Hi, TMNT aren't mine, Dr. Baker is mine, great wealth isn't mine, lots of trouble is mine...

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Hun had learned many lessons from Oroku Saki. One of the most important was presentation.

He stood in the tailor's shop, having just participated in his final fitting for three very expensive yet tasteful suits.

"Money is the key, Hun," Saki had said once, when Hun had accompanied him to this very tailor- the finest in NYC. "But do not assume that just because you spend a lot of it that you get the quality you are after- you must present yourself to others as someone not merely successful, but someone with taste as well. A business suit should speak 'Business', not 'showoff'."

So it was that Hun was now admiring the high quality yet tasteful design of the three outfits that he had tried on. The linen "casual" amazed him; he had never thought of clothes as making one seem so... so... respectable. This outfit made even him look as if he belonged at an informal afternoon meeting or outdoor get-together.

The charcoal gray wool for important board meetings or dealings with the most important people was so simple in design- and yet it hung off of him as comfortably as if he were used to wearing such things from little up. He could not take his eyes off the mirror for a good few minutes.

But the tuxedo- the tuxedo was even more elegant than the one he'd worn to Karai's little "dedication opening" a short time back! Again he longed for a way to be able to have his father- and his mother- see him decked out so finely. It would have pleased her and killed HIM!

"Good news, Sir," the tailor interrupted his thoughts. "The coat was finished ahead of schedule. All we need to do is try it on you and see if any fine tuning is needed."

"Mr. Jacob, I am certain that it will require NO fine-tuning," Hun complimented him, absurdly pleased as he watched the assistant approach with the specially made deep black cashmere topcoat. "My late employer always told me that you were a Master of the old order when it came to clothing. At that time, I have to admit, I did not see the importance of such things, but now- now I understand."

The tailor blushed appropriately even as his ego swelled again. He knew he was the best- he was not a name-brand, but who cared? His custom outfits only graced the frames of the most powerful- and it did not matter what their occupations were.

"I am pleased that I have you as a client, Sir," he replied. "You have such a unique build that it is a pleasure outfitting you!" And it was, it was! His skills were proved time and again, as he fashioned tasteful outfits that sat comfortably on Hun's huge physique. Stuff from the local Big and Tall shop looked just that- something that came from a big and tall shop. But the finery Mr. Jacob fashioned for Hun was Art!

Hun smiled, pleased beyond belief. Then he slipped on the topcoat- and nearly teared up, it was so wonderful.

"Is it ready to go? I would like to wear it out," he asked, like a child with a new toy.

"Oh, yes, Sir- it looks as if it is a perfect fit. You are sure it is not to binding in the shoulders?" the tailor worried, stretching his thin, short arms upwards in an effort to get Hun to move his own massive ones in a way that would demonstrate any imperfections in fit.

Hun obliged the little man, and everything was fine- no seams popped, no bunching occurred- his muscles moved unrestricted in their fine casing, and he smiled in delight.

"The suits will be delivered as soon as they are ready," the tailor said, as Hun prepared to leave. Fang, his assistant, already had the wallet out to pay for the purchases, while Hun slipped his specially made leather gloves on and buttoned the new topcoat.

"Mr. Jacob, it is always pleasure doing business with you," Hun said, bowing from habit. He found that this little affectation, a hold over from his years with the Shredder, did a lot to impress people- even more so than a handshake. They invariably bowed back- as did Mr. Jacob.

"I am the one honored by your custom, Sir," he replied, hands clasped as his assistant rang up the sale and presented the change and receipt to Fang.

Business concluded, Hun stepped out into the bright sun of winter. The snow was mostly removed from the streets, the sidewalks fairly cleared in this part of town, and the air, cold and crisp, was warded off by the warmth of his new topcoat.

Into the limo, and off to his business luncheon.

"But why with Karai, Master Hun?" Fang asked. This still puzzled him. He knew better than most just how Hun had felt about this witch.

"The Shredder used to quote that strange saying, 'politics makes strange bedfellows'," Hun responded, brushing an imagined speck of dust from the sleeve of his coat. "Karai and the Foot are still a profitable business venture. Their legitimate holdings are perfect for our own purposes, and it lends an air of respectability to our own businesses. Plus, I need to keep an eye on her. I do not trust her; and she doesn't trust me. It's the perfect working relationship, actually."

