Baxter slowly looked up at her, narrowing his eyes. They were huge behind his coke-bottle glasses. "What does that mean? Why are you telling me this?"

She examined him. In a cold way, it reminded him of the way he'd look at an exotic blueprint or a rare computer component. Like a very interesting and odd tool in his day to day hobby. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle."So you aren't caught off guard." She said, "I kinda wanna see you survive."

Baxter's face fell, blood draining from his eyes as his smile slipped. It was then that he made a terrible realization. April was right.