Title: Karma Comes Around
Author: Serendipity
Rating: T
Word Count: 996
Notes: The completion of the scenes following 'Misadventures': Leonardo gets some of his own back in his own particular...what's the word? Oh, yes. Idiom.


The evening was quiet. (In this case, the typical follow-up sentence would be 'too quiet'. However, it was not, as quiet seemed to be the preferred noise setting for everyone at that point in time.) Everyone was busily avoiding Leonardo, who was sitting at the kitchen table with an empty teacup in front of him and that look of severe focus that usually only came about during meditation. He seemed to be ignoring his surroundings completely, aside from the occasion when Michelangelo attempted to offer him more eggnog. Leonardo had impaled him on a full-out Death Look. His deathly gazes were rare, but always impressive enough to make them shut up. Or, at least they hadn't spoken directly to him. They'd simply had a lengthy conversation on the couch in the entertainment section, within his earshot, about Raphael's amazing capabilities of destroying kitchen appliances with his mind. Eventually, this too came to an end as someone hooked up the game cube.

Meanwhile, Leonardo was feeling the sense of calm detachment that came with a well thought-out mission plan. He had plotted mercilessly throughout the whole evening. His brothers would meet their most well-deserved fate.

Finally, the doors swished open, and Master Splinter stepped through them, back from his arcane and unexplained trip to some unknown location. It most likely involved either ninjitsu or the lost season of Hearts In Passion, his new soap.

That was the moment when Raphael, Michelangelo, and Donatello had a feeling like someone had walked across their grave. Leonardo, who had been unmovingly and absolutely silent that whole evening, stood up and smiled. It was not a very nice smile, and it hearkened horrible things to come.

"Ah, my sons," Master Splinter said, sounding pleased to be home, "How was your day?"

"It was fine," Leonardo said, smoothly cutting anyone off before they could speak, "But uneventful. In fact," he said mildly, "We were all about to prepare for a training session. We went out previously this evening, but unfortunately didn't get much done. Isn't that right?" he asked, not even looking at the others on the couch.

Their demise was now evident. Leonardo was going to slaughter them in full view of Master Splinter. Well, obviously not kill, but anything just short of that was probably fair game. There was no way out of the incoming bloodbath, that was for sure. Leonardo had mentioned training to Master Splinter, who fully supported any honing of their ninjitsu skills, and if they attempted to back out, Leonardo would berate them with the approval and stern fatherly lectures of Master Splinter. It was ingenious. The bastard!

"Uh...yeah. We, I guess," Michelangelo said nervously. Donatello and Raphael said nothing. They were busy looking for the nearest and most accessible exit. None presented itself.

"Very good," Master Splinter said, and their doom was sealed.

Leonardo proceeded to the dojo area of their main room. He unsheathed one of his katana and examined it. "You know, I was thinking we could start with just full contact sparring with no weapons. Following that, I think we should go through weapons practice: first one on one, followed by all of you attacking me as a group."

The sheer brass nerve of that statement was enough to make Raphael want to kick his head in. "Fine," he said, accepting the challenge of an irate Leo.

"Oh, god," Michelangelo groaned, "Apocalypse starts now."

To be fair, they all tried their hardest, to misuse a phrase used by cheery-faced kindergarten teachers. They launched a full frontal assault with tactics, and skill, and a very violent Raphael. Apparently all of that was simply no match for Leonardo when he was completely focused and determined on paying back a huge grievance, because what followed was a beatdown the like of which was never seen outside of an epic battle with Shredder.

Weapons flew through the air, mainly because they were being so rapidly disarmed. There were screams of agony, or at least cries of 'ow!' and 'hey!' and 'CHRIST, Leo!' That last one was mainly blurted by Raphael and always got him a bonified Glare of Parental Disapproval. Leonardo was an unstoppable cyclone of ninja whoopass, and yea, did he fall upon them like the wrath of a very displeased god. He fought them one-on-one, making sure every defeat had a nice, personal touch, and then had them all come at him at once.

Meanwhile, he didn't change expression at all. It stayed entirely the same: a somewhat grim, determined look that denoted great concentration in the Art of Ninjitsu. It was his teacher's pet look, and it always managed to drive Raphael nuts. Especially since, with every disarming and defeat, he gave them all helpful suggestions in a firm and patient and pointedly non-smug tone, adding a nice element of psychological torture to the whole depressing affair. There was no pity. There was only Leo and his moving fists of vengeance.

When it was all done, they lay prostrate on the floor, groaning in misery and pain, with no intention of moving for a while.

Michelangelo writhed in affected death throes. "Oh, man! My fingernails hurt! Are you hearing this? My fingernails are in pain! Serious pain! That's not saying nothing else is, because my whole body is sore, but my fingernails, guys!"

"Shut up," groaned Raphael from his position on the ground, "My head hurts too much to listen to this."

"Must...get...liniment!" Donatello grasped at the air like a dying man.

Leonardo performed one completely perfect and polite bow to his fallen opponents and went to gloat in his room over his victory with a CD of classical Japanese melodies. His task had been completed, and under the Code of Brotherly Payback, Rule 23, none of this would be brought up ever again or the perpetrator would face the pain of the united front of brotherly torment. All was well with the world.

Practice was over, and it had been served cold.