The Dude from Downunder

Lemme tell ya a story.

It was the dark, silent early hour of a New York morning. The time of day when the only people you're likely to meet are the kind whose paths you wouldn't want to cross in a dark alley.

But a dark alley is exactly where my story begins, and in the company of the kind of people you really wouldn't want to know. The slid from shadow to shadow along the alley, finally coming together in an assigned meeting that's gone horribly wrong, for while one of the parties involved had the money agreed upon and the other has the goods, they are the wrong goods. The man with the money had a poor sense of humour and a sharp little knife. He slammed the suitcase shut and flicked the knife into the other man's throat. A second too late the man with the knife was brought down by a blow from a bo.

Leonardo nudged at the knifed man with he foot. "Dead," he pronounced.

Donatello stooped to pick up his bo from beside the other man. "If only I'd been a second quicker,  I could have brought this guy down before the threw the knife."

"Nah," said Raphael. "You just should have thrown the bo harder and killed this one too. It would have done everyone a favour. We could have got rid of two drug pushers for the price of one."

"We'll just tie this one up and leave him for the police, I think," Leonardo decided.

Michelangelo picked up the two suitcases and swung them. "What about this stuff? Should we leave this on the scene for the police, too?"

"It's tempting," said Leonardo, "but it would probably walk before they got here. We'll take it back to the sewer and dispose of it."

"Sewer's the best place for it," Donatello agreed.


Michelangelo practiced his juggling with the suitcases as he carried them back to their lair in the sewer. He laid them on the table side by side and flicked the catches on one case. It opened to reveal layers and layers of twenty dollar notes. He gave a low whistle. "That's an awesome number of pizzas."

Raphael uttered a squawk and covered Mike's eyes. "Don't look! That's a frightening number of pizzas. Even you couldn't eat that many."

"Yeah, but I'd like to try..."

Leonardo snapped the case shut again. "But of course we'll be returning the money to its
rightful owner."

"Of course," said Raphael effusively. "The drug baron who was buying this stuff will be wondering what happened to it."

"Well...the police," said Leonardo.

"If we can find a clean police officer," said Donatello morosely. "I'm sure there are plenty of them around. We'll just draft up a questionnaire capped off by an essay question; "What
makes me a Clean Cop."

"All right, all right," snapped Leonardo. "So it's not so easy. Cheez, I never thought I'd have trouble getting rid of large amounts of money."

Michelangelo popped the case open again and gazed at the sea of green. "I keep telling you, leave it up to me, I'll take care of it, no problemo."

"Just shut the suitcase will you, Mike," muttered Leo.

Splinter  gazed thoughtfully at the cash. "I think April might be able to help with some suggestion of what can be done with the money.  Perhaps some charity?"

Raphael glared at the second case. "Well, no guessing what's in here..." He picked it up and hefted it, swinging round and round like a baseball, preparing to pitch it into the sewer. "...And he's winding up for the big pitch..." Just as he was about to release the case it suddenly began to emit an unearthly screeching sound. He dropped the case in surprise.

"What happened?" said Mike.

"It screamed at me," said Raphael looking fearfully at the inert suitcase.

"Maybe it contains some sort of alarm mechanism," suggested Donatello.

"Well it alarmed me, all right," muttered Raphael.

"You want to open it up?" said Leonardo, poking it tentatively with a sword.

"Good idea," said Donatello. "It could be dangerous, those things can sometimes be armed. It might blow up and hurt somebody."

Raphael took a large step backward. "Oh, great. Well, you open it up. I'll go get us some
pizza for supper. See you in a couple of hours. Or a couple of pieces."

Donatello crouched down over the case and began to work on the latch. There was a hush about the lair that made it feel like an operating room. From time to time Donatello would extend one hand and request a tool: "tweezers, toothpick, hairpin, string, nail file, crochet hook..." One at a time to tools were deposited into his open palm. With a final "snap" the latches on the case popped open. No one seemed to be breathing.

Donatello's voice broke the silence, "well, whatever it is, it isn't armed, and I don't think it will explode." He began to ease the lid open and suddenly the screeching noise split the air again. Three turtles hit the floor while Donatello was left staring eye to eye with a stark white face capped by a shock of yellow hair which all seemed to be standing on end. There was a big black beak in the middle of the white face and in a flash the beak was open and biting Donatello fiercely on the nose.

