Yes, can you believe it, I've actually updated this. TMNT are the property of Mirage. OCs are mine. "The Lost Season" is freakin' AWESOME

Calculations

Mike stood at the stove, monitoring the progress of his bacon.

Time was the tasty meat was a rarity; since becoming family with April and Casey, things had become decidedly easier food/wise. Oh, Splinter had done well by them all growing up, and once they were old enough to start helping with the scavenging, they had managed to secure a decent amount of edible food.

But this!

Mikey carefully moved the sizzling slices to a waiting paper towel, where he carefully patted away the excess grease. Then, toast well-mayonaised and tomato slices at the ready, he finished building his late-night snack, and after a quick clean up he sat at the kitchen table and dug in.

Yum! This was just what he needed! They'd been out in the system, ranging far and wide, making sure that there were no remaining Foot or tracing devices of any kind. They'd been given specific areas to cover, and Mike's had extended for approximately ten miles along the main section, checking and rechecking the security systems, noting where recent work had been done and making sure that it was the City and not Karai's little pet-geek's handiwork, making sure that there was no way their home could be discovered. Just because they were in an older section far below other levels of the normal system did not make them complacent.

Chewing a mouthful of crisp toast and nicely cooked bacon, Mike sighed tiredly. It had been long, tedious, boring work, but he'd made sure that he'd done his best and had treated it seriously. That battle with the Foot had been a surprise- if he had not been out that night with L.H., who knows how things would have turned out.

Don had been given enough of a warning from Mike to flip the switch on one of his latest projects. Soon the security beacons were giving off signals that scrambled the tracing devices the Foot had been relying on, sending them in directions that not only led them far from their home, but kept them running into each other as they fruitlessly searched.

Crunch-crunch-chew-swallow. Mike reached for his soda, hesitated- then got up and retrieved one of Raph's precious Japanese beers. He had worked hard today, and he figured that it was worth risking his brother's anger to wash the sandwich down with the brew.

Besides, it would help him sleep.

The battle with the Foot had been bloody but necessary. Mikey did not enjoy the killing- he liked a good fight, but he did not enjoy the death that went along with it.

Washing the blood away into the system had been one of their first jobs. Fortunately for them, Karai did not leave her dead to rot abandoned and unmourned in the depths of the sewers, though whether she did this from a sense of honor or just wished to make sure that they were not discovered by city workers and eventually traced back to herself, Mike neither knew nor cared. All he knew was, he had NOT had to dispose of bodies, and that was a plus in his book.

"Hey, Raph is gonna skin you alive," Don's voice broke into Mike's thoughts. The brainy turtle joined Mike at the table, where the younger brother wordlessly and generously offered half of his half-eaten masterpiece. Don politely declined- eating this late at night never did sit well on his stomach. "You made sure everything was secure?"

Mike swallowed even as he nodded.

"Quadruple-checked," he said, taking a pull on the bottle of cold beer. The bitter taste seemed to compliment the smoky flavor of the cured meat. It went down smoothly and made the turtle feel comfortable. "Really, Don, there is no way Karai can find us- not even if she uses bloodhounds. 'Sides, you are the best! That dude Chaplin has nothing on Hamato Donatello!"

Don shook his head against his brother's praise, suppressing a yawn. He, too, had been out, though he had gone farther and worked longer than the others had. His self-appointed task had been the side channels, the lesser-known and disused tunnels. He didn't like putting up too many security devices- the more that were installed, the more chances someone had of accidentally discovering one, and he did not relish the idea of being discovered because of a plethora of security.

"Well, I guess I'm being overly cautious," he said, stretching. "And Shredder's Foot couldn't find this place, that time we were forced out of the sewers. I'm just worried that she will keep this up."

"Yeah, she's sure to want payback and soon," Mike agreed, finishing up his late-night meal, brushing stray crumbs from the table into his hand and then carrying them to the trash. He used to just brush them onto the floor, until Splinter caught him doing it- he could still remember how much his tail hurt, and he had not relished sweeping every room in their home three times a day for a week. For one thing, sweeping Raph's room had almost required the use of a shovel instead of a broom. And three times a day at that! Raph had made sure that Mike had plenty to deal with.

