Okay, I know, I should never have started this if I wasn't going to keep updating it regularly. I am trying to be better. I really am! Promise!
OOOH! EDITED! I forgot to thank Splinter for not only beta work but for suggesting the phone scene-- I was stuck with my Leatherhead/Baker meet up, and she thought that the phone scene might be a good idea-- and she was right! She is truly the Goddess of Ninja Turtles! (bows to Splinter!)
TMNT do not belong to me; they belong to Mirage. Dr. Baker, for as long as he lives, belongs to me.
Calvary
"I don't think he can get above ground," Raph, waiting for his turn in the bath tub, said through briefly chattering teeth. He clamped down hard on the traitorous dental appendages, embarrassed that they had betrayed his "weakness". He hated to admit it, but he was hurting and freezing and growing rather pissed at the length of time Mikey was taking. But he couldn't really complain; Mikey had been worse off.
Still...
"We had a hard time gettin' the lid off," Raph continued, fidgeting on the couch under his blanket, shivering under control now. "And that storm is packin' some real power. There ain't no way Baker can get topside."
"No kidding," Don said, turning away from the news reports that were telling of a virtual shutdown of the City. "It's accumulating quickly. Even the snowplows are stuck. The streets are buried already under at least a foot of snow. And I've been studying Baker's possible escape routes. So far he hasn't set off any of the outer perimeter alarms. I'm thinking he has already started going in circles. But my biggest concern is one particular route he had as a choice. It leads right to Leatherhead's place."
Leo looked up, startled. It had not occurred to him that the scientist might be running into their Crocodile friend. He recalled Baker's earlier words: "Even when I was presented with the living specimen of a mutated Crocodile-- even when he spoke to me, stared at me with those eyes that reflected intelligence and understanding and fear--"
"He's a dead man for sure if Leatherhead sees him and recognizes him," he said, surprised at his own concern. "Remember? He was one who experimented on him."
Splinter sighed, frustrated. It had not been his intention for them to go out into the freezing tunnels to find this man. He had trusted that Donatello's security measures would be enough to alert them to this man's location, as well as protect them from anyone actually finding their way to them.
But this news meant that they were going to have to find this man and find him quickly.
He looked at his three sons. How could he do this without breaking his parental rules? Raphael was too weak; Leonardo was still obliged to have a tagalong when he went out of the Lair, and the only one who could do that was now grounded by the Rat as well.
"Leonardo, you must go after this man," Splinter decided, frowning. "You must at the very least go to Leatherhead's place and try to explain things-- or keep him from killing this man."
Leo was secretly and childishly pleased-- temporary freedom! AND he would not have to have Don with him. Raph was too weak as well! Freedom! PERMISSION and FREEDOM!
His loving brother, however, couldn't let it lie.
"Master Splinter," Donatello hastily interrupted his older brother's silent glee. "He's going to need... help. And he is still technically--"
"Yes," Splinter interrupted sharply. "I do not need to be reminded of his current situation, Donatello. Though you do have a valid point."
Don smiled while Leo frowned, silently cursing the brainy turtle. But Don ignored the evil look his brother was favoring him with. He was going to get to go to Leatherhead's after all! This was a stroke of luck, no doubt about it! He'd be able to drop off a few quick notes and maybe get a tiny bit of work done before Splinter could reimpose his unfortunate and completely unfair grounding! He was smiling in self congratulations when his father dumped cold water on both Turtles' plans.
"I will go with Leonardo," Splinter smiled upon his son. "You will take care of Michelangelo and Raphael. Speaking of, I believe that Michelangelo has had enough time in the tub. Raphael is in need of his hot bath, and then they are both to have something hot to eat and put to bed."
"PUT to bed?" Raph burst out-- though he had been laughing quietly at both of his brothers. He had particularly been enjoying Don's predicament; payback for his brother's amusement at his and Leo's months of punishment. But Splinter's choice of words sharply reminded him just how much of a "father" he could be. "Sensei, we're not little kids ya know."
"You are MY 'little kids'," Splinter replied, getting his stick. "Do as I request. Leonardo, come."
And the rat walked out without looking back.
Don stared, slack jawed, at the retreating back of his father, wondering if he dared to ask that at least one of them take his notes to Leatherhead, pride struggling with practicality.
Leo, also, watched his father, wondering if it would be prudent-- or even worth his while-- to suggest that they split up to search for this man.
"Boy, I could sure go for some popcorn about now," Raph's voice, full of humor, cut through the stunned silence of his brothers. They both saw their shivering brother, grinning at them despite his coldness, laughing at them despite the pain he was in.
Don, with a rueful shrug, headed to the bathroom to roust out Mikey and get the tub ready for Raph.
"Leonardo! Let us go!" Splinter's voice drifted back into the Lair from the tunnel. Without a word, Leo sprinted after his father.
