Whumptober: Feed A Cold, Starve A Fever

Whumptober: Feed A Cold, Starve A Fever

It was getting colder. As the autumn months ended and faded into winter, the chill had gotten worse, and they had been needing to bundle up as much as they safely could and cut back on their time on the surface to avoid accidentally falling into hibernation.

Still, Leonardo sometimes went out solo. Not for long, of course, he wasn’t stupid, just for brisk morning runs or to cool off after an argument. He made sure to put something warm on, he had told Donatello when he found out, who was very concerned about his winter outings.

Now, usually these went well. And sometimes they ended in him throwing himself at a gang harassing some poor person who was just trying to get home from a tiring nine to five job.

Sometimes, that ended in him getting shot in the leg and tied to a fence.

The oldest of the group cackled as Leonardo struggled with the bindings, mocking his situation. Every weapon he had was pushed against the opposite wall, out of his reach, so that he couldn’t cut through the ropes even if he tried. Not just that, anything that was previously warm was thrown into the ground, half soaked in blood and frozen. He could already feel chill, sending shivers down his spine. Shoot.

“Not so tough now, are you?” One of them taunted, having the audacity to saunter closer and rest a gloved hand on his face.

Leonardo smirked, then bit them, hard.

With a sharp cry, they ripped their hand away, rubbing it and swearing under their breath before turning to glare at him.

"Shoulda muzzled the stupid thing too…" They muttered darkly, then tilted their head away from Leo. "C'mon, let's get out of here. If it's still alive when we get back, we'll make sure that it learns its lesson."

They were coming back? His beak wrinkled as they left. He didn't plan on sticking around long enough for them to do anything to him. A chain link fence rattled behind him as he pulled against the wrist ropes. He couldn’t stay there long. The air was chilling more and more as nighttime approached, the dull oranges and midnight blues fading away into black. Leonardo knew what he was risking by staying out too long, they all did. Stupid turtle DNA.

His breath misted in the air in front of him, leaving a small cloud for a moment before it dissipated. That wasn’t a good sign, that was-

There was the first snow of the season, of the month.

Shoot.

He was already getting sluggish, the ice falling off of him as soon as he struggled and kicked. He was getting weak, he wouldn’t be able to make it home, not at this rate, and it was already dark-

There was a thin sheet of snow over him, occasionally disturbed by harsh shivers or sudden, jerky movements. When did that happen? How long had he been there, that it was beginning to gather like that? People’s Christmas lights had already gone up, towards the beginning of December, and were now reflecting on glistening snow, vibrant reds and greens. He knew Michelangelo would like the way it looked. He would have to take him down here when this whole mess was over.

Right, stuck, tied to a fence. He couldn’t risk letting himself be still for too long, who knew how long it would be before he slipped into hibernation. Leonardo tugged again at the ropes before they froze, leaning forward to try and snap them with his body weight, but only succeeded in putting himself in an uncomfortable situation.

Oh, he was really stuck. But he needed to get back to the others, before they started worrying, if they hadn’t already. There was a bullet in his leg anyway, more vibrant red staining the snow, leaving him trembling harder as any left over heat left his body. Struggles began to cease, sleep tugging at his mind and trying to pull his eyelids shut.

A voice in the back of his mind called for him to rest, to close his eyes and not wake up until Spring. Leonardo really wished that his instinct would shut up for two minutes and let him be aware of his situation so that he could figure a way out.

But nooo, nothing could be easy for him, could it?

He was still slipping, he was still losing the ability to think and remember. Remember that he needed to stay awake and get home, that he had been shot and he might not be able to keep going if he closed his eyes, that he was risking not waking up. He hadn’t been abandoned there, he hadn’t.

He hadn’t been abandoned, so maybe he could close his eyes for just a bit…

%%%

“What the- Don, he’s over here!”

“Oh my- Leo! Shoot, what were you thinking? You idiot!”

“Is he okay?”

“No, Mikey. From the looks of it, he’s fallen asleep, which means he might be hibernating right now, pretty much. He’s also really hot, so he’s definitely sick from the cold, considering how long he had to have been out here for this much snow to gather. It’s like a blanket! Not to mention the bullet wound in his leg.”

“That little- What was he thinking?”

“I don’t know Raph, but we need to get him home now, before he freezes. Grab his things. Mikey, you’ll help me get him down, I need to keep a close eye on him anyway.”

%%%

That idiot.

What was he thinking, heading out that early for a morning run? What if he had been left out in the open and somebody had seen him? They knew the risks of getting seen by a human. They would be taken, most likely experimented on, and then dissected to see what made them go “tick”. Medical experimentation was not always done… Ethically.

Still, despite his worries, his brother was there, laying on that couch in a basking spot with a blanket, alive (although much less than well) and safe, for the most part. As safe as they could get. All they needed to do was get him out of hibernation, then see about his sickness afterwards.

The heat might have been too much. He was already feverish from staying out in the cold for God knows how long, and his temperature was rising by the minute. Raphael wasn’t comfortable with leaving him there for long, considering how warm his older brother was getting.

Then, by some kind of miracle, he woke up. Leonardo started slow, blinking sleepily and looking around, dazed. He struggled with the blanket for a second, but managed to remove it without Raphael’s help. Still, Raphael watched him for a long minute, making sure that he didn’t need help with anything. Was that weird, to just watch him? He didn’t think it was, they did that plenty.

