CHAPTER 16:  SHREDDER’S ELITE 

The hand of the Shredder raised upwards, signalling the Foot below. “Rise, my ninja!” the voice bolted out. 

The Foot did so. Only nine were standing.  The Shredder, overlooming his ninjas, paced slowly in circles. 

“I have spoken to the council. I will have four Elite Guards. And they will follow the same honor code the Elite Guards have followed over the years. As tradition states. “ The Shredder paused and then his dead darted to those below.  “Tonight, training for such begins.” 

The power of the Shredder was great, and with the closing of his open palm, the Foot below began to practice.  As the eye of the Shredder gleamed downward, it became almost a daze.  The hand to hand punches and kicks were not of actual use it seemed. And the Foot Scout that approached him, caught this. 

“What troubles you, Master Shredder?” the voice shyly asked.  Waiting for a quick move of action, the Shredder slowly leaned forward on the rails of the balcony, looking below.   

“Before my “return”, we dealt with one of our many.. um.. clients.” The Scout seemed confused.  “ I need you to scout out for Shadow Jones. The same little girl the Council agreed to originally kidnap almost a year ago. Before your time I might say.” 

“Yes. Before my time, Master Shredder.” The Scout bowed and then turned back to Shredder, approaching him as a son would a father.  “What of your brother?” 

The word “brother” made the Shredder cock his head in the direction of the Scout, and a sigh came from behind the metal plate covering his mouth.  “Continue the search for him as well.” Finally came the reply. The Scout bowed honorably, and disappeared within the shadows. 

CHAPTER 17: CANYON 

Donatello gazed at the stars, as if he never saw them before in his life.  The ambient light, transcending all other life forms, affecting the visual light show above.  He heard steps in the distance.  And he turned.  Canyon smiled, extending his hand.  As the two hands shook, Donatello looked at him.   

“It’s great to see you again.” 

“Yes, Don. It is.”  and silence.  Finally, “So.  What have you done recently,scientifficaly?” Canyon peered at him.  “Maybe this suit of yours?” 

“This suit,” he exclaimed, “is not of my own merit. I wish the damn thing wasn’t even a part of me. I wish I was dead than to wear this one more second.”  Donatello shook his head.  “I’m not the same anymore.  It’s as if this whole thing has changed my very existence.” 

“But it has.” Canyon muttered, as he looked at the stars.  Donatello looked at him. 

“I know.  Thanks for reiterating it for me.” 

“Well that is what scientists do.  We iterate things.  And then reiterate them.” Donatello chuckled.   

“Well... what happened to you then?” 

“Me? This suit... it’s alive. To a degree.  A symbiotic cyborg.” 

“Perplexing.” 

“Yes, but I don’t know how it works still.  I know I can have control of the nerves and morphing capabilities.” Donatello said, “and further more, this hunk of junk can still at times... control me.  I think.” 

“You think?” 

“Yes.  There are times where I don’t even feel like it’s me.  But I deleted all the files of the last host.” 

“Host? Why?” 

“Lets say a thorn in my side.” 

“Hmm.” said Canyon.  “Tried to take over?” 

“On many occasions.  It’s ‘other’ tried to help.  But I deleted the files in my mind, which is now like a computer system, and, well-- it’s easier to control myself.” 

“Interesting.” 

“Yeah.  But... it’s not anymore.  Sometimes I privately thought to myself, ‘how cool is this?’ but now days, I wish...” 

“You could take it all back.” Canyon said, “Mine is almost the same way. But my powers were forced upon me, and...” he froze.  He looked at Donatello.  “I have some medical equipment. You’d want to do a couple tests?” 

Donatello’s head jerked.  Tests. Tests were things he feared from mankind. He knew they were normal in the field of science, something he truly and deeply loved.  Matter of fact, he assisted and performed such acts many a time.  But to him, something not normal to the human eye, the word had a cryptic meaning of fear built within him.   “Tests?”   

“Don’t worry.  We’d both look over the results.  Maybe you’ll learn some things, scientificaly of course, on what makes you tick.  You know, your cyborg side.” 

Donatello sighed.  “But, how can I truly trust you?” 

“What would I do for you? What purpose would you do me?” the stars shone as he gazed up again at them, “Really. Since, I have no equipment to hold you down, Donatello.  And drawing blood would be hard, without your consent.”  Donatello saw his point, and nodded thus.