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Well, stupid! You've managed to get yourself lost in these endless tunnels. You can't get out because the manhole covers you've found are impossible to shift. You're freezing. You've fallen into the sewer water several times, no knowing what sort of diseases you've managed to pick up. And all because you continually think you know what's best.
Baker sank to the floor of the current dark tunnel and sighed. He knew that he hadn't been at this long, but it seemed like forever. He was half-convinced that he was going in circles. The lighting here was not the best. The smell was indescribable, but he had begun not to notice it, as the shivering had set in.
It had done him no good to grab the jacket of the one turtle-- he had almost immediately fallen into one of the channels and had managed to soak it and his pants legs.
His hands were numb with the cold, yet hurt at the same time.
He had tried to push the lid off of a few manholes, but after the third one he came to the realization that the weather was against him. The faint sounds of the storm above had finally penetrated even his stubborn resolve, and now he was wondering what the hell he was going to do.
Why had he run? He had thought perhaps that the Turtles would be the ones to help him-- had indeed helped him where those Ninja were concerned-- but something had made him run-- fear? Doubt?
It wouldn't be the first time that this strange urge to flee had come upon him. He just never could figure out why.
Why don't you go to the authorities? If she works for the other group, why not go to them?
Why not, indeed.
"What am I doing to myself? Why am I doing this?"
He gave himself up to misery for a few moments, and wallowed in what he felt was well-deserved self-pity. Then he wiped his face, took a deep breath, and rose up.
I'll keep going. I'll keep going until I find a way out, or find my way back to the Turtles-- or until I drop. No sense in trying to backtrack. I should keep an eye out for their security system. I know they have one-- why didn't I think to discover what they might look like? I could set one off and at least they'd know where to find the body...
He headed deeper into the tunnels...
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Don was in the kitchen, finishing up the preparations for Mikey and Raph's hot meals (as ordered by Sensei) when he heard the phone ring.
"Hello? L.H.!" Mikey's voice drifted, cheerful, into the kitchen, pulling Don away from the stove, where the soup was heating, and into the doorway, where he could see Mikey, well-wrapped in a blanket, speaking on the cordless. "Don? No, he can't come to the phone... grounded... yep, he was getting too much enjoyment out of Leo's problems with Splinter... yeah, it IS not how he normally acts, but you know--"
"Give me that phone!" Don snapped, making a move to grab the instrument from his younger brother. But Mikey, though still feeling the effects of his "turtleciccle experience", though wrapped like a mummy in that nice bulky blanket, was quick-- so quick that Don actually stood there, momentarily dumbfounded, staring at his own empty hand, then looking to where Mike had "magically teleported" himself at least five feet away from Don, all the while chatting with the Crocodile as if nothing strenuous was taking place. His blanket didn't even look disturbed!
"Yeah... yeah... well, I tried to warn him, you know, but Don thinks he is so clever... yeah, I hear that! Really? I had no idea! How do you keep from getting angry with him?"
All the while, Don's hands were a blur trying to snatch the receiver from Mikey, who just as quickly avoided each and every attempt-- and managed to trip Don, sending him falling into the couch!
This did NOT improve Don's temper.
"MIKEY!" he shouted, once again trying one of his many Ninja skills to wrest the phone from this annoying younger brother, only to once again fail! What the hell... how can he move so fast?
"Yeah, he's trying right now to grab it away. But Raph told me that Splinter grounded him, and he's not even allowed to talk to you on the phone..."
"Mikey! Give me that phone! It's important! I have to speak with him!" Don kept insisting, stubbornly attempting and repeatedly failing to secure the device from his sibling.
"Yeah... yeah... well, ever since the guys nearly died, Don's been acting all weird and stuff... honestly, sometimes it's like he is..."
"Michelangelo! I will personally destroy your Battle Nexus Trophy!" Don raged at the top of his voice, moving towards the item in question and snatching it from the top of the TV, and threatening to drop it-- but Mikey kept up his cheerful chatter, completely ignoring his brother.
"Grrrr!" Don slammed the trophy down; Mikey knew that he wouldn't do it.
The struggle continued. It was at times violent, and yet Michelangelo, Battle Nexus Champion and almost frozen Turtle, was able to keep the phone away from his brainy and much healthier brother.
"Well, it's good you called, 'cause we were going to call you," Mikey continued the conversation even as Don made yet another failed attempt to get that phone away from him. "Sensei and Leo are on their way over to your place. See, we saved this guy from the Foot, and you'll never guess who it is! It's that scientist that Hun and them were looking for earlier..."
"Michelangelo! Give me that--!"
"... yeah, you know, the guy in that photo badge... yeah! We were surprised, too! Are you okay? You sound a little strained... sure? I guess I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that..."
"MICHELANGELO!"
"... well, he was here, and then for some reason he bolted... L.H.? Are you sure you're okay? Really? 'Cause I feel like I upset you, and it's probably 'cause I wasn't thinking... me and Raph nearly froze to death earlier... yeah, got caught in the blizzard... No, we're fine now... Raph's in the tub, and Don is supposed to be fixing us something hot to eat... hold on..."