"Yes, we've given her group two defeats," Don nodded. "She's not going to take that lying down. We'll have to lay low for some time. At least we have the Underground City to flee to if we need-"

"No, thanks! I'll stay here and fight to the death," Mike vowed. Nothing- NOTHING- was going to get HIM back down to that Elentian hellhole! NOTHING!

"And besides, she's not gonna find us," Mike avowed, disposing of the now empty beer bottle in the recycling bin. "You are just too good. Night!"

And Mikey, unwavering confidence in his older brother's abilities filling him to the brim, went cheerfully to bed.

Don sighed, then fetched one of Raph's precious beers and poured himself a drink. He only wished that he felt as confident as his younger brother. Don was scientist enough to know that things are never certain.

Chaplin stood in Karai's office, wondering if she would continue in the tradition of her father. He remembered when he'd come aboard, how Hun told him the story of Stockman's "failures", as well as the various punishments that the Master had dealt out. The brain in a jar had, however, pretty much been the result of Stockman's placing his own battered body into a gigantic killing machine of a robot body. He had thought to deal with everyone, and ended up going against a briefly united Shredder and Turtles, and wound up technically dead- save for the strange ability of the technology that had kept his head "alive".

And then, though Stockman had managed to acquire a NEW robot body, he had been dumb enough to try to settle old scores- and had wound up in a floating goldfish bowl, nothing but ganglia and gray matter and one eye stalk.

Chaplin wondered how HE would like existing like that...

"Your report?" Karai's icy voice stabbed into his musings.

"Well, from examining the one remaining tracker, and listening to the survivors, I'm pretty certain that the signals were scrambled," he said, without a trace of fear or guilt. "Fascinating, really- I'm speculating that the signals were somehow transmitted by any of the perimeter warning beacons they surely must have down there. I wish I could have gone along, I might have been able to find one. Sometimes that kind of signal can be used to trace back to the source. It's all based on-"

"I do not require a lesson, Dr. Chaplin, I need a way to find the Turtles!"

"Sorry," he said. "Anyway, from all I've learned, I think that I might be able to locate their home, but it's going to take a while. There are many equations to work out. Plus, the equipment I have in mind has to be built first."

At the look on her face, he raised a reassuring hand.

"Oh, I'm not talking about a ton of money!" he asserted, misreading her expression. "It's a matter of adapting some of the items we put together for the Shredder's plans for the Utrom home world. Mostly it's recalibrating and writing new programs. And it'll put all that lovely stuff to use. I've hated watching it sit there, unused, all this time."

Karai's eyes bored into this man; her father would have blamed him and him alone for the failure of this venture, but she knew that the true blame was with the Turtles- and with her warring factions.

"Yes, you are right. This will take time. You are not the only one who must- 'recalibrate'- items. Very well. You may go."

Chaplin, with a cheery wave, headed for his beloved lab, his mind already racing with ideas for turning Donatello's cleverness against the Turtle Clan.

Karai stared at the door long after the little scientist had closed it. Then she rose and made her way to the room where the large statue of Oroku Saki stood, a shrine to a much-loved and sorely missed parent.

Lighting some incense, she bowed to the figure, then, seated on her knees, she gazed up at the well-known visage.

"Father... father, I am a failure! I have not avenged you yet. I must first purge the Foot of the disloyal, the insolent. I must halt this infighting between the ninja. Forgive me, Father. Forgive me for my failure. I will avenge you! I will avenge you by all means available to me- both physical and spiritual!"

Pressing a button in the base of the statue, a small, well-disguised chamber revealed itself. Carefully she retrieved a glowing medallion.

The Heart of Tengu.

She had refrained from using it. She had never trusted the mystics it controlled. Shredder had respected their power, but never trusted them. He used them sparingly, and constantly warned her from little up to never rely on them.

Their magic is great, but you must never let them become free," he told a thirteen-year-old Karai, as they demonstrated their elemental powers by battling a vicious rival gang back in Japan. Saki had decided to use them in his vendetta with the Yakuza, and it had paid off- the crime organization completely left the Foot alone after that!

"Always keep the Heart of Tengu safe and secure. As long as you control it, you control these five," he said, and Karai respectfully bowed. "Use them sparingly. Never rely solely on them. They are a weapon for you to wield. You must be their master, when you take control of the Foot."