“Don, he’s awake,” Raphael called and scooched just a tad closer even as Leonardo coughed into his elbow. To heck with sickness, he didn’t care.

Closer, now, he could tell that the older of the two was shivering, even though he felt as though he were burning to the touch.

Fantastic, he really was sick.

Donatello came running, immediately looking Leonardo over and grabbing his cheeks in his hands, despite the quiet protests. After a long moment, he moved Leonardo out of the heated spot on the couch, into somewhere much cooler, and set the blanket beside him. Offering it, but not forcing it on him.

Leonardo trembled and coughed again. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

“There’s a tracker in your phone, Leo. There’s a tracker in everybody’s phone.”

“Oh.”

They left it at that, Donatello curling up next to Leonardo, before finally asking:

“What were you thinking? I’ve told you time and time again, we shouldn’t go up as much when it’s cold out!”

Leonardo sneezed, and said nothing, head dipped in shame. Donatello wrinkled his beak, preparing to further his talk, but decided not to at the last minute.

Raphael bit his tongue to keep back a laugh. Leonardo, of all people, getting lectured? He never thought he would live to see the day, but there he was.

%%%

Later that night, Donatello discharged Leonardo to his own room. Told him to call him if he needed anything at all, and that he planned on checking on the bullet wound in the morning.

Leonardo, being Leonardo, agreed.

%%%

“This is your fault, Leo!”

No, he- He thought he left those fears, long ago. He thought that after the mushrooms, it would be over!

“You failed us!”

He- He didn’t. He didn’t. He didn’t. Right? Right?

Still, Raphael stood above him, hollow eyes that would haunt anyone, a blade pushed between the cracks in Leonardo’s plastron. His bloody plastron, he noticed. They were definitely a gory sight, bleeding from almost everywhere, looking akin to zombies, and that was-

Not his blood.

Theirs.

Not his, theirs. Their blood, coating his scales, on his hands, everywhere, tinging the air copper. Something he never wanted to be around again.

And he wanted to cry. He wanted so badly to scream at them that he was trying his best, he couldn’t do everything, but he knew, he knew: They were right. It was his job to keep them safe, as their brother and leader.

So when Raphael pushed the sword into his torso, Leonardo did not cry or beg for mercy. He only screamed as the burning pain laced its way into his very being, tearing his atoms apart, hot coals in his body-

Leonardo had dreamed screaming, he woke up screaming, hand over his plastron, still feeling that agony, that splitting agony that coursed through him and-

The shoji slid open, his family raced in- He disappointed them, they were going to hurt him, they were going to kill him-

Leonardo rolled out of bed, dizzy as it made him, and grabbed his katana, screaming at them.

“Stay back!” he stumbled, fell back, and was distantly aware that he could have accidentally cut himself. That wasn’t important though, what was was staying alive.

“Hey, what the-” Raphael said- Leaning forward, a weapon in his hand, black eyes, disappointed, bloody. He was angry, Leonardo couldn’t stop seeing it-

“What’s wrong with him, Don?” Michelangelo said. He sounded afraid, afraid of Leonardo but Leonardo should have been afraid of them, as wrong as it felt.

“I- I think it’s a fever dream?” Donatello moved forward, reaching out to grab him.

No, they all moved forward, he was going to die, going to die in that tiny space and it was his fault, his fault, his fault-

He had a sword, to Mikey’s face, to the baby’s face, and still Michelangelo pleaded, voice soft from a bad attempt at soothing him. At his sides, Raphael and Donatello had circled around his sides to grab him, should the need arise, because he was about to hurt one of his own.

“Oh,” Leonardo whispered as he dropped the sword, the clatter of metal against concrete too loud in his ears, “Oh my God. I’m so sorry-”

They didn’t say anything at first. Good, he didn’t want or deserve the condolences, but then-

"You're alright now, Leo. It was just a dream, nothing more, you don’t have to apologize if you just put the sword down."

They still were worried for him, even after he tried to hurt them? What if he tried it again? What if the dreams came back? He would disappoint them, when they put so much faith in him-

Leonardo faintly remembers letting go of the other katana that he still had at his side. He’d grabbed both in his panic, just in case one got away from him. The world was spinning, now, and that’s not something the world was supposed to do.

“No, no, I was-” he paused to cough, a harsh, wracking cough that made his chest hurt and it felt like there was sandpaper in his lungs, “-I was going to hurt you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

He cut off, not because of his own guilt. There was something amiss, the world was still spinning, and that wasn’t good, he should probably say something.

Raphael reached out.

Leonardo said something.

“Bucket-”

Thankfully, they realized rather quickly what he meant, and there was a bucket in front of him. Pretty much completely empty, he ended up dry heaving, coughing afterwards. It still hurt, in his chest, his plastron, his whole torso, actually. But at least now the room wasn’t tipping, even though they were all still looking at him like he was dying.

“Sorry…” He mumbled again, pushing it away and leaning back. The room felt suffocating with four people in it although there was barely anything to make it feel cluttered, so much open space that there shouldn’t have been any crowding at all.