****

He flinched.  He hadn’t used needles before, but the needle was out.  He held the small part of his left leg with an old rag.  He looked at Canyon, who was taking the capsule of blood and walking over to a device.  “Painless.” 

“Yeah.” said the turtle as he moved his hand away.  He saw no blood, so he discarded the rag on the table next to him.  Canyon had to draw blood on his leg, for no flesh part remained on his arms.  Not anymore.  As Donatello explained before the blood was drawn, that on two adventures or two before he left home, taking blasts upon his arms, the symbiote took care of the damages.  Thinking nothing of it, Canyon continued to work the machines. 

“Where did you get all this stuff?” 

Canyon’s body shifted right, peering into Donatello’s eye.  “I had to steal it.  Most of it.  But it was from people who didn’t deserve it.” 

Donatello looked at him.  “Didn’t deserve it?” 

“Yes.” Canyon turned back, continuing looking at the monitors, at the information displayed.  “And they almost killed my wife.” A sound of small wires or of the sort voiced itself, and Donatello saw a shadowy curtain begin to lift back, thru a manually made pull and lever configuration.  Behind the curtain, revealed a large glass tube, and within, Katlin Graves, Canyon’s wife.  Donatello looked at her, shocked. 

“What- but-- she looks like you?” He walked up to the glass, pressing his fingers against it.  Canyon just watched him, like a parent does a child around breakable vases.   

“She looks like me, but the chemical effect-- the mutagen was much different.” 

“Mutagen?” 

“Yes. The Plasticosis.  I somewhat explained it to you before about myself.  Now, imply that to her, but adding a different chemical, or a higher setting.”  

“A different chemical reaction.  For higher amounts, or lower doses, the chemical reaction differs each time!” 

“Exactly, Donatello.  Hers differed from mine.  Probably mine made more sense because I was still living.  She on the other hand--” 

The turtle looked in awe, a wave of guilt hitting him, as he starred at the woman in front of him.  “Died?”  

“Yes.  Parished.  Gunshot.  Plasma blast.” He rubbed his forehead with his forefinger as he peered at the screen.  “Me, gasoline, the chemical, oil and whatever else is in a car.  Antifreeze...” 

“What happened to you?” 

“They found out I had something.  I was trying to store it. And it was Plasticosis.” he sighed, looking over the data.  “My partner and I-- John Russo, were working on his pet project.  Funding was coming in, but from the Farley Brothers.” 

“Ouch.” Donatello had heard of the Farley Brothers Gang.  A couple run ins with their small time drones doing small time gigs.  Him and his brothers never exactly mixed words with large syndicates.  They did it with one, and they still haunt their souls probably till the day they die: The Foot Clan.  “So- they burned you alive in a car?” 

“Yes.” Canyon glanced at her, and back at the monitor.  “We both are mutants in a degree. But She hasn‘t waken up yet.” 

“Ah.”   

“Donatello--” 

“Yes?” 

“How much do you know about reptiles? And Lysine?” 

“Not alot.  Why?” 

“It’s abnormal.  And also, your--” 

“Healing process?  Yes.  The mutagen I was infected with, allows me to heal quicker.” 

“Now, that tissue sample I took of the symbiote?” Canyon clicked on the mouse, dragging a window forward, then down.  “This... is what  I came up with.”  The turtle strutted up to the screens, looking at the one with the mouse cursor.  He read it.  “Now, read this.”   And read he did.  Donatello’s flesh, the mutagen in it, the cells were powerful.  For the last four hours, Canyon had been performing tests, blood samples of the like, and these were the first tests back; the tissue samples.  

“the symbiote--” he gasped, “is just the mutagenic DNA in my blood magnified.” 

“Yes.  Have you taken large amounts of damage?” 

“Yes--” 

“And did the cyborg side get hurt?” 

“No, absolutely not. I thought it was acting as armor.” 

“No.  The cells have a quick reproducing rate.  As soon as you destroy cells, they are put back in place.  It’s an almost unrestrictive membrane on your body.”  the five fingered metal hand brought forth another window.  Donatello examined closely.  “This is mine.  See?  Same thing.  The Plasticosis acts as a cast if you well.” 

“You mean, I have a form of Plasticosis?” 

“Somewhat.  But mine is beyond healing anymore, Donatello.  Maybe yours as well.  But for my wife, that is a different matter.  I just don’t know how to ‘break the cast’ if it were.”   

