TMNT are sadly not mine. Otherwise, there'd be a mother of a party at my place. But they belong to Mirage, and they haven't said anything about any parties...

Victor- Part C

They all looked at each other. Victor calmly returned their gazes.

"How can we give you life?" Leo asked, intrigued.

"There are six 'super soldiers'," he said, as if Leo had not asked a question. "Unlike me, they are- were- regular men whom Bishop has genetically altered with what he'd gotten from you as well as Splinter the first time. With the help of someone called 'Chapman'-" here everyone gasped or groaned at the name of that maniac- "he has mutated them further. Since they captured Splinter, Bishop has been modifying these six, as well as preparing to mutate more of those whom he calls 'volunteers'. There are no others who are- created- like me. Yet. And not all of the 'volunteers' survive the treatments. But one of the things we all have in common is what Bishop calls the fail safe."

"What is it?" Don asked.

"A tiny devise that has been implanted in our brains. We all have fail safes implanted in our brains," Victor explained. "So, if Bishop loses control of us, he can kill us. At a preset command, it will explode, rupturing a large part of the cerebral cortex. Death. Or, if we live, more fodder for research. Either way, death."

Mikey's eyes were not the only ones closed against the extent of the cold horror that Bishop was capable of. Don looked as if he would be ill, thinking of what he'd just said: "Or, if we live, more fodder for research."

"I still don't understand how we can help you-" Leo began, but Don cut him off.

"What's the command? How is it triggered? Is it mechanical? Does he push a button? Computer-generated command? Or a verbal one, one only Bishop has the power to activate- you know, to guard against someone accidentally setting it off by uttering that particular word?"

"A combination," he replied. "He keeps a special radio link in his watch. He has a key phrase to open that link, and then all he needs to do is give the command to self-destruct. Only," Victor ruefully smiles, "we are not actually self-destructing. He is the one destroying us. We each have a code name. Mine is 'prototype'."

"So, the activation phrase that opens the link is the same for all of you," Don said, thinking furiously. "Then all he has to do is say 'self-destruct' and the code name?"

"Yes. And he does not need to be in contact with it. It could be across the room, on a table, and if his voice can reach it, the fail safe is activated. It causes much- anxiety- when he does it, and we can hear," Victor said impassively, yet they could all see the horror in his eyes. "I witnessed the accidental destruction of three other 'volunteers'. And I have seen what happens to anyone who- survives."

"Well, that explains why you can't off old Bishop yourself," Raph growled, disappointed. He'd been planning on asking this Slayer- Victor, he forced himself to think- why he didn't just kill Bishop himself.

"Yes. He has the ability to destroy me at a simple command. Since the arrival of Stockman, the fail-safe has been perfected- no more accidental destruction. But he has gotten rid of a few others for- failure."

He looked at the Turtles and their friends. Everyone had edged their way back into the room as the story unfolded, and now everyone was registering their shock at the depths this Agent Bishop would stoop to.

"He- treats me differently- but I know- if he knew of my current development, of my thoughts and feelings, I would soon be on the dissecting table, being salvaged for reusable parts."

"He's not human," Mike kept muttering. "He's not human. Even Frankenstein had some shame. He's not human."

"He's obsessed," Don stated. "He's been making this his life's work since after the Civil War- you saw the proof. That was Bishop in that photograph; that was Bishop all those years ago! He's managed to manipulate his DNA- before anyone even understood what DNA was! He's made himself immortal."

"Donatello, I have tried to explain that he is not immortal," Honeycutt interrupted with a tone of impatience.

Victor nodded his head.

"Bishop is mortal. He is just long-lived. He can be killed. It is just difficult. He is mortal. He heals like I heal. You stab him, wound him, he heals. I believe that you came close to killing him before. Vital organs must have been missed."

The guys exchanged glances.

"He can't regenerate?" Don asked. Don had thought that perhaps Bishop, now that he knew about the DNA, could regenerate his organs- they all remembered him hanging from that hook!

"No, not regenerate- at least, not anything important," Victor said. "I am the same. If you cut of my hand- or his- it will not grow back. But it will heal over. At least, that is the theory. He is mortal."

"Yes," Leo agreed. "He is mortal, and he can be killed. But right now, we need to concentrate on rescuing Master Splinter. You can get us to him?"

"Again, yes. I have only twenty-four hours to find and kill you," he said. "Bishop wants your bodies before him. I am probably being paranoid, but I get the impression that the twenty-four hour time period is significant- to my usefulness." And the bitter smile on his lips wasn't lost on any of them. "I've already used up five of those hours, getting here and finding you. I heard your plans. The entrance to Bishop's base is in one of the buildings you were going to search. But the actual location is quite a distance from there- underwater, in fact."

"Underwater?" Mikey moaned. "Just how is this guy able to build so many places, and all of them underground- and now underwater?"

"He has gathered much alien technology and understanding over the decades. Besides, this place was pretty much already there," Victor replied. "I believe Bishop and his men found it a while ago. It had been built and used by some madman genius. A surprising amount was made from salvaged parts."

Don looked at Mikey. This sounded very familiar to the two, but they refrained from comment.