“Mikey,” Donatello finally started, “Make him some tea. The peppermint stuff, we’re just gonna- Leave, for now-”

“NO!” The answer was sudden and Leonardo hated it, but he didn’t want to be alone, not just then. “No,” He corrected, “Please, don’t leave.” He thought he had escaped those fears a long time ago, but the truth was that they never left. They only faded over time, became less vivid so that when he woke up he never remembered them. Now, he was sick and most likely delirious. They were almost lucid. Almost.

Donatello shifted nervously. “Alright, the couch it is, I guess.”

Leonardo nodded and hopped onto his feet. Raphael grabbed his arm when he got unsteady, and the blue-banded turtle had to force himself not to pull away or start screaming. This was not one of his dreams. He was awake, they were all alive, he hadn’t disappointed anyone yet.

They moved slowly, allowing him to limp and favor his injured leg, so that shortly after getting to the couch, Michelangelo had popped out of the kitchen, holding a warm cup of tea. It was promptly shoved into Leonardo’s hands as the youngest wormed between the two oldest, snuggling between them. Each started doing their own thing, not entirely what to do or say after that event, but that was fine by Leonardo, as long as he had them there with him and knowing that they were safe and alive.

Whumptober: Talking Is Overrated

Leonardo didn’t know why he expected any of their missions to go well.

Really, that should be on him. As their leader, he was supposed to be the one planning, after all. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one making sure that these didn’t go wrong?

And yet, still, something always went wrong, and it was almost always him that got hurt for it. Karma, he supposed.

It just- It never went that wrong.

They split up, needing to go to different areas so that they could access different terminals. That was their first mistake. His first mistake.

Careful as always, he snuck through the shadows, melding in with the darkness and sliding along the walls, sticking closest to where they wouldn’t look. For a long moment, he watched the mix of Foot and Kraang below him who hovered by the terminal for a moment, looking around for intruders, then started to slink down after they left. In the short window of time he had, Leonardo began to work. Once the terminal was out of their sight, they wouldn’t think to check again, so he had a bit of time to work. While this was Donatello’s area of expertise, he had gone through examples of this routine with the second youngest enough times to know how he was supposed to do it without any help from the genius. His hand glided along the keyboard easily enough, and soon, the code was in and accepted.

Good.

Then, all he had to do was wait for the others to finish up and then they should have been good to go.

Things didn’t go as planned, of course. Because they never did.

All of a sudden the screen went black, the lights went out shortly after. When they did come back on, they were red, and the sirens wailed in the background. Shoot, they knew he was there. They would be back over at the terminal in moments, and when they got there, he would have to fight for his life.

So, like any smart person, Leonardo ran, sticking close to the edges once more to try and avoid getting spotted, finding areas where the shadows were deeper until he got back up to the rooftop. From there, he was home free.

Or, he thought he was. As the eldest neared the rendezvous, a throwing star whizzed behind his head, almost taking off the tails of his mask and making him turn to where it came from. An ambush? Really? He bit the inside of his cheek, exasperated that they waited so long to attack.

It was just the Foot, though. They were easy, he didn’t have to worry about them. Besides, he was good enough at fighting. After all, they had all been practicing and training since they could walk, they could take on a small group all on their own without struggle nowadays.

But suddenly, a chain wrapped around his wrist- (Pulling him back, slamming him up against the fencing and knocking the air from his lungs. Another bot ran at him, and-) and he was pulled backwards harshly, onto his shell. He had to raise up his other katana to make sure that he was safe while he was struggling to get up with the Foot-bot pulling on the chain and trying to drag him to keep him off balance.. In his moment while he was down, he realized that there was crimson blood on his blade, and oh god those were real people.

The Foot, this time, were not robots, were not the smart tech used to try and defeat them, they were actual people. And, if he had learned anything, people were cunning. They planned, they felt emotion, and, more importantly, they held grudges. Leonardo tugged, hard, and pulled the person down as he got up, because now? He couldn’t afford to stay down, especially considering the past between the Hamato clan and the Foot clan.

Even though it made him sick, Leonardo fought fiercely, tearing into skin with his blades like it was paper, letting the blood spray, to try and ward them off before he had to- Before he had To kill them. There was no way he could let them walk away from this alive. They were human, after all. He couldn’t trust humans, especially those who were considered enemies.

The person holding the chain around his wrist tugged again, but this time, Leonardo was braced for it, and stayed exactly where he was. Another chain wrapped around his other wrist and he was pulled down onto his knees, the two people grasping him pulling different directions and dang near tearing him in half, it felt.

Somebody approached slowly, no weapon, but holding a bunched up cloth, pushed into a kind of circle. They shoved it into his mouth despite his struggles, gagging him. The panic rose, and he had to try and choke it back down so that he could keep a level head and get free. Panic, in situations like these, never did anyone ever good. He could not afford to panic at a time like this.

Then- Then he could feel cold wire wrapping around the front of his neck, and the chill spread all across his body. The wire wrapped around his throat and tightened- Tightened, tightened, tightened until he couldn't breathe, made him sick, the world turning black.

His body fell forward as much as it could, and then there was a sharp pain in his throat- He bit down on the gag with a muffled scream as the wire began to dig in through skin and scales.

