Breaking Boredom
part 4

The gunfire stopped suddenly and the two trapped Turtles lay still, waiting. A beam of light flicked on, its origin undoubtedly from a flashlight. No one attempted to shine the light down the corridor where the brothers hid, instead letting it illuminate the T junction where the two corridors intersected.

"You have fifteen seconds to give up and step into the light," one of the guards called out. "After that, we start shooting again."

"I hate guns," Don whispered to Mikey. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"Couple of times," Mikey said, sliding forward on the carpet.

"Where are you going?" Don hissed.

Mikey opened the garbage bag enough to reach inside. Digging around for a second, he came out with a pressurized can of furniture polish and then tied the bag shut before crawling back to Don.

"Four seconds!" the guard yelled.

"Uh, hang on!" Don said loudly. "I think my brother twisted his ankle!"

"Nice try. Two seconds," the guard said.

Don turned to look at his brother. Mikey had taken one of his kunai from his belt and cut a piece off of his mask tails. Tying it through the ring on the end of the kunai, Mikey glanced at Don and grinned before lobbing the can straight down the corridor. It landed perfectly against the wall of the cross corridor, right out in plain sight.

"Quick, give me your lighter," Mikey said.

"What makes you think I have a lighter?" Don asked him, lifting his eye ridges.

Mikey gave him a surprised look. "Because you're Donatello."

Don grinned. "Darn right I am," he said as he pulled a lighter from his belt.

With a sweep up his thumb, Don flicked the lighter to flame and lit the cloth on the kunai. Mikey immediately threw the weapon towards the can and yelled, "Incoming!"

The tip of the kunai pierced the can and the escaping contents exploded upon contact with the fire. Men started screaming as the corridor turned into a flaming tunnel; the floor, walls, and ceiling ablaze.

Don and Mikey leaped to their feet, wasting no time in pulling the pallet jack away from the scene as quickly as possible. It wouldn't take long for the guards to extinguish the fire and the duo intended to be gone before that happened.

Moving as fast as they could with their heavy and dangerous load, the brothers reached the staircase that would take them into the warehouse. The stairs were too narrow for the pallet jack, so Mikey jumped down to open the door and then Don passed items to him to be carried into the warehouse.

Don kept watch as Mikey ran back and forth, then once everything had been removed, they turned the pallet jack itself on its side and angled it so they could carry it through the door.

Mikey had set his flashlight on the floor to provide them with some illumination. Now he scooped it up as Don secured the door behind them and focused the beam on the pile of things they'd brought in.

His brother's flashlight joined Mikey's for a brief moment and then Don turned his light upward, walking slowly until he'd found the exact location he needed for the explosion to occur.

"Mikey, bring the pallet jack over here," Don said, standing still to mark the spot.

Doing as Don asked, Mikey pulled the pallet jack into location and looked curiously at his brother.

"Gonna burn this up too?" Mikey asked.

"Might as well," Don said. "It's got a battery inside that'll add nicely to our explosion. The wooden pallet will help fuel the fire, but we need to scrounge around for some other flammable things. You take the left side, I'll go right, and let's see what we can come up with."

"Can we do this fast please? The longer we're in here, the better the odds are that Highsmith's goons are gonna find us," Mikey said as he hopped over to his assigned section of the warehouse.

The space was mostly empty, but between them they managed to find a couple of wooden pallets, several cardboard boxes of various sizes, some rolls of shipping paper, a large bundle of old newspapers that had been stacked in a corner, and miscellaneous items of trash.

Once they had layered everything around and over the pallet jack, Don set to work removing items from the garbage sack and arranging them in the pile. There were quite a few pressurized cans in the collection, as well as highly flammable things like furniture polish, floor cleaner, disinfectants, and varnish.

While Don created a design aimed at providing the maximum destructive force possible, Mikey dragged the oxygen tanks over and placed them in specific locations per his brother's instruction.

When they were done, the brothers stepped back and surveyed their handiwork.

"Is that gonna make a big enough explosion?" Mikey asked.

"Oh yes," Don said, nodding his head. "Some of those things by themselves might not do much, but mixing them together will produce a really big bang. It's the way the chemicals react to one another."

"Then the heat from that will explode the cans and oxygen tanks," Mikey observed.