Donatello let out a mighty yell and the others looked up to see him leaping about batting at a large sulphur-crested cockatoo which was hanging fron his nose. "Gedid off!" Donatello pleased. He danced about batting at the cocky. Its wings had been taped to its sides, but with all Donatello's attempts to free his nose, the tape was dislodged. The cocky relented on his nose and flew up to the ceiling of the lair where it perched on a small pipe. It glared at them from its high perch and spent its time alternately preening its feathers and screaming belligerently at the turtles. Donatello held his bruised and bloody nose and wiped tears of pain from his eyes.

"You were wrong," said Michelangelo. "It was armed." He peeked cautiously into the case and a clooection of beady eyes peered back at him. He could see other birds in there; pink galahs, red and green rosellas, the pretty hues of princess parrots. "There's a whole mess of em in there."

"In a range of designer colours," said Raphael who had been looking over his shoulder.

"Why would anyone pack a parakeet in a port?" said Donatello.

"A port?" Mike frowned.

Don shrugged. "Alliteration."

"Black market animal dealers," said April O'Neill.

The turtles turned and grinned. "Hi, April!"

Splinter bowed. "April. You know something about the fate of these unfortunate creatures?"

"Just a coincidence. Strange but true, I've been researching the whole business for a story. Birds and animals are poached from the wild and sold for a high price to private collectors."

Donatello still felt rather sorry for his nose. "You know anything about these murderers?" he said, indicating the cocky perched above them. The bird screeched and flared its crest at him.
"Yeah, you too!" grumbled Donatello. "I wish I had a baretta."

April studied the bird for a moment. "That's a sulphur crested cockatoo from Australia. Very
common there but an illegal export. Worth a fortune on the black market."

Splinter nodded sadly. "So these birds have all been packed in the suitcase for many hours, at least, assuming they have come straight from Australia."

"Yes. The poacher probably brought them across for a specific buyer. The most amazing thing about these ones is that they all seem to be alive and in reasonable condition. Usually most of them die in transit."

Donatello began to feel some pity for the cocky. "Gee, I'm sorry. You probably feel worse than I do."

"I think I know somebody who can probably help here," said Raphael.

"Galatea and her magic potions," nodded Leo.

Raph nodded. "I'll go get her."

April reached into the case. "Let's get them out, let them stretch their wings a bit."

"Wait a minute!" yelled Leo. He disappeared into the lair and came back a few moments later with a large, battered old bird cage and a pair of oven gloves.

"Where did the cage come from?" said April.

Don shook his head sadly. "You'd be amazed some of the stuff that gets flushed down these sewers."

April carefully lifted each bird out of the case, removed the tape from its wings and placed it carefully in the cage. None of them were as perky as the cocky that had bitten Don. Some were unable to even stand, they simply lay on the bottom of the cage.

"Poor things," said Mike sadly.

Splinter agreed. "What a life they have to face; to be caged forever."

Donatello watched as April removed the last bird. He lifted the case and found it curiosly heavy. He peered closely at the apparently empty case and then began to prize up the base. "Hey, look, the suitcase has a false bottom, there must be more underneath."

"Mind your nose, Don," said Leo.

The second compartment was insulated and cool. When the lid was completely removed it revealed the mailed bodies of snakes and lizards all coiled around cold packs. Donatello reached in and gently lifted one of the lizards up, admiring its colouring. He placed the lizard carefully on the table.

April leapt back with a horrified look on her face. "Eeeeew! Snakes and lizards! Oh yuk! Eeew! Take it away. I hate reptiles!" The turtles looked at her with rather hurt expressions. "Well I don't mean you guys," she added lamely. The turtles said nothing. Of course they knew she hadn't meant to hurt them, buy why let a mere fact stand in the way of giving a friend a hard time?  April gave a little laugh. "I mean, you're practically human!"

"Oh, April," said Mike sadly, "and I thought you were our friend."

Donatello looked devastated, "First she insults us..."

"And then she insults you some more..." said Leonardo


Raphael found Galatea asleep in the sun in her flower garden. As he arrived he saw something moving through the haze of blossom-covered branches. A large white beast, moving without sound moved away and vanished. Raphael frowned, Galatea was always talking about unicorns, but that was just silly. He ruffled the fuzz of hair on Galatea's head. "Hey, Galatea, wake up."

"Whozzat? Oh. Hi, Raph. I wasn't asleep. I was just getting some sun on my eyelids."

"Yeah. Sure."

"Social call?"

"Afraid not. We need your help."