There was something warm flowing down his neck, and he prayed it wasn't blood but he knew, he knew. That was blood, and-

He couldn’t breathe. The oxygen deprivation was getting to his head, he needed to get out, needed to get out-

The Foot member in front of him crouched, and even with the mask he could swear he saw a mocking pity as they grabbed his face, tilting their head.

He needed to get out, because the wire dug deeper and the world was rapidly darkening and the blood drip, drip, dripped down his neck, flowing teasingly over his plastron and staining the roof red. He needed to get out.

So, he tried to. He tore his face away from the person in front of him and pulled hard with his arms, trying to get some release from the way he was held by the pair of humans with chains. But when he pulled , they pulled back harder, increasing the pressure.

He needed to get out, needed to-

The world darkened further, and he needed to get out, but his strength was rapidly dying.

Leo wanted to see his family, his friends, he wanted to live another day and he needed to get out-

Everything was tilting and going black and all of a sudden he realized he was falling, and the warmth on his neck had increased, he couldn't breathe but the wire wasn't there anymore. There was only warm liquid stuck in his lungs and he was choking on it. He was choking on it, he couldn't get away- (Because there was a claw grasping his ankle and water flowing in above him. He was dragged down, down, down, the light dying the further they went, and the water filling up his lungs, stealing the air he needed, and he couldn’t get back to the surface-)

Leo didn’t know why he expected any of their missions to go well, especially when some of them ended with a cold, lifeless corpse, and blood pooling on an empty roof.

Whumptober: Trust Fall

In the dark, shadows crept along the wall, glints from white eyes being the only sign that it was not just a trick of the light.

Unseen by guards and enemies, a group of four darted across the building, heading for the basement, and the core. On their way, they took out enemies and guards, lowering their chance of being seen with less people around to see them.

As they neared a large computer with screens facing all around, four split into pairs of two. Red and purple stayed by the computer, while orange and blue split off to wander around the border, taking down any patrols that risked discovering the middle pair.

Michelangelo yawned and grinned at Leonardo, giving him a friendly nudge while they were lingering by a doorway.

"Hey, Leo-!"

"Shh!" Leonardo hushed him quickly, elbowing him in the ribs, "Not the time, nor the place!"

Michelangelo pouted, but gave up while they continued on with their patrol around the bordering. The youngest's gaze drifted around lazily, bored to death by the lack of conversation and- Hey, was that a..?

Oh.

That felt… really important.

And probably like something he should tell Leonardo.

"Hey, Leo?"

"What?"

"Uh… That looks. Important." Michelangelo pointed to what he spotted, and saw Leonardo's expression shift to horror immediately.

It was a camera, angled directly at them and tracking their movements. Both of them stilled, knowing that they had both messed up. 

They were being watched.

They both backed up, and, after the camera had been pointed out, a voice came over the speakers. Razhaar.

"We know you're here," he growled over the microphone, voice teasing like they had already won, "get running, little piggies."

Leonardo and Michelangelo turned on their heel and ran for their lives, regrouping with Raphael and Donatello.

"Don, you done?" Leonardo asked, an urgency to his voice that wasn't there before.

Donatello nodded, giving them the good-to-go as he pulled the USB out of the computer.

With that, they took off, needing to get out fast.

The halls were... Eerily silent, there was not a sound to be heard as they ran. Which, was odd, and honestly concerning. They would have thought that the halls would be swarming with guards- No, there they are. They were all focused on the exits, trying to trap the team inside.

They skidded to a halt, bracing themselves for a fight and unsheathing weapons in preparation for what was to come. The guards spotted them quickly, and rushed them, dashing forward like they thought they had a chance.

The Foot bots were taken down quickly to avoid them adapting to their fighting styles, each member of the team moving fluidly across the area to assist others. And, just as quickly as it started, it was over.

With every enemy down, they went running for the exit, getting out while they still could. Raphael and Donatello took the lead, the genius holding valuable information at the moment, while Michelangelo and Leonardo held the rear for the time being.

Michelangelo looked behind them and froze up. He was scared, something gripped him and he stopped moving. He just couldn't move, he was afraid, there were more guards coming and they needed to leave-

"Hey," Leonardo held his shoulder, tense, but smiling gently to soothe him, "You good?"

Michelangelo still couldn't run, but he nodded, even as Leonardo positioned himself between the youngest and the approaching enemies. He missed the way Leonardo glanced up, then back, before back at Michelangelo. Leaning down ever so slightly, he cocked his head to the side.

"Mikey, you trust me, right?"

"Huh?"

"Do you trust me?"

What kind of question was that? Of course he did. Leonardo always had their backs. He was right there for them, all the time. Of course he trusted him. So, he nodded.

In the back, Donatello and Raphael called for them, sounding antsy.

Leonardo smiled wider, and Michelangelo felt soothed, like a child comforted by their mother.

"Good."

Suddenly, Michelangelo was shoved backwards, and he staggered, falling down and looking to Leonardo in question-

Leonardo smiled, and waved, before stepping back himself in time for a wall to come crashing down. Michelangelo screamed, loud and wordless as he scrambled back up and threw himself against the wall, slamming his fists into it and yelling his brother's name, yelling for the oldest.

No, nononono-!

He had been so calm just a second ago, why did that have to be taken away?!

Beside him, Raphael and Donatello appear, screaming themselves hoarse.

