i_speak_softly | Nineteenth Theory [Action]

Don!

Edited 2010-06-19 15:27 (UTC)

[He'll pause and wait for Winry to catch up.]

Winry.

Oh, Don, I'm so glad you're-

Are you alright?

[Seeming a little surprised at the intensity of the question.] I'm fine. How are you?

I'm fine too-

Don, have you taken a look at yourself?

[Looks down.] I don't see anything.

Don, you have just returned from the Malnosso, and your arm is...

[Follows Winry's finger with his eyes.] Oh, that. Just a minor procedure.

[The marks are more numerous than Winry would probably like to see, but they're as neat as anything Don would do to himself or his brothers at home. No bandaging necessary.]

Minor? You're covered in these.

It was necessary.

Necessary? Donatello this is outrageous! What is it for?

For the Malnosso's experiments. [Obviously.]

How can you act like that's okay!?

Why wouldn't it be? We're all scientists. Collaboration is the essence of the discipline.

Have you lost your mind? You're not some lab rat, or a car motor! You're a person, Don. You shouldn't be treated like that!

[Aha. Misunderstanding identified.] On my world it's perfectly common to use people as subjects in certain kinds of experiments. ... Isn't that the case in your world too? How do you test new kinds of automail?

[Apparently not noticing her reaction.] I was glad to be of assistance.

Why? Did they ask your permission? Do they care about your well being? Don, they took you away from your home, and then your brothers, and you think that's okay? That you should just let them do this to you?

[Slooooow headtilt. Doesn't she get it?] It's for science, Winry. It's for the greater good.

No, Don! Some science isn't like that at all! Especially this kind!

Why do you say that? You don't even know what they were researching.

Maybe not! But what I do know is they hurt you! And that's not right! Not right at all!

It doesn't hurt.

[Don just stands there like a board. Given that turtles are naturally stiff to begin with, this is probably the least warm and friendly hug Winry has ever had.]

I guess I'll see you around, Don.

[Don seems completely indifferent to whether Winry continues talking to him or not. When she turns away, he just starts walking again, along the path to C6.]

[Don might encounter Jack Sparrow in the forest. He's staring very intently at a particular tree.

...

He's also holding a chainsaw.]

[He'll pause briefly as he passes you. He's not really in a hurry, after all.]

Hello, Captain.

Turtle! Hello to you as well. What think you of this tree? [Pointing. That tree. No, not that one--THAT one.]

Edited 2010-06-19 18:48 (UTC)

[Considering the tree.]

It's a specimen of Quercus robur, the English Oak. I would estimate it's about seventy years old. I'm no expert on shipbuilding, but it looks like it would make an excellent mainmast.

Splendid! That were what I was thinking as well. Great minds, eh?

[Jack starts and then revs his chainsaw; he'll speak louder over the rumble of the motor.]

And what are we doing out in the forest today? ["We" meaning Don]

So they say.

[Gestures down the path.] I was walking home.

Oh! Been out and about in pursuit of your turtle-y enterprises? Buildin' more playgrounds what are sadly lacking in the bouncing and funning departments, respectively?

[Completely matter-of-fact:] No, I was with the Malnosso.

[At the hated name, the pirate abruptly hits the kill switch on his new toy. Wiping grease-stained fingers on his trousers, he gives Donatello a searching look. One hand is ready to draw a dagger from his belt. Is the turtle then a Malnosso spy? What is the nature of this "withness," anyway?]

You were with those...them?

[Don sees that dagger, and feels fairly confident that he could break Jack's wrist before the Captain was able to inflict any damage.]

Yes. They required my assistance.

[Yes. And what a shame that would be, considering Jack's misunderstanding of the situation. He shifts so that his fingers rest on the hilt.]

That's a bloody shame, lad. Didn't figure you to be the kind to sell out innocent folk like the Village People.

[Also failing to understand.]

[Don shifts in such a way as to make it obvious that he is carrying a bo staff and could draw it in a fraction of a second.] It was a simple experiment. I have been invaluable to their research.

[Jack does notice and removes his hand from the dagger. He begins to take a different tone.]