"Just like bottle rockets," Don said with a grin. "It'll send projectiles straight up through the roof and spray the walls with flaming debris."

"Which we won't see 'cause we will be long gone," Mikey said meaningfully.

"Yes Michelangelo, we'll be out of here before the fire gets hot enough to set off the first of the chemical reactions," Don assured him.

"What are you waiting for?" Mikey asked. "Growing old here."

Rolling his eyes, Don shouldered his duffel bag before kneeling next to the burn pile. With a flick of his lighter, he set fire to a group of paper twists strategically placed near bundles of newspaper that had been coated with varnish.

Don moved away and went to stand next to Mikey as he watched the fire slowly begin to grow. Once he was sure that it would not go out, he touched Mikey's arm and pointed towards the door.

"We're making a break for the nearest exit, right?" Mikey asked.

"We can't go back towards the garage, so we'll either have to go out the front door or find an emergency exit along the way," Don said. "You do know they'll probably all be heavily guarded, don't you?"

"I figured that one out on my own Donny, but thanks for sharing," Mikey said.

"Anytime," Don said, grinning at him. "That's what big brothers are for."

Mikey made a face at him as he pushed open the door. When he saw Don's eyes widen, he looked up.

Highsmith and several of his men stood at the top of the staircase, guns pointed right at them.

Ninja reflexes kicked in before conscious thought could and Mikey yanked the door shut. As it slammed into place, gunfire erupted and bullets began to hit the metal door. Fortunately, the door was thick and solid, so the bullets didn't penetrate.

Unfortunately, there was no way to lock the door from the inside. After a moment, the gunfire ceased and they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Gripping the door handle tightly, the brothers felt someone on the other side attempting to pull it open.

"Might as well give up boys," Highsmith said in a loud, gloating voice. "The two of you can't keep this door closed for long."

Don and Mikey looked at each other and then both glanced back at the fire. Flames had discovered the varnish covered newspaper and were greedily consuming it, growing larger by the second.

"What is it that Raph always says?" Mikey asked. "Oh yeah, this night just keeps getting better and better."

A hard tug on the opposite side of the door made them both slide forward as the door momentarily separated from the jamb. Digging in their heels, the pair pulled back, settling the door soundly in its frame once more.

"Can't keep this up," Don said through gritted teeth. "If they get the door open and see the fire, they'll shoot us and leave us here to burn. Or shoot us and put out the fire. Or . . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, got the point," Mikey interrupted. "Any way you look at it opening this door means we get shot. We gotta jam something between the handle and the wall and find another way out of here."

"Jam it with what?" Don asked. "Everything we found in here is on fire."

Mikey looked around the room and then his eyes fell on his brothers weapon.

"Use your bo staff dude," Mikey said.

"No!" Don all but shouted. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to break in a new one?"

"Dead ninjas don't use bo staffs, Donatello," Mikey pointed out. "That fire is getting a whole lot hotter."

The door was nearly jerked out of their hands and it took every bit of muscle they had to keep it closed.

"Oh man," Don said in defeat, preparing to sacrifice his bo staff. "Hold onto the door while I grab my bo and . . . shell, wait! I've got something better. Can you hold the door while I reach into my duffel?"

"Make it fast bro'," Mikey said, "I'm already pulling as hard as I can."

Fast as a snake, Don removed one hand from the door handle and plunged it into his bag, thanking fate that he hadn't zipped it closed. He found what he wanted at the bottom of the bag and pulled it out, swiftly wedging a two foot long metal wrench between the door handle and the wall.

Breathing hard, the brothers stepped back. The wrench held as the men on the other side of the door continued in their attempts to pull it open.

"No wonder that bag is so heavy," Mikey said. "You wouldn't happen to have a car in there too, would you?"

Don laughed. "I'll try to invent one that'll fit for the next time this happens. In the meantime, we're locked in here with an explosion that's ready to go off at any minute."

"Gotta be an emergency exit in here someplace," Mikey yelled as he started running towards the back of the warehouse.

Racing after him, Don heard a small snapping sound come from the burning pile of debris. The fire was covering nearly every part of the pyre he'd created and he knew they didn't have long before the pressurized cans began to explode. Once that began to happen, the biggest explosion would occur mere seconds later.

Mikey's triumphant yelp drew his attention back to his brother and he saw that Mikey had changed course, having spotted an emergency exit in a far corner of the warehouse.