"Leo!"

From the other side, there was one, single tap, Leonardo's response.

"Guys," he called, and all of them fell silent, apprehensive, "you need to go, alright? I know another way out. I'll be fine, I'll meet you at the lair when this is all over."

Michelangelo whimpered. Donatello looked down. Raphael curled his hands into fists. Nobody said a word for a long moment.

Then, Donatello broke the silence. "You better keep your word, alright Leo? You have a very bad track record of lying."

"Alright," Leonardo called, his voice slowly fading, as if he was walking away, "Just get out and don't wait up, alright?"

Raphael swallowed and nodded, then signaled for them to follow after him. Donatello followed hesitantly, and Michelangelo just ran. He had already hurt them by not moving once, that's how Leonardo got trapped, and he refused to let that happen again.

%%%

Leonardo did not come back. They waited hours, constantly checking the clock, calling and texting him like they thought it would do something, waiting, waiting.

Leonardo did not come back.

A lone tear slid down Michelangelo's face.

Whumptober: It’ll Be Fun, They Said (4/5)

He thought they were safe.

He thought they would have been smarter, that they would have left it or gotten away.

But NO. They. Came. BACK.

And now they were all trapped, bound to this place where they'd probably die.

What was he supposed to do? He himself was chained to the wall, the heavy door triple locked to prevent any attempts at escapes.

Besides, they were all separated, and getting them all out would take too long. Raphael was in the room to his left. Donatello to his right, and Michelangelo behind him.

Getting to the room behind him would mean having to go completely around, running through a maze. Somebody would be shot before then, they couldn't get out without serious planning first.

He paced back and forth, listening to the chains on his ankles rattling as he thought.

"Leo?" Donatello whispered, barely loud enough to be heard through the wall, "Do you… Do you have a plan?"

Of course, of course- They were depending on him. They needed him to get them out before something happened. He needed to work faster. He always had a plan while on his toes, why couldn't he now?

"...I'll think of something," he replied instead of saying he didn't know.

"You always do."

How did he say he didn't know? He already tried everything, as soon as he got the chance. Now that they were all there, they would have a harder time. More places to be, more lives to account for, more hiding spots needed.

He continued to pace for a long while, still racking his brain for anything he hadn't thought of, anything that could work.

There were footsteps coming down the hall.

Nobody came down that way, towards where they were.

Leonardo froze, then stepped back, pushing himself against the wall, and waiting.

The door to his right opened, where Donatello was.

He felt sick, he wanted to scream, to make sure they wouldn't touch his brothers, but screaming would do nothing for anyone. Instead, he had to wait, listening to alarmed protests and a fading pair of footsteps, Raphael yelling not to touch him.

Once they were gone, Leonardo silently scolded himself for saying nothing, for not doing something to protect Donatello. He was supposed to take care of them, that was his job, as their older brother and leader.

He waited in silence, counting the minutes that ticked by until somebody came back down the hall after about half an hour. The door opened to his cell, spreading blinding light that made him blink and squint to see. While he was struggling to gain his bearings, somebody wrapped their hand around his wrist and pulled him up, unclipping the chain that held him to the wall. Leonardo said nothing, not after the act he pulled.

Still, Raphael yelled, sounding more panicked than before. He probably wondered who was next, and honestly, Leonardo didn’t blame him.

Leonardo got dragged into a room far, far away from the cells, and pushed down onto his knees. He cast an indignant glare at the masked guard, then took in the room. There was no light, leaving most of the room in darkness, but ahead of him was a one-way mirror, the room on the other side casting light in and-

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh GOD no.

Donatello was on the other side, already bruised and slightly battered. Leonardo tensed. He KNEW what was going on, he knew what form of torture this was, he didn’t- He- He couldn’t.

The beating started, and Donatello cried out sharply. Leonardo looked away and closed his eyes, unable to watch. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hear it though. Oh yes, he heard every whimper, every hiss, every scream. He could hear the short coughs from a heavy blow, the snap of a bone at some point.

The guard rapped their knuckle against his shell before grabbing him below the jaw, forcing his head up. Still, he squeezed his eyes tighter shut, and the beating only grew worse. Eventually, screams and quiet pleads turned into one long, never-ending wail that only rolled into low moans of pain.

He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t take having the other so close, yet unable to help, still hearing the second youngest’s begging growing desperate.

“Please,” Leonardo looked up, a whine in his voice that he couldn’t stop when he himself begged, “PLEASE, stop, stop- You’ve done enough, he can’t take much more, please stop, please-”

The torture continued. If anything, it only got worse. An itch began to burn and he shook, tears forming behind his eyes.

“I’ll do anything, anything you want, just please STOP, let them go. It’s me you want, Splinter is DEAD, take me and you won’t have to deal with them, please just stop!”

They paused, then held their hand up and, miraculously, the other person stopped, leaving Donatello breathing hard and shaking. He took a moment to take in his brother’s trembling figure, the harsh pants, bruises and cuts, bleeding injuries, burn marks, swollen skin and ripped up scales.

Then he was grabbed again, pulled up and away, out of the room. He looked back, but they had- How had they already taken Donatello away? Would he be alright? That was horrific- His stomach rolled, Leonardo closed his eyes and swallowed to avoid being sick all over the person ahead of him.