They arrived at the restaurant, and Hun was soon seated, awaiting Karai's arrival. He glanced over the wine list. Truth to tell, he never really had cared for it, but he was slowly acquiring a taste for it as well as some simple knowledge. He learned right away to rely on the wine steward, and his size prevented the more snooty from trying any foolish tricks on him.

"I may not know French," he said to one who had viewed him with a haughty look, "but I understand attitude and intentions. Especially bad ones!"

The man came off his high horse in a hurry, and Hun was treated to a very fine bottle of real French champagne on the house.

Hun was so enjoying this!

Karai arrived fifteen minutes late. She was impeccably dressed, simply and elegantly, for a business luncheon. Many men in the place admired her as she was escorted to the table where Hun, the proper gentleman, had risen to greet her with their usual bows- old habits die hard. Hun was the envy of many- what a hot date!

"My apologies for being late," she said, as they seated themselves and the waiter poured the wine that Hun had ordered. "A last-minute opportunity presented itself, and I had to deal with it at once."

"Anything I might find interesting?"

She smiled a tiny bit, sipping the wine.

"This is very good," she commented. "You have good taste."

Hun shrugged off the compliment. He did not press Karai- he still had some contacts with the Foot who would get him the information if possible.

"I'm learning to like a lot of stuff," he replied instead, and picked up the menu again. He pretty much knew what he was going to have- steak, rare, with mashed potatoes rather than baked, and plenty of mixed veggies.

Karai sized him up even as she, too, glanced at the menu. She decided to keep it simple: caesar salad with shrimp tossed in as extra.

"I may have a way to locate Dr. Baker," she said, after their orders were taken.

Hun barely paused in his appetizer. But her news was startling.

"You know where he is?"

"No, that has not changed. He is still with the Turtles, wherever in those disgusting sewers they are hiding," she wrinkled her nose at the mention of such places, even as she helped herself to an appetizer. "But we found a most interesting device at our outpost. It appears to be a transmitter that was spying on our movements. Chaplin was most impressed with its complexity, considering it was cobbled together from junk. It's transmission range is very good, but still limited. Even now Chaplin is working on refining the accuracy of the radius and methods of triangulation. We should have a general location by tomorrow. I am certain that we can flush him out- as well as those freaks."

"Well, this is good news!" Hun agreed. In the old days he would have brought up her failure to keep the person in question from being rescued, but things had changed. He still didn't like her; but he had grown to appreciate her; perhaps even admire her.

Perhaps.

"Tell me, no more fairy tales. What is the real reason this man is so important?"

Hun waited until their lunch, just now appearing at their table, arrived, then he smiled even as he cut into his sizzling steak.

"He was Bishop's top person in regeneration, especially of the brain," he replied, and took a hearty mouthful of the rare meat, careful to not get any of the blood on his clothing. Table manners were something else he had cultivated with his new status, to the point where even when he was alone he was cautious of messes. "Mmm..." - swallow- "they make the best steaks anywhere. Anyways, at first I suspect that Bishop- or whomever hired us- just wanted him back or dead. But now, they just want him back. And since the story is that Bishop is dead, I'm wondering if their urgent need is in somehow bringing him back..."

Karai, in the middle of her salad, looked at Hun with skepticism.

"Science fiction, Hun? Bringing the dead back to life?"

Hun shrugged, well into his veggies.

"Look at Stockman," he pointed out, a touch of his old "self" coming out to jibe her. "Or rather, don't look at him, it's too gruesome. Might put you off your dainty meal."

She did not like being reminded of her pity for that megalomaniac. She lost all sympathy for the scientist once she knew that he was the one to betray her father to Bishop.

"Stockman will someday receive my attention," she said, sipping some more wine. "But do you really believe they can bring Bishop back from the dead?"

"I ain't really interested in if they can," Hun replied. "But I'm thinking that this guy can be of use to me. I got some projects I might want to use him for."

"Planning on bringing your father back from the grave in order to rub your success in his face?" she asked innocently.

Hun, in the old days, would have hit her if he had dared. But now-

"I wish it were that easy," he easily laughed, pouring more wine for himself as well as her. "That would be something. No, I'm thinking more along the lines of using him as a bargaining chip- it helps to keep the Government's eyes away from business. A few 'friends' in the right positions as it were..."

He left the sentence unfinished, but she understood his meaning. He would have something to hold over someone working for the government; this person, in influential position, could be of great help in preventing some of Hun's more daring adventures from coming home to rest on his expensive doorstep.