"What can I do?"

"Get your little black bag with its rescue remedy and anything else you use on hurt birds and bring it back to the lair."

"All the way to the lair?"

"That's where the action is." He offered her a hand to get up and they wandered back to her ramshackle house.

"It's just that I'm still kind of run down myself, you know." She had recovered surprisingly well from the huge dose of radiation she'd received while repairing broken cannisters on the bottom of the ocean. Her hair had grown back in a light fuzz and she was thinner and paler and somehow less energetic. Still, she had survived.

"You're lucky to be alive."

"That, too. Well, I just don't travel all that well. Can we get to the lair through town instead of walking the sewers?"

"Well, yes, but I have this aversion to public transport."

"Not a problem! Pack all those bottles and things into here." She handed him a beat-up looking back-back and indicated a shelf full of colourful bottles and potions, all with homemade labels on them. While he packed the bottles she began to dress, pulling on an apparently random assortment of clothes. There was a pair of jeans (almost intact), two socks (one long, one short, different colours, and with hardly any holes.) Finally she pulled on a pair of knee-length leather boots, a brand new black leather jacket that looked as if it could easily have been ordered from a bondage catalogue, a black balaclava, black helmet, dark glasses and black leather gloves.

Raphael laughed when he caught the full effect. "Which bank are you planning to rob? Hey, I thought you had an aversion to wearing lots of protective clothing."

Galatea shrugged. "I just can't get around much on foot these days, so I figured a little set of wheels wouldn't kill me. And well, there's a bit of a difference between what can happen if you get rained on, and the kind of terminal gravel rash you get from coming off a bike at 60mph.
Besides, I'm kinky for leather. You don't mind riding pillion do you?"

"I'll live."

"Well, it's only a 650 Guzzi. Not very fast or sporty or anything, I'm afraid. I just use it to get around, I'm a bit of a wuss, really."

"Lead the way."

She handed him a spare helmet. This one was red. He slipped the helmet on but took his disguise off. "I like the feel of the wind in my shell." Raphael loved the looks of surprise on the motorists they passed. Finally they arrived at the sewer entrance and hid the bike in a nearby alley, hiding it under a load of old rubbish.

Raphael and Galatea arrived back at the lair to hear the ear-splitting sound of screeching parrots. The birds were beginning to feel a lot better.

"This place is like a zoo," said Galatea. "Hi, guys, hi, April. Where did all these come from?"

"Nice jacket, Gal," said Mike.

"Australia," said Don.

"Long way to go for a pet," said Galatea. "You could have picked up a perfectly good canary at Macy's."

"Well, they just flew in..." said Leo.

"...And boy are their wings tired!" laughed Mike.

Galatea took her pack from Raphael and began taking the little bottles out of it and placing them on the table. "This looks like a job for...Rescue Remedy. We'll also need some exotic parrot mix and sunflower seeds. A volunteer to go shopping, please."

"Done!" said Michelangelo. Galatea made a list for him while he put on his disguise and then vanished into the night.

Galatea put her leather gloves back on and one by one began to administer the remedies to the parrots. By the time she had finished the birds seemed noticeably healthier. "There," she said finally. "All done." Galatea's health seemed to have diminished in the time since Raphael had found her in the garden. She seemed tired and wrung out. "I could use a little rescue remedy myself."

"Would a cup of tea suffice?" asked Splinter kindly.

"Oh, Splinter, my hero! Yes please!"

"You're not quite done, actually, Galatea," said Leonardo.

"More birds?" said Raphael.

"The suitcase had a false bottom." Leonardo opened the false bottom to show the torpid reptiles beneath.

Galatea reached in and lifted one of the lizards out. "Oh, the poor little things. Are these from Australia too?"

"Yes," said April. From a great distance she pointed out the various animals and named them.  That's a children's python, that one's a diamond python. Uh...lace monitor, the horrible looking thing next to it is a thorny devil, that one is a bearded dragon and the one you're holding is a frillnecked lizard. And they're all revolting."

"Oh, but they've got such lovely scaly bodies, don't you think reptiles are lovely?"

"I refuse to answer that question."

"Oh, Galatea!" said Raphael. "Are you kinky for reptiles, too?"

"I refuse to answer that question. Clean up your act, Raphael! I'll do my best for these little guys, but I really don't know that much about taking care of reptiles."

"You do all right," said Raphael quietly.