As they came to a halt, he was suddenly yanked forward, then shoved into a new cell, far from where he was before.

Hours passed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Not a good thing. Seconds ticked by, and he could only think of what would happen. He was the oldest, he had MICHELANGELO for a brother, he shouldn’t have said “anything”. “Anything” was bad, who knew what they would do with that.

Eventually, the guard came back. They pulled him along through a maze of hallways and corridors until they were somewhere new. A big, open room. To the right was a lever that he was sure couldn’t mean anything good. In front of him was a table, and on it, a revolver and chains beside it. Past that was a thick glass wall and-

His brothers.

They were all chained and on their knees, sitting equal distances apart from each other. Raphael and Michelangelo were fretting over Donatello, asking quiet questions that only received small head shakes or nods. Somebody looked up, then he was pointed out, and they stared, worried for him as well, even though nothing really bad had happened to him yet, nothing bad in comparison to what just happened to Donatello.

The guard grabbed the back of his head and turned it towards them, leaning in to growl a whisper. “You said anything, so here’s what’s going to happen. If you take the chains and bind your own wrists, you’ll give up your freedom. You’ll resign yourself to the Foot Clan and serve them until your last breath. For it, they’ll be let free to live their lives without much worry, as long as they don’t get caught again.

Should you choose the lever, the room will fill with water. You’ll have to watch as everybody in the room drowns, including yourself. You’ll have PLENTY of time to think about what you’ve done, but everybody will technically be ‘free’. You’ll all be free by death.

If you choose the gun, you have an option. You can either shoot one of them, free them and only them by death, or you can shoot yourself. No matter who you choose, everybody else will stay, forced to suffer. Take your pick. Oh, and, you have 60 seconds to pick.”

And with that, they released him and backed out of the room, locking the door as they left.

Well that was-

Certainly something.

Leonardo stepped forward and looked over his options. Picking up the gun, he found out that it only had one bullet. So he really only could shoot one person. It wasn’t a worthwhile decision. He couldn’t bear to leave them, nor look them all in the eyes and kill one of their own. The drowning was a definite no. It had the same result, but with all of them dying instead. Having to watch and explain would be too terrible. The clock was ticking, he had to choose.

Of course, he’d give up his freedom, his sanity in a heartbeat for them. He’d die captive, but they would be free. They’d have to live with his decision, though. They’d have to know he left them.

But it was the best choice, and the clock was ticking.

Leonardo reached his hand out, meeting eyes with his family who he would soon leave, and picked up the chains, twisting and wrapping them around his wrists before stepping back to finalize his decision.

At first, they didn’t know the significance of his choice, but it clicked rather suddenly. When it did, there was disbelief, grief, anger, but no words.

He would have preferred it if they had screamed at him for his choice, but the silence was just fine. It was what he deserved. As he pulled the chains tighter, both doors at each end of the room opened at the same time, and everyone was taken outside.

A cut was made in his shoulder, a chip pushed in afterwards, but Leonardo didn’t feel anything, staring down at his hands. Had he made the right choice? Would they be safe? He couldn’t be certain that these people wouldn’t go back on their word. A bracelet was clipped below the chains, and he was shoved ahead, going upstairs to the roof.

That was a helicopter.

They really were taking him, huh?

Leonardo went in willingly, slowly numbing as time went on.

If he made one more sacrifice, just for them to do something dumb, he swore he would come back from where ever they took him just to strangle them.

Whumptober: The Doctor Is In

Leonardo fixed a wary gaze on the dark figure moving around in the shadows, switching between multiple laptops and a phone while mumbling to themself. A couple moments later, they gave a triumphant laugh, and picked up a syringe. His breathing started spiralling out of control, as it had multiple times in the past couple of days.

Calm, he needed to be calm. What situation was he in, what could he control?

Well, he was bound and gagged, and probably about to get experimented on but-

He could control his breathing and how he reacted to this situation. In, and out. In-

A needle was pushed into his neck and he choked down a whine as he was nearly overwhelmed with exhaustion. The person who injected him with the mystery fluid smirked and grabbed his (his? His, that was a he, Leonardo could see better now) phone. He turned the lights up and forced Leonardo to squint in the sudden, blinding light. Whoever captured him smirked, and held up the phone with the camera pointed at him.

"You’re going to be broadcasted now, everybody will know that there are aliens," Leonardo's rage boiled. They were not aliens (he had been spending far too much time with Donatello). They spent most of their time protecting Earth from aliens! “Remember to smile for the camera."

%%%

They searched everywhere.

Everywhere.

Literally, all across the city, every building they could get to, turning places inside out, scouring the surface for their missing brother. It was like he had just disappeared. The tracker in his phone had stopped working all of a sudden, and they were left in the dark as to where he might've been. Seriously, they nearly beat someone to death looking for clues, for God's sake! Where was he?

They were going on a wild goose chase with no good outcome if they had zero idea where he disappeared to, a handful of leads, and barely any clues. At that point, they were desperate. They'd take anything given to them, as long as they got closer to solving the mystery.

Suddenly, the city lighting changed while they were looking around. There was a deafening sound of microphone feedback from multiple points across the city, forcing everybody to cover their ears, mutant or human. The city went silent.