Mikey, in the midst of playing "keep away" with his ever angrier brother, sniffed the air, a frown on his face.
"Uh, Don-- do you smell something burning?"
Donatello froze in mid-grab, a sudden understanding dawning on his angry countenance.
"HEY!" Raph shouted from the bathroom. "What's goin' on out there? Smells like somethin's burnin'! You didn't scorch the soup, did ya, Brainac?"
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Leatherhead stared at the specially designed receiver that Donatello had provided him with. His size prevented him from using the much smaller regular devices, though he was very dexterous when it came to using fine tools and such. But the phone had been a hard item for him to use, not just because of his size but his overall head shape. Donatello had, after much thought and planning, made a phone and receiver suitable for a large mutated crocodile to easily use.
"Sensei and Leo are on their way over to your place. See, we saved this guy from the Foot, and you'll never guess who it is! It's that scientist that Hun and them were looking for earlier..."
Baker... Dr. Baker... here... must keep... control...
He drew in several noisy breaths, trying to focus on the now, not on the horrible nightmare memories that threatened to overwhelm him, to take control of him, to set loose the "monster" that Baker-- and BISHOP-- had "freed" from Leatherhead's control!
"You are a MONSTER!"
The voice of Bishop sounded in his ears as if the hated man was standing beside him. Leatherhead, with a shocked gasp, dropped the phone, desperately looking around the room. He did not believe in ghosts. Michelangelo spoke of such things to him often, especially after he had begun planning his memorial for that poor creature that Bishop had created--
"Bishop is dead!" Leatherhead insisted to himself, forcing his memory to summon up the bloodied pulpy mess that had once been the hated special Agent Bishop; he could see the body, with Leonardo and Raphael standing over the mess, just as bloodied and battered but alive. "Bishop is dead!"
"Wonderful specimen! We will keep it alive as long as possible-- at least until we can capture those Turtles..."
Once again, the voice sounded as if it were in the room, as if the hated man was alive and gloating, egging Leatherhead on and on, reminding him of all the things he had done to him...
"NO! HE is DEAD!"
Honeycutt, in another part of the dwelling, was checking some information when he heard his friend bellow loudly about someone being dead-- and then he heard what sounded like a door slamming.
"Leatherhead?" he called, moving quickly toward the sound. The robot stopped, shocked by what he saw: the door was off the hinges-- that was the sound he'd heard.
But the phone-- the specially designed receiver that Donatello had so patiently worked on-- was crushed into many pieces.
And Leatherhead was no where to be seen.
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Splinter had decided that their best bet was to head directly for Leatherhead's place. Hopefully Donatello would take it upon himself to try to reach him by phone and warn him of their approaching visit, if not their visitor. It had not occurred to Splinter to order this; he only thought of it after they had left the lair.
He had made a mistake. He had let his concerns and his temper cause him to make a mistake.
As they traveled, Splinter suddenly stopped, sniffing. The air was freezing cold and seemed to increase the smell of the sewers more so than the summer heat did. The ventilation was being affected by the storm above. But through the usual smells, he thought he'd detected the scent of a human, as well as Michelangelo.
"The jacket," he mused to Leonardo. "He took Michelangelo's jacket. I can almost smell it."
"Then he is on a collision course with Leatherhead," Leo surmised, pushing ahead of his father and scouting the area for any telltale signs. "Maybe we should split up. We need to find him before Leatherhead does."
"If we split up, we stand less chance of preventing Leatherhead from doing any harm to this man," Splinter pointed out, easily passing his son and quickening his pace, keeping his nose working for any possible hint. "Let us continue together---"
A faint roaring bellow, followed by a terrified scream, echoed up the tunnel, freezing master and student in their tracks.
"Damn! Too late!" Leo took off as fast as he could, ears straining to follow the direction of the echo, Splinter on his heels. The tunnel emptied out into a junction, where the sound was magnified by the number of branches that also emptied into it. They stood there, frantically looking around, trying to decide which tunnel to take.
The bellow was louder now; it still echoed around the area, but Splinter, ears twitching this way and that, nose straining, pointing upwards, suddenly made a move to the immediate left.
"This way!"
Leo wasted no time in plunging into the tunnel right behind his sensei. Their feet splashed through the icy water, their breaths left puffy white trails behind them. Unseen water dripped continually on them, almost rain-like-- steaming water pipes were interacting with the cold air, causing such condensation that it was creating its own miniature water cycle--
"NO! PLEASE!"
Closer, still closer, running as fast as they could, miraculously not slipping or tripping, until they skidded to a halt in front of their goal...
"LEATHERHEAD! NO!" Splinter commanded in a terrible voice.
The Crocodile had the man by the throat and a leg, holding him up to his face, holding him up to his wide-open dangerous mouth...
... and then the mouth snapped shut!