And what might this research be, then? A way out?

Edited 2010-06-19 23:54 (UTC)

I'm not sure. I was only the subject, not the investigator.

[Oh. Jack stares at the turtle, only seeing the scar still visible across a certain girl's body. Experiments. He takes a tentative step toward Donatello.]

And, these Malnosso--did they gut you, too? Then put everything back in and sew you up, like?

No, of course not. They aren't barbarians.

Well what DID they do? [He's looking Don over curiously, but can't quite see the marks from this angle/range.]

A simple associational study.

[At this point, it's fairly clear that Jack is willing to stay and hear the whole tale, which so far he doesn't understand at ALL because in his mind, the Malnosso are barbarians. He seats himself on a sawn-off stump, pulls out the dagger, flips it once, and then jams the blade into the ground in front of him.]

What's that, then.

An associational study? A standard experimental procedure for elucidating psychological correlations.

I'm guessin' you didn't correlate. Because you're actin' like...

[The turtle's behavior certainly is strange. He's not making any attempt to dress Jack down for whatever perceived injuries the pirate has done him in the past, for one. In fact, he's acting...civil. And...wordy. -er.

... I don't think I understand how you're using that word.

Mate, I can tell your "psychological" isn't on the right heading, so to speak, from the mere fact you're not yelling things at me in a defensive and/or angry fashion.

In other words, or in question-form I suppose---are you mad?

No, I'm not. [Pause.] Is there something unusual about that?

[A patient, explaining tone.]

Yes. Because I believe you hate me, savvy? These Malnosso, they've sucked away your savage essence and replaced it with...with........

Porridge.

You're mistaken, Captain. I don't hate you, and I certainly don't have a 'savage essence'.

Porridge? Yes. They've given you porridge-y mental innards. Look there--

[He points at the faint marks on Don's arm]

Yes, I know. They're injection marks. [And not for porridge. Don doesn't have too much confidence in Jack's knowledge of modern medicine, but he's not in a mood to explain.]

So how's it make you feel? Were it as awful as they say?

[He doesn't care WHAT Donatello says--the turtle is acting strange and he'd almost be happy for a beatdown from the grumpy turtle he'd harassed before. Anything other than this strange...placidity.]

I feel fine. It's just a few needles.

...

[Jack picks up the dagger and leaps to his feet, threateningly.]

RIGHT. Who are you and what have you done with our grumpy fun-hating turtle friend?

[This is Don taking a step back and getting ready to defend himself. Why are you coming at him with a knife, Captain?]

Raphael? I haven't seen him yet. I just got back.

[Because, obviously, Jack is mistaking him for someone else who does have a savage essence.]

Edited 2010-06-22 02:06 (UTC)

[Oddly enough, Jack finds Raphael more cheerful than Don. Circling slowly.]

Not--not that one, not the one at the smithy. YOU. Erm, him. The other you, the one what made the playground, savvy?

[Don pivots, keeping Jack in his sights.] Yes, I'm him.

Prove it!

Prove it? [Blink.] The plans for the large playfort call for 219 screws. The small jungle gym is at two/thirds scale to the larger one. The length of the swing radius is seven feet. The circumference of the merry-go-round is 20.41 feet. ... This is assuming my directions were followed accurately. [He pulls his journal from his belt.] Do you want to see the drafts?

[Jack rather reluctantly backs down] Alright, then. Just odd seein' someone acting so cooperative when it comes to being prodded by those bastards.

[Don relaxes too, as the knife is lowered.] Many geniuses are misunderstood by the people they're trying to help.

[What]

And many madmen are mistaken for geniuses...

[The problem doesn't seem to concern him much.] Either way.

By that calculation, I'm a genius, mate.

Congratulations.

Look--[He can't believe he is saying this, especially as there is nothing in it for him.]--do you need anything? Aid? Escort? Swift slap on the face?

[Shrug.] You can walk with me, if you like.

[Not really, but now he feels obligated, and shoulders his chainsaw in answer.]

Just to the edge of the village.

Or you could stay and work on your mast. [Or give him your life savings, punch him in the face, chainsaw your own head off, start singing the lumberjack song... all the same to him.]