New York City was not supposed to be silent.

Three brothers tensed and looked up when the sound had passed, tense and ready for a fight.

But there was no threat, just some dude in his mid-twenties in a brightly lit room. He looked like Bishop, almost. If Bishop was about ten years younger, had longer hair, and a ton more spunk and energy. Donatello got drained just by looking at him, and that was saying something, considering he had Michelangelo as a brother.

But this kid had also apparently found a way to access every large screen in New York, so that probably wasn't good.

"People of New York!" He began, "Believe me if you will, but I have found an alien!"

Donatello and Raphael shared a look, something skeptical, wary, and incredulous. Michelangelo was enthralled, as if aliens were something new to him. The camera turned quickly, a blur of white and blue and green and-

The three blanched as they took in the sight, and people gasped below.

Leonardo, tied hand and foot with a gag in his mouth. Leonardo, looking far more tired than before he left. Leonardo, bandaged and stitched in some places. Dread hit Donatello first, followed by unadulterated rage. So that’s where he had been all that time. Probably, he had been right underneath their noses, and yet they just never saw it. Now, he paid the price.

"I suspect that there are more, not just this one. This is just the beginning of something bigger."

There were a few murmurs from below, as if the people of New York hadn't lived through multiple invasions that they stopped. It wasn't anything new. Had this kid- Correction: Man- Been living in a bubble?

"Today, my dear people, I will be running experiments. We, together, are going to see what makes it go tick. What can we move today? If any other aliens are watching, this is a threat. We have one of your own, I'd recommend backing off of our planet."

Donatello felt sick and turned away when the sounds started up. Sounds of tools he knew, but would never even think of using on his family, or anyone for that matter. It got worse, muffled screams of agony reaching him even through his oldest brother's gag, the background noise of machinery, and the speaker that Donatello doubted was any good. The wails came through crystal clear, as if there was nothing to block it with.

Raphael covered Michelangelo's ears as the youngest borrowed into his plastron, choking back sobs.

It took a minute for Donatello to realize that he himself was trembling madly, unable to get relief from the second-hand torture until the government eventually interfered. This broadcast was definitely not under official order.

“They’re-” Michelangelo cried, “They’re hurting him! They’re hurting him, we have to do something!”

“What we need to do is find him.” Donatello curled his hands into fists so that his knuckles turned white, “He’ll kill him at this rate.”

Raphael, for the first time in a while, served as a voice of reason. “But everybody has seen Leo now. The people who don’t think it’s a hoax will be actively looking for us and the Mutanimals-”

“I don’t care,” Donatello hissed, trying to keep his voice low, “that’s our brother he’s experimenting on, and I’m not leaving him.”

“Don’t make a scene, Don.” Raphael looked down and tried to soothe Michelangelo without moving his hands away from his ears, “We’ll be found sooner if you do.”

Donatello took a breath and tried to soothe his frayed nerves. That was… Incredibly uncharacteristic of him. He shouldn’t have lashed out at Raphael like that, it wasn’t his fault. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Raphael nodded, and started moving, hesitantly taking his hands off of Michelangelo’s ears and nudging him to move. Donatello would have preferred it if he had yelled back.

They went around their usual area, going back to places where they thought they were on to something, and people had gotten fleeting glances at their missing brother. Donatello tried to block out the wails, to no avail. It was just a constant reminder that they were so close, yet so far.

Don’t give up yet, he reminded himself, You’ll be giving up on him if you do that.

Below them, there was a great deal of reactions from people. Some had their phones out, either recording (ew) or calling a number. Others had covered childrens’ eyes and ears, and were moving away, trying to get away from the gruesome experimentation. The rest were skeptical, afraid, wary, angry, or morbidly fascinated. Donatello wished that the screens would go back to their normal ads and programs already, anything, just not having to witness his oldest brother in splintering agony.

Half an hour passed. Wails and screams turned to soft cries and grunts, then silence beside ragged breathing.

Donatello risked sneaking a look, and froze like a deer in headlights.

He shouldn’t- He shouldn’t have looked like that. There was blood everywhere, splattered on clothes, on scales, on the floor and walls, but unfortunately not onto the camera. There were some things missing, removed by a mad doctor who was probably out of his mind. Leonardo was wrecked almost beyond recognition, if Donatello hadn’t seen his brother just moments earlier.

He bit back a sob, unable to look away. It was unethical. It was gruesome. It was awful.

Michelangelo grabbed his shoulder, jolting him out of his paralysis. Donatello turned to look at him and realized that there were tears flowing down his own cheeks. Behind him, the sounds finally stopped, the lighting changed. The screens were finally back under control. Raphael joined Michelangelo’s side and nodded to Donatello, looking about as sorrowful as Donatello felt.

%%%

They had no leads, had to (literally) go underground to avoid getting caught, and couldn’t even go up to the surface to help with investigation. Casey and April took over the investigation, but didn’t have much luck either. They were getting desperate, grasping at straws. They’d take anything at that point, just remembering seeing that madman play with Leonardo’s body like he was a doll, ripping him almost to pieces.

%%%

Leonardo gasped in pain and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to assess the damage. His head was swimming from the pain and blood loss, he could barely remember his own name at the moment, but if he wanted to find a way out, he needed to remember what was not going to move and what wasn’t there anymore.