Splinter handed Galatea her cup of tea and she flopped down into  a chair to drink it. "You know, the reptiles have all been kept cool and quiet, they're probably in pretty good condition. I'll
just shoot some rescue remedy into them and put them back where it's cool." She stroked the frilled lizard absent-mindedly as she sipped her drink. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Perhaps we could arrange to have them sent back to where they came from," said Splinter.

April shook her head. "Not possible, I'm afraid. They have really strict quarrantine laws in Australia, any animal that gets brought in has to spend about 6 months in quarrantine, otherwise it's destroyed."

"Why do they do that?" said Leonardo.

"Disease," said Donatello. "There's no rabies in Australia. No foot and mouth disease. Lots of other things like bee diseases and chicken diseases that they just don't have there. I guess they want to keep it that way."

"Yeah," said Raphael, "but these are Australian animals, surely they don't count."

April shrugged. "They don't make exceptions."

Donatello nodded agreement. "Australian quarrantine laws are so tough, you can't even bring a piece of salami into the country!"

Michelangelo arrived back in the lair just in time to hear Donatello's comment about salami. He stopped dead in his tracks, a look of abject horror on his face. The supermarket bag containing 5kg of parrot seed slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, spreading seed about his face. "That's really terrible," he said in a small, awed voice. No salami. No pizza. Remind me never to go there."

"I think they make their own salami, Mike," said Leo reassuringly.

"Which brings us back to the original question; what are we going to do with them?" said Raphael.

"Feed them!" said Galatea. She put the lizard and her cup of tea down on the table and began crawling round on the floor scooping up the seed that Mike had spilled. She poured the seed into the cage and the birds began to eat greedily. From his position near the roof even the cocky who had bitten Donatello seemed very interested in the proceedings. Galatea gathered up a handful of the seeds and held it up to the cocky.  "Here, boy."

"I wouldn't do that Gal," warned Donatello. "He's a killer!"

The cocky flew down and landed on Galatea's wrist and began pecking hungrily at the seeds she was offering. He nibbled the seed, glaring at Donatello, and then climbed along Galatea's arm to settle on her shoulder. He finished eating the seed and then nibbled gently behind Galatea's ear.

"You certainly have a way with savage beasts, Galatea," said Raphael.

"Yeah," said Donatello. For some reason he found the comment funny.

Galatea gently placed the cocky in the cage with the other birds.

"I think the best thing would be for me to donate the birds and animals to the Central park zoo," said April. "At least we know they'll be properly cared for there."

"Of course," agreed Splinter. "They have been handed over to you by an unknown animal liberator."

"Hm. Somebody who found out I was doing the story."

Galatea picked up one of the snakes. "Well, I'll just dose up these little guys with the remedy and they can get themselves liberated." She dosed the reptiles in the case and counted them. "That's funny, I thought there was one more."

"Here," said April. "The one you were holding." She reached across the table to the lizard which was curled around Galatea's half-drunk tea. The warmth of the cup had brought the lizard out of its torpor though, and as April cautiously reached for it, it suddenly stood on its hind legs and hissed at her, raising the frill on its neck like an umbrella opening. April squawked and jumped back and the lizard swung round and went in the opposite direction. It leapt onto a glass case, rocking it and smashing it to the floor.

"Our cannister!" moaned Leonardo.

Amongst the shards of glass, green ooze spread out from a canister with the initials T.C.R.I. written on it. The lizard skidded for a moment and the green slime, getting its belly and tail coated in the stuff. It oriented itself before anyone could grab it and made a fast getaway down a rathole in the wall.

The turtles surveyed the wreck. Green smears showed where the lizard had been. "The mutagen," said Donatello. "He was covered in it."

He's gonna turn into one of us.

"A ninja turtle?" said Galatea, slightly surprised.

"A big mutant lizard," said Leonardo.

Donatello shook his head. "Not neccessarily. It took us years to get to our full size, and if it hadn't been for Splinter we probably would never have survived the early days. The sewer's
a mean place for a young animal, or an animal all by itself that doesn't know its way around."

"I wouldn't count on it taking years to get to full size," said Galatea. "There have been some really wierd things coming out of the sewers the past couple of weeks."

"Like what," Leo asked.

"Big animals. Like mice the size of Splinter. (But nowhere near as good looking or smart, Splinter.)"

Mike scratched his head. "Who would want to grow big mice?"