She ate her salad in comfortable silence, mulling over this bit of news...

She, too, would like to misdirect the Government away from a few projects that she had in the works...

But at the moment, she was not sure she was willing to cross Hun. She could ill-afford a war with him right now. Both had worked hard to maintain a respectable appearance; indeed, their organizations, combined, were slowly squeezing out the Mob. Working with the Dragons was for the moment to their mutual benefit.

"So, you'll be ready to go sewer hunting tomorrow?" he asked, as if they had been discussing this topic steadily. Karai finished up her meal, making use of her napkin though there had been no real need.

"Hopefully. Not that I am looking forward to entering that realm, but if Chaplin's plans go accordingly, I should not have to- he will find them and then- we will be settling some old scores."

Hun, smiling, lifted his glass to her.

"To settling old scores," he said, a glint in his eye. She met his gaze, read the double meaning- and smiled in return, lifting her own glass.

"To settling old scores," she replied, and sipped her wine in a very amused frame of mind. They had a truce for the moment- it may very well last for years- but neither trusted the other. They both knew that the other felt this way, yet strangely enough, it did not bother them. It was, in fact, rather comforting, knowing that some things never change.

Dr. Baker sat on the couch in the Turtles lair, stunned into awkward silence. Many sets of eyes pinned him to his seat, and the range of emotions was almost overwhelming.

He had just heard a long and frequently interrupted story about Bishop and the Slayer and someone named Victor and "Frankenstein" and memorial services and someone controlling rats and...

And the bickering!

"He's dead!"

"No, I'm telling you-"

"Mikey, dead is dead!"

"That's why we thought-"

"He's not dead! He's that guy controlling the rats!"

"Mikey, he is not! You're imagining-"

"Doesn't look like him, doesn't-"

"It's HIM!"

"His brain was fried by Bishop-"

"But YOU were working on fixing brains, right?"

"Mikey, the brain-"

"Cause otherwise why are they still looking-"

"My sons, please allow the doctor to speak!"

Baker sat there, trying to sort it all out. This one turtle wanted him to say that people can come back from the dead, that brains can be regenerated. The others wanted him to confirm that such things were not possible and to accept that this mysterious stranger was NOT the person the one turtle wanted it to be.

"I- I never saw the Slayer activated," he finally said, cringing slightly, eyes downcast. "I had left my position long before then. I had a friend who kept me informed, but I never saw it."

He took a shuddering breath.

"As for the 'fail safes'- well- thank God I never had anything to do with those," he hoarsely whispered. "I do not recall anything like that being used at the time, but it sounds so much like something Bishop would devise. And judging by your descriptions," here he briefly looked at Donatello, who had told him the story of the brain-rupturing device that this Victor had informed them about, "anyone surviving would pretty much be a vegetable."

"You see?" Raph couldn't help pleading with Mikey.

Mikey was not to be deterred.

"But the regeneration! You said you'd been working on something like it! And what if it worked? What if it had not really killed him, and he managed to regenerate enough just to drag himself out of there before the explosion? What if-"

"What if the moon were made of candy?" Raph was angry. He loved his brother to death, and couldn't understand why he was determined to make himself so unhappy.

There was an uneasy silence. Then Baker spoke.

"I might have a logical reason why you think this way," he said, memory coming back to him as he rethought all he'd been told. "When I was on the run, I came across- one of Bishop's 'clones'- injured badly, strange wounds, strange combination of human and metal. But it was definitely one of Bishop's clones." And he told them how he'd found this poor being under an old bridge; how he'd recognized it as Bishop's handiwork; how he'd tried to get help for it ("and at the same time bring some unwanted attention to Bishop's work") but it had vanished by the time he'd returned from making the call.

"Perhaps this is who you saw," he said, clutching his hands absently together. "Perhaps this person is the- the one you mistook for- for the Slayer."

"Victor," Mikey said, hopes falling despite his stubborn determination to believe otherwise.

Splinter spared his youngest a pitying glance before returning to Dr. Baker.

"This would make the most sense," he said. "Especially where the damage to the brain was concerned."

"Yes," Baker nodded in agreement. "Despite the progress of our work, I just can't believe that anyone could survive and recover from what you have described."

Leo felt for his brother. Mikey had so wanted to have this to be true!

"What puzzles me," Baker said after a few minutes of respectful silence, "is this being able to 'control' the rats. Why would Bishop design anyone who could do such a thing?"

No one could answer his question.