Victor remained quiet, staring at them with his strange gaze.

"I don't know, Leo," Raph finally spoke up. "Why trust him?"

A simple question that was also an excellent question.

Why trust him, indeed?

"Leo, what choice do we have?" Don asked in response. And that was true as well.

"I believe him," Mikey said quietly.

Leo looked at the others. Leatherhead sighed.

"I believe him as well, for what it is worth," the Crocodile said slowly. "I believe that he really means it when he says he wants to help. I understand his feelings." Then he looked directly at Victor. "I understand this feeling of wanting a 'normal' life. You want acceptance. I feel this. I believe you."

"Indeed," Honeycutt contributed. "I do not understand why any of you are not accepted on your own planet. But then, I have always- lived- where differences are not noticed. They are the norm. The only time it was difficult was when General Blanque was in charge. I believe him as well, Leonardo."

"I'm sort of with Raph on this," Casey said. "I mean, it's a good story and all. But he admits he's gotta bring you guys back within twenty-four hours, and dead on top of it. How do we know a convincin' story like this ain't a trap?"

April looked at Victor, and bit her lower lip, trying to make up her mind. Everyone was making perfect sense. She had always trusted her gut instinct- true, her gut instinct had made her question her sanity when she'd met the guys, and had encouraged her to view Casey for so long as a long-haired, muscle-brained goof- now she was concerned that her gut instinct to trust Victor was also wrong.

She thought of Splinter. Precious time was passing.

"I trust him, Leo," she finally said. Then she turned a fierce gaze on Victor. "But if you're lying, you won't have to worry about Bishop killing you! I'll take care of it myself!"

Leo sighed heavily. He bowed his head, and closed his eyes, and wished with all his strength that Master Splinter could advise him.

"You must follow your heart, my son," remembered words came back to him- Leo couldn't remember when or where he'd heard these words from Splinter, but they came back to him as if his father were standing next to him, speaking into his ear.

He opened his eyes.

"Okay. I'll trust you," he said simply.

The plans were revised and set. The others were resting up. It would still be dark when they finally moved out. Victor said the men under Bishop's command were fewer at the early hours. Resistance would be less at that time.

The main challenge, he reiterated, would be the six "super soldiers".

"He has dressed them as Ninja, and trained them well," Victor had told them. "They are skilled- but I can still beat them. They are powerful, quick, and almost non-human anymore. You will have trouble with them."

Raph had snorted, but no one commented.

"Hey, Victor," Don said, joined by Honeycutt and Leatherhead. "We'd like to talk to you about that fail safe."

"There is no way we could possibly remove it," Honeycutt informed him, "but we thought perhaps we could figure a way to disrupt it so that the command doesn't go through."

"We are hoping you can tell us more about it," Leatherhead concluded. "What frequency it operates on, range, anything you might know."

And they led Victor over to Don's work area, discussing things like filters and shields.

Mikey was snoozing on the couch, looking peaceful. April was busying herself with medical supplies. She knew that they would be needed, especially for Splinter. Casey was helping her get stuff in the Battle Shell.

It had been decided that they would make three teams. One would get as close to the base as possible with the Battle Shell. One would use Don's underwater sub to get there (once the security was taken care of, that is), and the third team would go with Victor through the tunnels. Leo and Raph had reserved that job for themselves. Once inside, they would use the special devise Don had given them to tap into the security systems. Then Professor Honeycutt could take control of them, as he had with Shredder's place, and the others would be able to enter. Leatherhead, because of his size, would come with them.

The part that concerned them the most was Bishop. But Leo had a plan, and even Raph agreed it was a good one.

While the others were occupied, Leo, looking carefully around to be sure no one could hear, handed something to Raph.

"What are- trackers?" Raph, looking in his hand, saw that Leo had given him at least seven of the trackers Don had made.

"I'm being cautious," Leo explained, and showed Raph that he, too, had at least a half-dozen in his own hand, as well as one of Don's tracking monitors. "I don't want to lose Bishop this time. Get as many of these as you can on him. That way, if he escapes, we have a good chance of finding him."

"With any luck, it won't be necessary," Raph said, low. Leo shook his head.

"It's not going to be easy. We need to be prepared. If we load him up with these, our chances increase that we end this once and for all tonight."

Then he looked around the room again, looked at Mikey snoring on the couch, one leg draped over the back of it, drool running out of his mouth. He then gazed at Don, who was in animated three-way conversation with the Professor and Leatherhead, while Victor sat impassively in the middle, watching all three. Then he turned back to Raph.

"I'm not trying to sound melodramatic, but- you'll take care of them, right? In case?"

Raph didn't crack a smile or a joke or a sarcastic snort.

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes. If one of us- look, we have to each make sure the body is destroyed. We don't need any more madmen experimenting, especially on the remains."

"If we're both taken down, it's gonna be a bit of a problem carryin' out that command, Fearless Leader," Raph couldn't help grinning.

Leo grinned in reply.

"You're right. I guess the only solution is to make sure we don't get taken down."

And they hi-threed each other.

Leo looked at his family and friends again.

"Let's go get Master Splinter."