Raphael shook his head sadly. "Who knows? You know how wierd humans are..." he looked at April who frowned and folded her arms. ", present company excepted. Anyway, it's a worrying thought, if the lizard eats the bodies of some of those mutated mice, who knows what might happen?"

"Well I think we'd better organise a search party," said Leonardo. He peered into the hole that the lizard had disappeared down. "Wonder where this little hole goes?"

"I'd like to know where the hole came from!" said Donatello. The hole was on a level with his workbench. "I'm sure it wasn't there yesterday. Hang on..." He began to rifle through the clutter on his bench. "Where's it gone?"

"Where's what gone?" said Leo. "I don't know how you can find anything in all this mess."
"It's gone," said Donatello finally, "and I think it made that hole."

"Do we know what he's talking about?" said April.

"The little robot," Don explained. "It was stealing uranium from the Lavender Hill power plant. I broke it. It was in pieces, only now all the pieces are gone. It had the most remarkable capacity for self-repair that I've ever seen in a machine."

"So now we have to go down there after it?" said Mike, dubiously pointing at the little hole.

"I can track it," said Don, happily holding up the tracking device he had lifted from Lavender Hill.

Donatello led the way through a maze of pipes. The signal grew steadily stronger and they eventually found themselves in the waste water system of a large building. They pushed open floor tiles in a laboratory and there was the little robot, sitting on a bench. There was a small hole in the wall beside it, presumably it had simply burrowed its way through the hole. Beside it on the bench were spilled and broken chemical bottles.

Donatello peered at the little robot. "Put himself back together."

"That thing is really wierd science," muttered Michelangelo.

Leonardo agreed. "Have you ever heard of a technology that has machines repair themselves? It's like it was sick and got better."

"And I've got no idea how it works," said Don. It's totally alien technology."

"He's messy though," said Mike. "Look at all those chemicals he spilled."

Leonardo looked at the puddle of chemicals. They were splashed on the bench but a trail of little footprints led off the bench and down across the floor. "The robot didn't spill that, I think our little lizard friend did that."

Mike laughed. "He really likes playing with chemistry sets, doesn't he? What is that stuff?"

Donatello picked up an intact bottle, careful not to let any of the mess touch his skin. He frowned as he read the label. "I think we're going to have a big lizard sooner than we thought. You know those big mice Galatea was talking about?"

"This stuff made them big?" said Leo.

"This stuff would make them grow fast. Any effect the mutogen from the T.C.R.I. would have on him will be speeded up because of this stuff. To make them grow big the mice must have been fed...." he searched among the bottles on the shelf in front of him. Finally he checked the label on one, "this stuff!"

"So," said Raphael, "if you want big mice in a hurry..."

"Feed 'em Purina rodent chow..." laughed Mike.

"The all chemical pet food."

"Get down!" hissed Leo suddenly. "Company!"

In an instant the room looked empty. The strutting gamecock figure of Shredder entered the room, alongside him came the twisted, deformed Mr Hideo. Shredder, as usual, was angry. "Your experiments are stupid, Hideo! What use are big mice to me? You only increase their body size."

"Tell me, Oroku, how many years did your friend Hamato have his pet rat for?"

"I don't know. A few. What has that to do with your experiment?"

"Gaia works a subtle weave, Oroku. A bond of love formed between the man and his pet. With love comes learning and intelligence. When the rat mutated, he was increased by love as much as by the chemicals that fell upon him. We are trying to create the same effect with drugs alone, and it is not easy. Especially when you cannot provide me with the right tools."

"You have the mice."

"And now even they are gone." He indicated a row of cages that the mice had been kept in. The cages were broken, though. Almost torn to pieces in come cases. There was no sign of any mice.

"What happened?"

"I can only assume one of the larger rats that you disposed of for me was not quite dead, and it returned and liberated its little friends. Or ate them. Where are the animals you promised, Oroku?"

"I don't know. Something went wrong. When our man went to the pick up point, he was given that." Shredder pointed to a suitcase on one of the benches. It was identical to the one the birds and reptiles had been carried in.

"What is it?"



Shredder shrugged, "I can always sell it on the street."

Just as he had finished speaking the door burst open and two men, both with guns pointed, came in. Shredder watched them closely, but they kept well back from him. One kept his gun pointed at Shredder, the other at Hideo. Shredder made no move. His armour was good, but it wasn't bullet proof.

The smaller man spoke. "I hope you are aware, Mr Oroku, that to sell another person't property is theft."