"Hai, Master," she responded. Then that well-known expression came upon her face- the one that reflected her fierce loyalty to her father. "But I will never need them! You will always be Master! Always!"

Oroku Saki smiled, and placed a hand on the girl's head. She was growing so tall!

"One day, I will return to my home world," he said, despite her stubborn shaking of her head to deny this news. "And you will rule in my stead, until my return."

"Until your return," she muttered, gazing at the large, glowing crystal. "If only I could bring that about. If only..."

Leo attacked Splinter with great determination. The clang of katana against katana rang out in the dojo: Parry, slash, deflect, leap, spin, clash, clash, parry, slash...

"You have mastered this lesson," Splinter approved after a few more minutes of this.

Leo, panting, respectfully bowed his head, but he couldn't help thinking I mastered that lesson a long time ago, Splinter. When are you going to teach me something new

He had been strangely aware of a growing dissatisfaction with the lessons Splinter was giving him. No matter how good he got, Splinter seemed to think that he was not ready for more.

Leo had been learning some styles on his own, but when he would try them against Splinter, the Rat would easily beat him, then point out that he was not ready to learn those lessons just yet.

"Patience, my son! You have a long way to go before you are ready to begin such difficult training," he would always say- and lately, those words were wearing on Leo's nerves.

Being grounded for the rest of his life wasn't helping either.

The battle with the Foot had been the first real "freedom" in some time. He had almost reveled in the battle and the carnage- and that frightened him. He did not wish to be so hardened that he would welcome killing others.

But Splinter's tight control on him was driving him to a breaking point.

As Leo took a place on the floor, drinking from a bottle of water that Don tossed to him and watching as Splinter put Mike through his paces with the 'chuks, he carefully went over in his mind what he planned on saying tonight.

Splinter had agreed to speak with him regarding the punishment. Leo hoped to persuade his father that it had been long enough. He wanted to have the same freedom as his brothers. He couldn't be an effective leader if he were still...

No, don't use that argument! It won't work.

He had learned his lesson. He knew that he had been acting like a spoiled brat. He was not begging for his freedom; rather he was appealing for a chance to prove himself to his father, to be allowed to show Splinter that he could trust Leo again.

He watched as Mikey demonstrated that he had mastered his current lesson, and noted that his brother glowed with pride at Splinter's words.

Leo shook his head; Mikey's lesson had been mastered by the youngest weeks ago, yet he accepted the judgment as if it were for the first time. So had Don and Raph, when they, too, had been "taught" old lessons they had mastered in the past. In fact, Raph had mastered his shortly before they had dealt with Bishop.

Had Splinter forgotten? Was he losing his memory...

"Well, naturally, it's to be expected," Mike said in response to Splinter's praise, snapping Leo out of his thoughts. "After all, I'd be a pretty sorry Battle Nexus Champion if I couldn't master my lessons!"

"You're a pretty sorry Battle Nexus Champion as it is," Raph muttered, once again feeling the shame of being beaten by his brother so long ago.

Mike merely grinned at his brother's words, but he refrained from baiting him further. He did, however, blow a kiss in Raph's direction.

Leo wondered why Mikey hadn't complained about it. He usually was the first to point out that he'd already done this lesson Aww Jeeze did he really have to do it again...

Splinter gazed at all four sons.

"You are all dismissed for the day," he said, and accepted their bows, then watched as they paid respect to the dojo and left- all except Leonardo.

"We're still going to talk tonight, right?" he asked, suddenly nervous. He was fighting his overwhelming desire to do it now, get it over with- but he also knew that he was too keyed up at the moment, and he might wreck his chances while he was still feeling so strangely emotional.

What was wrong with him?

Splinter nodded, accepting a bottle of water from Leonardo and drinking gratefully. It had been an active lesson, and though his sons probably thought it ridiculous after their recently defeating the Foot, Splinter had insisted on repeating old ones rather than teaching something new.

"Yes. I have not forgotten," he said. "I have not forgotten anything," he added, and Leo briefly wondered if his father had learned to read minds. "We can speak now, if you wish."

