Donatello works intently as he runs some tests on Subject. The girl never flinches or looks the least bit uncomfortable, instead looking almost curious; the only indication of such is from the way she never takes her eyes off his movements. He scribbles notes down on a pad of paper, nodding his head unconsciously every now and again.

"Are you finding anything of worth?" she inquires as she steps out from behind a bunch of television sets that work together to create an x-ray.

Donatello stares at the results on screen, an elated yet stunned look on his face. "Loads! Why...you've got human blood and human bodily functions, but some of you brain and other functions are completely robotic! Amazing!" He points to the screen that displays one of her arms. "Look, most of the muscles in your arms and—and, well, your legs too, come to think of it—they're completely metal! You must be incredibly strong!"

Subject registers no sign of happiness, but he's already pretty used to that. "My strength is no more than that of a healthy young man, but yes, I suppose my strength does not match up to my body type."

He finds himself smiling as he turns away from the display to face her. She stares blankly back at him and he's suddenly reminded of Diaval. Same blank look, but there's a light in Subject's eyes that Diaval doesn't have. It's an artificial light, but a light nonetheless.

"Hey, Sub, why don't you change your facial expression?" he asks suddenly, scrambling to get his pen from where he stuck it in his mask.

She tilts her head and her eyes narrow a fraction. "What ever do you mean?"

"I mean, you never show any sign of being embarrassed or amazed or...anything. Why?"

"What are these things you speak of? What functions are they?"

He fails to hide the surprise that engulfs him. Everything comes together, snapping together conclusions as if he's solving a Rubix Cube.

"You mean emotions?" he asks.

"Emotions..." She says it slowly, trying the word out on her tongue. "I am not familiar with the term."

He almost laughs. Her confusion is sort of cute. "Emotions are a natural instinctive state of mind, deriving from one's circumstances, mood, or relationships with others. They make you human." He turns back to the x-ray and starts to tap his chin with his pen. "You should feel them, considering that most of your brain and heart are human," he continues, aiming his pen at the image of her chest and brain. He pulls up a chair, sits down, and spins to face her. She imitates him, taking a second chair. "You said something about being pleased earlier, but I'm guessing that was just a formality?"

"Yes. I do not...feel. I suppose that I know the terms, but I cannot connect the feeling to the given title." She pauses, then her eyes flash. "Oh, is hatred an emotion?"

He shifts, his hands drifting to his knee pads. "Yes," he answers, slightly perturbed. "Do you feel hatred? You mentioned it on the ride here."

"For the Kraang, yes," she replies. "I also feel...curiosity. Is that what humans call it?"

"Like wanting to discover and learn? That's curiosity."

"Yes. I feel curiosity and hatred."

She says nothing more. He leans in, pen drifting back to the paper. "Anything else?" he presses.

"No, not that I can think of. I may have researched emotion long ago...I should think of delving deeper into my studies," she admits.

She rests her chin on her hand, her expression going still as her eyes fall into someplace too far away to see. This time, it's Donatello's turn to stare. Despite how expressionless she is, there's something about her face that radiates a youthful intelligence. She isn't dead-eyed. She has a thoughtfulness in her eyes that makes Donatello feel understood on a higher level than ever before.

"Oh," she murmurs as a flash comes from her gaze, her voice suddenly breathy instead of steady and sure. "Yes. I have research about emotion logged in my database." She drops her hand from her chin and look at Donatello again. "It's complex. When I do allow my thoughts to wander, it is the one thing that I can never make sense of. Isn't it strange that humans, or mutants, can feel things? How did they develop such an ability in the first place? Genetic mutation, perhaps, or something that they gained through evolution? I understand most things, Donatello, but this...it is the one thing that never fails to perplex me. It is as foreign to me as the outside world is."

He blinks, his mouth slightly ajar. "You...well, I don't really know any of that either. I guess I never put much thought to it." He dons a smile, but it's wobbly. "You developed curiosity and hatred all on your own, though. Don't you understand those?"

"I have always wanted to learn because that is the only thing that has made me feel like there is something important going on in my life. Hatred developed because of my curiosity. I became aware of the world going on without me and when I wondered why, I found that it was because of the Kraang." Her eyebrows furrow just a bit, her chin tightens, her bottom lip pouts just the slightest bit. "They forbid me from leaving. They insisted that they needed me to stay put, then dragged me around to test every little thing. I had to sit. I had to be obedient. It was easy at first, but once those seeds took root, there was little to be done, and thus my hatred has festered and swollen ever since." She folds her hands in her lap and the lines melt from her face. "So, do I understand? Yes, perhaps too much."