He raised his gun and they everyone in the room heard the sound of the safety clicking off.  Leonardo could actually smell Shredder's fear. They saw the man's knuckle whiten as he began to squeeze the trigger, then suddenly the room went mad. Something came scuttling out from behind one of the benches it hissed at the men and its head seemed to balloon in size. Its tail lashed about the room and it bit the hand of the man who was about to shoot Shredder.

Shredder and Hideo both made their moves. Shredder attacked the two men and Hideo ran away. The turtles broke from their cover and Raphael dumped the cocaine down the waste disposal.

"Come this way," called Mike, indicating the lifted tiles that led to the sewer.

The lizard raced once more round the room then, before Mike even had a chance to lead the way, the lizard leapt through the hole and down into the sewer.

"We'll never find him now," said Mike sadly as they made their way back to the lair. "He could have gone in any direction."

"Don't worry Mike," said Raphael. "I'm sure Master Splinter will have some sort of idea about how we can find him."

The turtles stopped dead in their tracks when they arrived back at their lair. There was no need to search for the lizard, he was sitting at the table drinking tea with Splinter and the two women.

Splinter smiled graciously at the turtles. "Ah, my sons, you return at last. Our guest, as you
see, found his own way home. Ginairrunda, allow me to introduce: Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael and Leonardo."

The lizard towered over Splinter. He was even taller than April. He looked quite slim with his frill folded back. His long tail curled almost the length of the table. "G'day," he said. "That's the little feller who showed me how to get out of that place. Thanks for gettin' me outa there."

"That's okay dude," said Mike.

"Sit down, my sons, take tea with us."

Donatello sipped his tea. "So, Ginairrunda, how do you think you'll like living in the sewers of New York?"

"No good, mate. I can't live here. I gotta go home."

"That's not possible," said Leonardo. "I'm afraid. This will have to be your new home."

"No, mate, I can't live here. In the Dreamtime, when Wondjina make me, he give me to the land. He say "This your place. You belong to this place." He make me a lizard, and ever since the Dreamtime I been Ginairrunda the frill necked lizard, and I live where I belong. Then one day some men come and take me away, and make me a man, make me like I was back in the Dreaming. The only reason for this can be so that I can go back to the place Wondjina make me for."

"You know," said Mike thoughtully, "there is a way we can get this dude back to down under." He opened the second suitcase and flicked through one of the wads of bills. "First class."

"He'd need a passport," said Leo.

"With one of our disguises we could make him look human enough to pass for a passport photo," said Raphael.

"He'd need a birth certificate first, though," said Leo.

Don shrugged. "Not a problem, Leo. I can hack into City Records and create a background for him. What will we call you?"

"You don't need to call me. I already got a name. Wondjina call me Ginairrunda and so that's my name."

"How about Mick Dundee," suggested April.

"Bit obvious," said Leo.

"What about Mike Doohan?" said Galatea.

"Yeah," Donatello agreed. "That sounds like the sort of name an ordinary Australian would have."


It took a few days to organise the passport and ticket, but Ginnairunda was finally ready for his flight home. The turtles had dressed him in a ten gallon had and fringed cowboy shirt and a pair of extra-extra large baggy jeans that hid his tail. He had enough traveller's cheques to keep him going for a week, and a first-class ticket for Coolangatta via Sydney on the next Qantas flight.

He stood by the departure gate, saying goodbye to April, Splinter, the turtles and Galatea. "It's too bad those other reptiles and birds couldn't come back with me."

"They've gone to a good home," April reassured him. "Central Park zoo's one of the best."

"No cage, however well presented, is as good as being free," said Splinter quietly.

"You fellers let me know if you ever comin to Australia. I'll look after you."

Leo slapped him on the back. "Thanks, Ginairrunda. We'll remember that."

Raphael grinned. "Yeah, we'll drop by next time we're out of town."

The turtles stood by April's car and watched the jet take off. Michelangelo looked longingly at the suitcase with the remaining money in it. "Have you decided what you're going to do with it, April?"

"Yes, we decided we should try and make it up to the animals. Half is going to the World Wildlife Fund for Animals and Greenpeace will get the other half."

Mike sighed. "Just two neat halves. Just like that. And gone."

"Well," said April, "How about a reward for the finders?"

"Could the reward involve pizza?" said Don hopefully.

"I think it could be arranged.

"How about a giant humungo size deep dish super supreme with the works?" yelled Mike.

"Each!" added Raphael.

April laughed all the way to the pizza shop.

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