"No!" Mikey yelled upon reaching the double doors. "No, no, no!"

Don caught up to him just as Mikey started kicking the doors. A heavy metal chain was wrapped through the door handles and held closed by a gigantic combination lock.

"Isn't it against the law to seal an emergency exit?" Mikey asked as Don examined the lock.

"You can add that to the charges against Highsmith if we ever get out of here," Don said as he turned the lock over and looked at the back.

"If you still had your giant wrench you could break one of the handles off," Mikey said.

"Why don't you run back there and get it for me?" Don told him absently, reaching into his belt for his lock picking kit.

"You know Donny, you can be a little vicious when it comes to life or death situations," Mikey told him darkly.

A loud pop made Mikey cringe and he looked back to see fire shoot up about eight feet into the air and then scatter in several directions as metal debris rained down around the center of the warehouse.

"Whatever you're doing, you'd better do it faster," Mikey urged.

"You're not helping," Don said, concentrating on working the tumblers through the tiny hole in the back of the lock.

An even louder crack sounded behind them and bits of shrapnel fell from a ten foot fire plume, some of it landing close to the brothers. The flames had become a raging inferno and pressurized cans were shooting off like fireworks.

"Don~ny . . . ." Mikey sang, his foot tapping impatiently as he looked back and forth between his brother and the fire.

"Got it!" Don chortled, ripping the combination lock free from the chain.

Together they grabbed the chain and unwound it from the door handles. Another loud bang made them look at each other and then a high-sounding hiss began to echo throughout the warehouse.

"Faster!" Don urged, pulling at the chain frantically.

Mikey tore the last of it from the handles and together they pushed through the doors. From behind them the hiss turned into a shrill whistle and the brothers lunged forward into a dead run.

The explosion as the oxygen tanks finally overheated was deafening. Don and Mikey threw themselves onto a grassy berm next to the pavement outside and covered their heads as the resounding concussion from the explosion blasted the air.

Behind them, heavy parts of the oxygen tanks and the pallet jack burst through the roof, falling heavily into the parking lot. Fire spurted up through the opening and then came down to eat at the old asphalt roof shingles.

Alarms were ringing throughout the complex and as the explosions diminished, the Turtles could hear men shouting. Quickly jumping to their feet, Don and Mikey darted into the cover of heavy shrubbery near the fence line.

The entire parking lot was lit brightly by the fire. The exit they'd found put the brothers at the far back of the building complex and they carefully made their way up towards the street where they'd first come in on top of the truck.

Don figured four minutes had passed when he heard the first sirens. He looked at Mikey and grinned, receiving a thumbs up in reply.

Before they could decide on their next step, voices sounded nearby and they both instinctively ducked.

"I don't care," Highsmith was saying in a shrill voice. "Tell them you haven't seen me; tell them I wasn't here today."

"But sir, the fire marshal will insist we try to reach you," a man responded, the worry in his tone obvious.

"Then try to reach me," Highsmith snapped. "It won't be your fault if I don't answer the damn phone. Give me the briefcase."

"He's making a run for it," Mikey whispered.

"I'll bet that briefcase contains all kinds of incriminating evidence," Don whispered back.

"We gonna let him go?" Mikey asked.

"Shell no," Don said with determination.

Through the bushes they could see Highsmith standing next to a dark blue Cadillac, the windows nearly opaque. Two armed guards were with him and neither looked very happy.

"The fire's contained in that empty warehouse," one of the guards said. "It shouldn't take long to put out."

"Wonderful," Highsmith said sarcastically. "I've got clients to call and I can't do that with firemen hanging all over me. You deal with them so I can deal with the people who pay our salaries."

It was obvious to the two brothers that Highsmith was lying through his teeth and by the expression on the man's face, the guard knew it too.

"Is the side gate open?" Highsmith asked.

"Yes sir," the guard answered.

Pulling his nunchucks from his belt, Mikey waggled his eye ridges at Don. In response, Don shrugged his bag off of his shoulder and grabbed his bo staff.

"Count of three," Mikey said. "One, two, three."

Breaking cover, the ninjas dashed across the pavement, staying low to the ground and silent. With a giant leap, Mikey hurtled onto the hood of the car, sliding across the slick metal on his rump. Nunchucks swinging, he brought one down to club the startled guard's hand as the man reached for his weapon. With the other, Mikey cracked the man on the side of his head and knocked him out cold.