He falls silent. He isn't sure if he could talk right now even if he wanted too. This strange girl has him transfixed. She managed to grow curious and intelligent even when she was isolated, treated like the lowest of the low, and that stirs up a flurry of admiration for her in Donatello's chest.

"However," Subject says. "You say that I am human, that my body is simply fused with the robot that I have been raised to believe that I am. Could you teach me...emotion?"

"Teach you how to feel?" he repeats. "I suppose anything is worth a shot. Maybe I could venture to help you, if you do stick around."

"Hmm," she murmurs. She looks back to the laboratory doors as the sound of Space Heroes manages to seep through the barrier. "Destiny and Leonardo are very strange around one another. Their interactions are different than the others I've witnessed," she comments. "What emotion has possessed them?"

"Oh, uh...that's love, I guess. It's an emotion and a feeling," Donatello answers, scratching the back of his neck as he feels his heart start to sink. "It's funny because they're not even together. They used to be, but they broke up a while ago but it's pretty obvious that they still love each other. It's pretty aggravating." He swallows hard and forces his eyes away from the photographs on his wall.

"Love...love..." Subject closes her eyes, mouthing the word over and over with less and less volume each time. "Strange..." She murmurs it a few more times, then her eyes snap open. "Have you ever experienced love?" she asks.

He stiffens, his knuckles turning white as he reaches out and grips the edge of the table. His eyes grow itchy and he debates whether or not to lie to her. Something tells him that he wouldn't be able to get a lie past her so easily. She's emotionless, but that doesn't mean that she's not intuitive.

"I...I..." His mouth feels like a desert.

Her eyes flash. "Oh, I see you have...but it does not seem to be happy."

He drags his head up, faintly aware of how miserable and pathetic he must look. "How could you tell?" he mutters.

"You tensed up. Your voice was strained and your eyes grew misty, slightly wet, and that prompted me to believe that perhaps your experience with love was not pleasant." She blinks. "Love seems like such an enjoyable thing, yet...from what I see from your family so far, it isn't so simple."

"Love...love is a great thing," he says, "but it's not without its difficulties. Especially if the feeling isn't mutual." He stands up, glancing over his notes with a surly glare. "Now, do you sleep and eat?"

She acts as if the abrupt topic change is nonexistent. "I can sleep normally, but the Kraang prefer the method of plugging me into a wall or battery and allowing me to charge up," she answers. "As for eating, I can survive for long periods of time without food or water, just as long as I have electricity. Still, that does not keep me alive indefinitely and I require sustenance to maintain a healthy lifestyle."

"Elaborate?"

"My diet at TCRI consisted of two glasses of water and a single bowl of oatmeal per day. Otherwise, I plugged myself in." Her eyes flash. "I hear that there is more food in the outside world, and more drinks too. Is that true, Donatello?"

He nods. "It is. Humans delight in taking on new culinary challenges."

"Fascinating creatures."

"Indeed." He finishes a note on the paper, then peers over the edge at her. "What about oil? Can you drink that?"

Her nose crinkles for a split second. "No, that liquid is vile and I cannot digest it properly."

"Interesting..." he mumbles as he delves back into scribbling the observation down.

Subject leans forward, still watching him intently. "I must say, Donatello, it is pleasant to have another living being to converse with," she says.

He looks up as a small but grateful smile lifts his lips. "I'm just glad to have someone who can keep up. None of my brothers understand my...science talk."

"That's a shame."

"It is, but I think I can handle it, especially if you stay for a while."

"I hypothesized the same, Donatello." She glances around the lab. "I would like to see those artifacts and unfinished projects. Will you show them to me?"

He gets to his feet and she mimics him without a second thought as he agrees. "Sure! I think you'll like a lot of them."

They wander over to the shelf of trophies lining his wall and he talks about the missions behind each one: The head of a Foot bot and a Kraang droid, a Kraang mind control chip, a Kraang communication orb, a glowing jar of swamp ooze, a spike from Slash's shell, Snakeweed's claw, the dream book, Timothy, Metalhead's head, the list goes on. As Subject examines each object with a cautious hand, one more nagging question begs to be asked.

"Subject?" he asks. She glances away from the shattered dream book and he clears his throat. "I...I was just wondering, what's your occupation?"

She blinks once. "As in a career?"

"Yeah, like how I'm an inventor and Destiny's a tracker. Like that."

She eyes him as a gentle whirring sounds from someplace on or in her body. Her eyes flash. "I suppose...that I would call myself a scientist."

Donatello's heart leaps.