Donatello wasn't looking for trouble, but he was looking for Bass.
He'd shadowed the man's footsteps since he'd run across him wandering - no, not wandering, there was definite purpose in his steps - the halls.
Bass was headed to Carnival.
Don couldn't, of course, know this for certain. He didn't make it a habit to wander in the direction of Carnival, and had only bothered with it to mark it on his mental map before leaving it be. Still. The path was vaguely familiar. And that worried Don.
It felt too much like confronting an enemy on their own territory, honestly, if he ended up having to follow Bass into that apaprent death trap. A hostile place for what Don was hoping would be only a simple talk.
So, Don had three choices. He could follow Bass and see if he veered away from Carnival, he could leave and hope that he ran into him at a later date (which, really, wasn't much of an option considering Don was just angry enough to want a confrontation), or he could make himself known now.
Bass stiffened, but didn't turn. He automatically ran an analysis to the voice; Donatello.
Either Michelangelo was the shittiest ninja to live, or this guy was much, much better. Bass hadn't even heard him. Sometimes he hated not having that "sixth sense" thing humans babbled on about. It'd definitely help with the whole "not getting blindsided" thing.
Not that Donatello would be much of a threat... but he could tell his brothers. If all three of them ganged up on Bass, he wouldn't be able to resolve the situation without getting rough. He also didn't know how good they were, so he wasn't even sure he'd be able to take all three of them at once. Well...on one level he was sure, because of course he could, but experience pointed out that he'd been bested and overwhelmed before by lesser opponents and the weak hunt in packs. More could show up.
After only a second of contemplation, he slowly turned around and set an even stare on the turtle. "Donatello."
At the sound of his name, Don lifted his hands slightly from his side in a gesture of peace and stepped a bit away from the wall he'd been keeping close to.
He was careful to keep his body language neutral and as non-aggressive as he could, though his eyes were still hard and one arm remained instinctively tensed in preparation to draw the staff strapped at his back.
"You do know why I want to talk to you, don't you? Or would you prefer we deal with pleasantries first?"
Comments 61
He'd shadowed the man's footsteps since he'd run across him wandering - no, not wandering, there was definite purpose in his steps - the halls.
Bass was headed to Carnival.
Don couldn't, of course, know this for certain. He didn't make it a habit to wander in the direction of Carnival, and had only bothered with it to mark it on his mental map before leaving it be. Still. The path was vaguely familiar. And that worried Don.
It felt too much like confronting an enemy on their own territory, honestly, if he ended up having to follow Bass into that apaprent death trap. A hostile place for what Don was hoping would be only a simple talk.
So, Don had three choices. He could follow Bass and see if he veered away from Carnival, he could leave and hope that he ran into him at a later date (which, really, wasn't much of an option considering Don was just angry enough to want a confrontation), or he could make himself known now.
"Bass."
And now it was.
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Either Michelangelo was the shittiest ninja to live, or this guy was much, much better. Bass hadn't even heard him. Sometimes he hated not having that "sixth sense" thing humans babbled on about. It'd definitely help with the whole "not getting blindsided" thing.
Not that Donatello would be much of a threat... but he could tell his brothers. If all three of them ganged up on Bass, he wouldn't be able to resolve the situation without getting rough. He also didn't know how good they were, so he wasn't even sure he'd be able to take all three of them at once. Well...on one level he was sure, because of course he could, but experience pointed out that he'd been bested and overwhelmed before by lesser opponents and the weak hunt in packs. More could show up.
After only a second of contemplation, he slowly turned around and set an even stare on the turtle. "Donatello."
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He was careful to keep his body language neutral and as non-aggressive as he could, though his eyes were still hard and one arm remained instinctively tensed in preparation to draw the staff strapped at his back.
"You do know why I want to talk to you, don't you? Or would you prefer we deal with pleasantries first?"
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