Bishop was restless. It had been too long since his Slayer had set out to find the turtles. He was confident that the Slayer would have returned by now, laden with the lifeless bodies of these hated freaks!

He glanced at his watch. He had left at the end of their "business day" with the rat- around five p.m. Ten hours of the twenty-four had passed, and Bishop was growing more anxious by the moment.

Had these freaks managed to best his Slayer? Perhaps he should have sent the others with him.

He wandered the facility. Sleep was something he'd found over the decades that he rarely needed any more. The knowledge he'd gleaned from alien survivors- just before they regrettably died- had grown to the point where he had not only been able to prolong his own life, he'd managed to eliminate, though not completely, those basic human needs that normally were required to function.

Sleep was one of them. The need for food and drink were still there, but they, too, had been reduced in frequency. He found that a few meals a week were all he needed to keep functioning.

He was still trying to perfect the regeneration process. He'd been damn lucky that the hook he'd been blown onto had managed to miss the most vital of organs. He had hopes, though- it seemed that the liver had been grazed pretty good, but it had slowly healed, so there was hope that he could eventually find the key to making all of the organs regenerate quickly from the most serious of wounds.

His fondest goal was to develop a way to ensure that, should an arm or leg be destroyed, it would grow back, but he knew that there were limits even to his abilities. Still, it was nice to dream.

His ramblings through the facility led him to the lab where the rat was still strapped, lightly drugged. Bishop entered, switched on the lights.

There he lay- his prize specimen. Semiconscious, in pain- and all his. He gazed at Splinter, and couldn't help but feel victorious- and contemptuous.

Splinter, aware that he was in the room, opened his eyes and gazed back.

"Enjoying your stay?"

"Indeed," Splinter managed in as polite a voice as possible. "Your hospitality has been most generous."

Bishop, for some reason, lost the smirk off his face momentarily. This mutated accident was too peaceful for his liking.

"It's only just beginning," he gritted through his teeth, moving to the tray where the instruments for tomorrow's work were waiting, sterilized and sealed in protective plastics. "I've prepared a gift for you. One of my special inventions." With special forceps he held up a small item, rather square, flat, a tiny thin thread of wire protruding barely a half-inch from one end. The entire think looked no bigger than a child's fingernail, yet Splinter got the distinct impression that it was a deadly devise indeed.

"This, my favorite specimen, is one of my new and improved 'fail-safes'," he breathed, holding it closer for Splinter's inspection. "This particular one is going to be implanted in your highly-developed rodent brain. And then I shall not have to keep you strapped down and drugged."

"What makes you think that this toy will prevent me from escaping?" Splinter asked, still in that politely interested voice. For some reason, his tone was grating on Bishop's nerves.

"This 'toy' is a highly developed control switch. Unlike the ones implanted in my soldiers and the Slayer, this one is not simply used to destroy out of control servants. This one will give me control over your movements, your thoughts- your life. I have been dying to test it out, but strangely enough, I have had a lot of trouble finding suitable and willing volunteers."

"That is puzzling, indeed," Splinter, struggling to stay conscious, still managed to keep that calm, detached demeanor. The pain was back, worse than ever, and this man was clearly out of his mind. But Splinter was still master of himself, and he was going to prove it Bishop. "Still, I am sure that you will not find it as powerful as you think. I will never willingly submit to anyone's control. You will not, by any means, ever control me."

Bishop was getting pissed. This rat was stupid to believe that Bishop couldn't do these things. Normally this type of response from others was nothing to him; water off of a duck's back as it were. Others had scoffed or doubted, and it bothered him little what they thought.

But this rat! Something about this mutated rat drew out the anger in him. Splinter's attitude was setting him off, filling him with the need to prove it to him, prove it beyond doubt to him- and the more painful the proof, the better!

Suddenly Bishop jerked the lab table into a more reclined position, setting off more pain through Splinter's already damaged body. He roughly dragged over the harsh glaring lights he and his assistants used to illuminate their grisly work. Splinter heard the careless clattering of the instruments as he got them in position, and then Bishop was looming over him again.

"You'll forgive me if I don't use anesthesia on you," he sneered. "But the man who helps me with that is still in bed. He's had a long day with my other projects, and I wouldn't want to disturb him. I suggest that you try to move as little as possible. This will help you in that respect."

Now Splinter's head was strapped firmly to the table. The strap was drawn so tightly across his brow that he could feel it nearly cutting into him at the least movement.

The sound of something buzzing momentarily caused his calm, determined demeanor to waiver, but he quickly regained control of himself.

"A little off the top?" Bishop joked, as he shaved down a patch of fur on top of his head, so that the skin beneath was more accessible. "Don't worry, it'll grow back and the scar will be minimal at best."

Splinter felt the dripping cold sting of antiseptic as Bishop swabbed the newly bared spot. He closed his eyes and prepared for the bite of the scalpel into his flesh, steeling himself against even more pain- and fear.

As the cut came, a noise disrupted Bishop's work. The door opened automatically. Bishop cursed, turning to this intruder- and froze.

There, framed in the light from the hallway, was the Slayer.

He was carrying two turtle bodies, and both were dripping with blood.