"No, I wish to wait until later," he said, hastily bowing. "It's not urgent. I can wait. I'm gonna hit the showers."

Hastily Leo headed for the bathroom. He was NOT going to blow this. He was going to do this right. He was going to wait until tonight, when he could speak calmly and sincerely.

Splinter watched his son's retreating back. But he did not have much time to wonder about things.

"Fork over the money, Mikey!"

"Raph, calm down! Don't you know that getting so angry all the time is bad for your health?"

"Yeah? Well drinkin' my beer is bad for your health!"

"Aww, c'mon, dude! I only had one!"

"Then why are TWO missin'?"

"Maybe mice?"

"Mice named MIKEY!"

"I only had ONE! Ask DON! Hey! Maybe Don drank it!"

A derisive snort answered this.

"Don don't drink my beer, only you do! Now fork over the money!"

"I'm not paying for more than I took!"

"Mikey!"

"OW! SENSEI!"

Splinter shook his head.

"Kids."

He roamed the alley in the dark, searching for food, searching for anything.

The weather was still cold, but the night was clear and cloudless. He filled his bags with as much as he could carry. It was a good night for finding enough for himself as well as his friends.

They, too, were out scavenging, but as usual he would bring back enough for the young and the ill.

This alley was well-stocked with dumpsters, and a door from a popular restaurant opened frequently, as the kitchen help disposed of much that was still good.

He was not alone in searching these bins; he saw a ragged figure crouching in the shadows- small, thin, and holding her own bag.

He had learned to identify females. He left all alone who left him alone- unless they invaded his sanctuary, and then, if they did not escape, they stayed as food.

But away from his home, he left the others alone.

The door closed; the figure, fearless but wary, began to search and scavenge as quickly as she could, filling her bag while keeping her eyes on the door, then the alley entrance, then him.

He ignored her, but was aware of her. He resumed filling his own bags.

He heard the approach before she did; he vanished quickly, bags well-hidden.

The woman was not as lucky.

"Hey! I tole ya 'bout workin' this place!" a harsh, hard voice startled her. A rough hand grabbed her wrist before she could bolt; with the other hand the man wrenched the bag of food from her, then threw her against the dumpster, heedless of the noise, not caring if anyone heard. From experience he knew the kitchen staff would not interfere- not if they wanted to live.

"Please, I just need enough for the kids," she hopelessly said, hurting from the hard contact with the cold metal of the dumpster. The man, strong, tall, well-muscled in spite of living on the street, stepped forward and backhanded her across the face, sending her staggering back several feet, where she collapsed onto the filthy ground.

"Ya wanna get this, ya gotta earn it- and you know that!"

She raised her head, strangely defiant.

"I'll let my kids starve before I screw you for garbage, bastard!" she spat. "If I'm gonna whore myself out, I'll do it for money, not scraps!"

The man moved towards her. His steps led him under a fire escape-

And then he was snatched from the ground and vanished from the frightened woman's sight- but not from her hearing.

"JESUS CHRIST! Who are YOU?"

A strange, echoing, vicious laugh was the response, followed by the sound of violence and much screaming for help.

The woman scooted backwards and up against a dumpster, hugging herself as the struggle took place somewhere above her. She didn't bother looking to see if anyone in the surrounding buildings were looking from their windows; she kept telling herself to run, to get out of the alley- but her path led under that fire escape, where the screams were coming from.

Then a particularly loud scream, abruptly cut off- then a shapeless body hit the ground in front of her.

Then he landed, catlike, and calmly moved to his stash of food. Taking one of the bags, he turned and tossed it to the woman.

"Go. Now."

His voice was grating, almost inhuman. She stared, frozen, as this man finished filling his bag, unconcerned with the approaching sound of sirens.

She couldn't move.

Finished, he turned to go, then looked at her again.

"Go. Now," he urged again.

He leapt up to the fire escape, and she could hear him making his way up to the roof of the building.

Quickly she scrambled to her feet, grabbing the bag.

"Who are you?" she suddenly shouted, staring up at the sky.

A silhouette appeared above her, to the right, leaning over the edge of the structure. She stood there, staring, as the sirens grew louder and louder.

"Who are you?"

"I am the Monster," he said simply. Then he was gone.