“I see.” 

“Yes.  That, and my cells generate large streams of carbohydrates.  Very odd. Yours does as well.” 

“Meaning what?” 

“Eariler you mentioned morphing?” 

“Yes.” and Donatello’s hand morphed into a gun, large, futuristic.  Almost bigger than Donatello.  “See? Why do you ask?” 

“Where does your ammo come?” 

“I--” 

“Do you eat alot?” 

“Lately, no.  But I used to alot.” 

“What did you eat?” 

“Candy bars, pizza.  Turkey.  My brother was a chef you know.  Sorta.” 

“Brother?” 

“Yeah, I swore I told you about them.  Leonardo, Raphael and Michael--” 

“-angelo.” he thought as he grinned, “four renasance painters.  Ironic.” Canyon spun his chair facing Donatello.  “But what else did you eat?” 

“Well, I take it you are trying to prove I ate alot of foods with carbos in them.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. Well I did. Mikey loved to cook and did a bunch of weird things and I gladly ate.  Yet, I didn’t have to.  I don’t think.” 

“Your mind, is a computer database, is it not?” 

“Somewhat.  I’m not completely sure.” 

“We’ll do some x-ray tests here in a bit, but you did say that, so... you think you could access any files?” 

“Any files?” the turtle questioned. 

“Yeah, any files about the past host. The past user-” 

“I deleted them.” 

“Even behavior codes?  Surely the symbiote itself can remember?” 

Donatello turned, and began to search his mind.  He didn’t remember any behavior codes, but as he thought of it, Canyon did have  apoint.  The symbiote would remember, despite deleted the files of the host.  The Host was an A.I. program: Artificial Intelligence, which was saved back onto the symbiote file system.  Easily deleted.  But now... what of the behavior?  And how to access the symbiote’s thoughts?  He didn’t know.  It was like asking him how he can morph his hands or back into things.  He too, does not know.  Usually, Shadow asked this once, and many time again after that, in which April scolded her for, but his reply always was, “I am like a musical prodigy. I can just look at a keyboard and see music, and play it, with out even learning how to play.”  It was the best, and to Donatello, as of late anyways, the only way to describe it.  It was mental, but to what extent.  As he asked the computer to begin a search, he continued looking at the data on the monitor.   

Then he found it. And he smiled.   

CHAPTER 18: LEONARDO 

The dark breeze ran thru the headband, as Leonardo shifted his gaze downwards.  His eyelids drooped, and he almost lay still, asleep.  But yet, he nodded. Awake.   

“Sure is dark out.” he thought aloud.  The turtle shifted position to the skyline.   It had been one week since Shadow had been missing.  Leonardo personally didn’t know how much longer he could take of everything.   The question of what happened filled his mind to the brim to the point where the overflow could no more be contained.  The worry and depth of the question flooded every aspect of his life.  Standing up, he removed a blanket which covered his feet, as the feeling of anger he wished would just go away.  Each morning, he hides in an abandoned water tower, meditating, trying to come to terms with what was going around himself.  Leonardo, still did not know.   

The past was a daunting expeirence for Leonardo.  usually headstrong, as of late, he had no idea who he was anymore. Nor his brothers.  The only one seemingly still together, was Michaelangelo.  Raph joined the foot clan, Don is distance, thus leaving, Splinter--  

Splinter. 

Splinter worried him the most.  It had been since that night with Raph since he had last saw Michaelangelo, and Master Splinter. Well, interacted.  Every night almost, while searching, scrambling thru the shadows, he remained vigil over April’s apartment.  Never leaving it too far.  In the distance, ten miles in the distance of the skyline, he saw the outline of the rat thru the window shade illuminated. Splinter had been there, each time he had passed, or looked on.  Did he ever move? Even for a second?  This was not Splinter.   

All the meditation though his mind justified it as helping, did nothing by putting closure on the anger which consumed him.  The anger.. of not knowing what to do.   He was the one everyone looked up to.  Splinter even looked up to him.  He was the leader.  Was he? Was he truly? Leonardo began to doubt.  “What kind of leader am I?” came a muffled reply, the crisp air verifying such a remark for the breath was seen escape his lips.

And further more, not only was he leader of his clan, but... his clan was family. Blood.  Family.  Then it hit him again.   

What kind of brother am I? 

:: Chapters 13-15
:: Chapters 19-21

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