In a near simultaneous move, Don vaulted over the trunk of the car, his bo staff spinning like a propeller. The second guard spun towards him, a heavy flashlight in his hand that he swung at Don. With the end of his bo, Don rapped the guard's fingers hard, making him drop his makeshift weapon and then Don brought the other end of the bo down against the back of the man's knees.

As the guard started to fall, Don popped him on the back of his head and sent him to dreamland. A gasp behind him turned Don around and he saw Highsmith fumbling to pull something from the back of his waistband.

The end of the bo came over almost faster than the eye could see and Don caught Highsmith beneath his chin, forcing the man's head up and back. Almost in the same instant, Mikey cracked Highsmith's elbow with his nunchuck, making the man shriek as his arm dropped uselessly to his side.

Tires screeched to a halt on the other side of the building, sirens fading out as the emergency vehicles began to arrive. The tableau around Highsmith's car lasted for another minute before Mikey walked around in front of the man and punched him right in the face.

Highsmith's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crumpled. Don flipped his bo staff onto his back and looked at his brother.

"Feel better now?" Don asked.

"Shell yeah," Mikey said, mimicking his brother's earlier answer. "Dude has a glass jaw."

"That's good," Don said, "because we don't have time to wait around here."

"Were you planning on walking all the way home?" Mikey asked. "I'll bet the shell cells work now."

Don turned and looked at the Cadillac, his mouth spreading into a broad smile. Mikey caught the direction of his glance and did a double take.

"Dude," Mikey said almost breathlessly. "Can we? Please, please say we can."

In answer, Don opened the driver's side door, picking up Highsmith's briefcase before sliding behind the wheel. Mikey ran around to the other side of the car, darting over to grab Don's duffel bag off the ground, and then he jumped in beside his brother.

As Don started the car with keys that were already in the ignition, Mikey tossed the duffel bag into the back seat and nodded at the briefcase. "What are you gonna do with that?"

"Turn it over to the authorities," Don said, the smile still plastered firmly on his face.

Mikey frowned at him and said, "Did those fumes get to you bro'? I hope you aren't planning on walking up to a fireman and handing that briefcase over."

"Not quite," Don said enigmatically as he deftly spun the steering wheel to swing the car in amongst the parked emergency vehicles.

All of the fire department personnel were battling the blaze and hadn't as yet been joined by any law enforcement. When Don spotted a car labeled "District Investigator" he pulled up alongside it and rolled down his window.

Picking the briefcase up off the seat, he leaned far over and tossed it into the other car. Pressing the button to roll up the window, Don pulled away quickly, looking for the side gate that Highsmith had mentioned.

Mikey turned around and watched behind them through the rear window but it appeared that no one had the slightest interest in their car. When Don located the side gate, he drove through it onto a bumpy gravel road that ran parallel to the paved one which led to the containment building.

Straightening on his seat, Mikey glanced to the left and saw police vehicles driving towards the scene of the fire they'd set. Don was keeping the car at a moderate pace to avoid bottoming out on the unimproved back road and to prevent dust from giving them away.

Concentrating on making their getaway, neither brother spoke. Then the silence was broken by a buzzing sound.

Mikey practically leaped off the seat before he realized it was his shell cell. Don glanced at him and they both burst into laughter.

"Aw man," Mikey said as he fought to find his voice, "you think we're in hot water?"

Don inhaled deeply and said, "We will be if you don't answer that phone."

Pulling it from his belt, Mikey looked at it then at Don. "What'll I say?" he asked.

"Just tell him we're safe and on the way home," Don said. "We'll explain the rest later, after we find a place to dump the car. If you try to tell him the story now, we won't get to enjoy this fine ride."

Mikey settled against the leather upholstery and sighed. As he flipped open the phone, Don reached forward and turned the radio on low, the rich sound system filling the car with sweetly relaxing music.

It was a nice, if fleeting reward for their labors. While Mikey talked to Leo, he lifted a hand towards his brother. Don laughed softly and brought his up as well, celebrating their victory with a high three.

Don decided that a short detour to an all-night drive-thru wouldn't be all that bad of an idea either.

THE END