Or I could cut your blasted head off here and now and solve all of our problems! [Jack will continue walking in spite of this remark. He doesn't really mean it; but he finds this strange new version of the turtle that hates taxidermy so much very off-putting.]

Edited 2010-06-25 00:28 (UTC)

[Walks for a while, silently. Then:] I'm not sure I see quite which problems would be solved by my violent decapitation.

Does that thing go into the shell at all? [Gesturing toward Donny's head.]

It's just...you're too....

[Blink. Strange question, but hey, if you're curious...] Only this far. [His neck "accordions" until his head is nestled between his shoulders, then pops up again.] Ordinary turtles can do it because their shoulders are inside their ribcage, but we made the trade-off for increased joint mobility. [Because obviously you wanted to know all that.]

[And time for a question of his own.] I'm too what?

Too...with the calm acceptance. About those Malnosso scum, savvy? You should be ravin' about, threatening to poke them all into the grave with that there big stick of yours. Not holding 'em up to holy heaven as beacons o' genius. I may not know genius, lad, but I know mad brutality when it hits me between the eyes.

[All this followed by a swig of rum from a convenient flask.]

[Reaches up to touch his bo, as if making sure it's still there.] I don't think they're scum or saints. Just scientists.

Scum. Scum what does this "science" you're so over the moon about. What you need, lad--and I'm saying this purely in your interest--what you need is to maraud a bit. Snap you right out of whatever they've done you for, savvy?

'Maraud'? Is that like going on patrol? I've taken some late-night walks here, Captain, and there's never much of interest happening.

...

You mean you're telling me that you equate proper marauding with...with..."midnight walks"?

Well, with the kind of midnight walk where the primary purpose is to look for other midnight walkers who may be in need of assistance, so you can do a good deed before vanishing back into the shadows.

Well that's rather mad, isn't it?

... Come to think of it, it is a lot of effort - and risk - for a stranger. I don't know why we bother.

What do you mean by 'maraud'?

It might be a bit like your midnight walk, where the primary purpose is to look for other midnight walkers what to attack and hold at swordpoint until they hand over all their valuables. Alternatively, it's a midnight walk in which a fair wench is kidnapped and held for ransom.

Or we just sack a port.

But then--yes, vanish back into the shadows. Yes, that's a big part of any successful marauding.

That's... not exactly how my family does it. In fact, that sounds like exactly the kind of thing my family looks for in order to intervene and put a stop to it.

[Walking, thinking.] I feel we should be enemies, Captain.

Yes! Right! Enemies! That's the turtle I so happily remember. He's coming back to himself, eh? Knew the Malnosso couldn't work their dark magical science on you for too long. Knew you'd bounce back, lad.

... Are you saying that we are enemies? [Please wait, soul-searching.] But I don't hate you. And you aren't acting like you hate me. [Thinks some more.] I'll concede that we have contrary habits, and that this might prevent us from being friends, but I think enemies is too strong a word.

[Also thinking, now.]

I don't think I exactly hate anyone, anymore. Well, the British Navy, but rarely on an individual level. Still have a rather long list of enemies, as lists of enemies go. You'd be in good company if you chose that route.

Perhaps we might have a turtle-pirate alliance, and you won't kill me, and I won't attempt to build anything for you, and we'll get along smashingly in a "don't come too close to me" sort of way.

[Considers this.] That sounds okay to me.

Suppose it might be alright, just. Until you get completely normal-like again, and remember that....

Suppose it might be alright.

[He'll continue walking, maybe giving you a bit of an odd look at your strange ramblings.]

Your brother will be glad to see you I expect. [Approaching the end of his journey with his new not-friend-not-enemy]

[Stops at the edge of the village; this is as far as Jack said he would go.]

Yes, I'm sure he's been waiting for me to continue my work on the Key.

[Little wave-salute.] I'll see you around, Captain.

Key...........

Uh, yes. Around.

[His eyes have gone a bit vague, and he'll just stand there swaying slightly as Don leaves.]

[Don will just continue on his way. He doesn't look back.]

[ And it's not to say Casey's been keeping an extra eye on your place, Don, of course not, except for how he has been- and so maybe he felt the need to stop on the way home from derping around outside, because he might have just heard something. Seemingly empty apartments never seem to last long around here, see.

Long story short, there is a man in your living room prepared to defend your homestead. ]

[In his workroom, ignoring your presence. Check out the strange noises?]

[ Honing in. Workroom is extra taboo right now. LARGE MAN BREAKING INTO ROOM. ]

Goongala!

[Don looks up sharply from his desk, then regards the crazed vigilante expressionlessly.] Casey. You surprised me.

Oh, it's just you, Don-

... Don?

[ Dude. Oh my god wait, it's you.

He's going for the bear hug, you know. ARE YOUR REFLEXES ENOUGH TO AVOID IT? ]

DONNIE!

[Don is forcibly hugged. He'll return the embrace rather unenthusiastically.] ... Casey?

Yeah, we been worried sick about you! [ He'll let go, don't worry.

OH YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE A GOOD PLAN. brb, journals abound. ]

Hey guys! Get your shells back to your place, Don's back!

[As soon as Casey turns away to yell into his journal, Don returns to whatever he was doing at his desk.]

[Raph doesn't even bother answering; that'd take too much time. No, instead he's gonna book it like a bat out of hell, calling frantically for Leo before charging down the stairs and to the apartment without even checking if his brother's following behind. He flings open the door with all the usual melodrama.]

Don?

[And Leo is hot on Raph's heels, his stomach flipping wildly as he all but leaps down the stairs - a trace of fear that still lingers, maybe, but just as easily fear for Don. He slips by Raph as soon as the door is opened, reaching for the recently returned's shoulder.] Donnie?

[Glances up from his work.] Yes? ["Yes" in the sense of "Why are you all interrupting me while I'm working, you had better have an important question."]

[Raph hesitates, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Something about this is just Not Right. Figures.]

...You're back.

[Hardly a ground-breaking discovery, Raph.] Did you want something?

[He stares at Don a few seconds more before sending a look of distraught masked with irritation in Leo's direction.]

What? No...

Ain'tcha happy to be back? You've been gone over a week.

[Something is definitely Not Right. Leo shares that look with Raph before retrieving his hand, skepticism creeping into his voice as he frowns at their brother.]

...Are you all right, Donatello?

[No? Then why did you burst in as though you were on a mission of the utmost urgency?]

Was I? I'm behind in my work, then.

[To Leo:] I'm fine, thank you.

Well you sure ain't actin' fine.

[Ignoring Raph because he makes no sense. Still to Leo:] I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?

[This. Is very weird. Leonardo's eyes flick from Don to Raph and back again. It has to be a side-effect from the Malnosso's experiments, but - it's like they only left a shell -]

[For now he'll play along. Maybe he can feel out exactly what's going on here.]

I'm...fine. [And hey, he actually means it this time.] How long have you been back?

Mm... [He surveys the room, trying to gauge how long he's been there by how much progress he's made in cleaning it up.] An hour, maybe. Has Raph told you about our plan?

[He stops himself from reflexively glancing back at Raphael. Whatever they cooked up while he was gone can wait.]

Donatello, listen to me. Are you injured? [Pause.] What did they do to you?

No, I'm fine. [Ignore those marks all over his arms; they're only superficial.] They - [His gaze unfocuses for a moment, then comes back.] - showed me pictures. [He busies himself with the dismantled pieces on his desk. Conversationally:] What about you?

[The showed him pictures? What?]

Okay, wait. Seems you're misunderstandin' the word, here.

Leo is fine. [Really starting to hate that word by now. Raph storms over and catches Don by the arm with a bit of unnecessary force, tearing him away from his workspace and holding the track marks out for Leo to see.] This ain't fine. So cut the crap! What'd they do, give you a freakin' lobotomy!?

[Whoa! Okay. Why the manhandling, Raph?]

[He traces a finger over the marks on his arm.] Independent variables. Nothing irreversible.

Nineteenth Theory [Action]

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And thus the Rainman of Luceti is born

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