Shoot, at this rate, how did he even plan on living to the next day? He needed to get out fast, but his body wouldn’t move when he told it to, it wouldn’t even budge.

The male from earlier came back, holding another syringe filled with ominous blue liquid. Oh. Oh, no. His day just kept getting better and better, huh?

%%%

“I FOUND SOMETHING!” April yelled as she busted into the lair.

Everybody was on their feet immediately, ready to take anybody out and get Leonardo back.

“His name is Alek Wright, twenty-four, American. He just graduated college recently, believes in the supernatural, and is extremely unethical and willing to take risks.”

Oh. That explained a lot about why he was so eager to move things around that should not have been moving. He really was a “mad scientist”.

Raphael bit the inside of his cheek.

There was blood everywhere, splattered on clothes, on scales, on the floor and walls, but unfortunately not onto the camera. There were some things missing, removed by a mad man. Leonardo was wrecked almost beyond recognition, ripped to pieces on camera.

“What are we waiting for?” he growled and shook his head to clear away the image. “We need to go find him. You got an address of some kind?”

April nodded and led them outside. He prayed that they wouldn’t be too late, and that there wouldn’t just be a bloody mess waiting for them.

%%%

“This is the place?” Raphael whispered, itching to just get in and get his older brother already.

April nodded, and Raphael wrinkled his nose. It definitely fit the “lab” description. Tall building, definitely not housing, multiple floors, and clearly well maintained and used frequently. How the heck did this dude get a hold of a building like that? There was no way that he wasn’t part of something official if he got his hands on something so professional looking.

“Then let's get in and get Leo!” Michelangelo huffed and fidgeted, trying to stare through the windows.

Donatello nodded, and looked to Raphael, the leader while Leonardo was gone. He nodded back, and the four, including April, snuck inside. They wandered around a bit, looking for something, anything, and then-

Blood. Lots, and lots of blood, trailing into a room. Logically, they followed it into a separate room, one with multiple pieces of well-used equipment, computers, bright lights and-

Leonardo. Bloody and half dead, multiple pieces of his body replaced with something else, and asleep. Or maybe unconscious? Perhaps he passed out from the blood loss. Either way, Raphael didn’t know. But he did know that he was running towards his oldest brother as fast as he could and crouching in front of him, a hand on his neck to check his pulse.

It was weak and kept stuttering, but it was there. He was alive.

“Oniichan,” Raphael breathed, “We’re here for you, don’t worry. We’ll get you out of this pit.”

“HA!” Came a victorious laugh from behind them, “I was right! There are-”

Gone. Before Raphael knew what he was doing, he had stood up and whirled on his heel, tossing multiple kunai into that mad man’s face. It wasn’t the most ethical thing he could have done, but it worked, and he was dead at their feet. Nobody said anything, probably satisfied with the outcome. The “doctor” would never bother them again.

Donatello helped Raphael pick Leonardo up, hovering around him nervously and occasionally holding his hand over Leonardo like it would do something. Raphael felt a pang of pity for his younger brother, but refused to let Leonardo go, not so soon after finding him.

%%%

At home, Donatello had hooked Leonardo up to multiple machines and sat nearby for watch while waiting for him to wake up. He had to set multiple things right on Leonardo’s body if he wanted anything to go well.

A soft sigh of relief escaped him as he settled to just listen to the steady heartbeat belonging to his oldest brother. He was alive, he was alive, he was-

It flatlined, and Donatello stumbled to his feet, reaching over to Leonardo. CPR, he knew CPR, but it had to be shorter than a minute, or he wouldn’t be able to do it. Shorter than a minute-

Raphael and Michelangelo came flying in, and hovered nearby when they saw Donatello doing CPR. They’d need to be there if Donatello couldn’t do it.

He barely noticed them, though, repeating the mantra “30 compressions, 2 breaths” in his head. If he forgot, he would never let himself live it down.

It took longer than a minute. Donatello had to step back, trembling from exhaustion, and let Raphael take over. He couldn’t get him back either, and Michelangelo went next. When that failed, Donatello went next, repeating the mantra again. Then the heartbeat started back up again, and the relief in the room was almost palpable. Some way, somehow, he was still kicking.

“Well,” Donatello said, “I think I’m going to take a nap now before my heart fails me too. Mikey, can you watch him? Wake me up if something goes wrong.”

Whumptober: Touch And Go (2/5)

A/N: I’m going to preface this with the fact that I’m probably representing touch starvation very wrong

_______________________________________________________________

Leonardo let his hand slide down from the wall, backing up slowly. “Just get out and don’t wait up, alright?”

They better leave, if they didn’t he’d-

He didn’t know what he’d do, because the soldiers were coming and he needed to go. He hoped they left already. They didn’t say anything, so either they were thinking, or they were gone, and it better had been the latter.

Taking a deep breath to soothe his fraying nerves, he turned to fight, charging the next round of guards before suddenly ducking to the left and using somebody as a stepping stone to get higher up. Leo grabbed the support beams, heaved himself up and kept running, hopping along because he knew that if he fell, that would be the end.

He really did know another way out, but it would take some effort to get there, and he had to get the guards off his tail first so that they wouldn’t follow him back to the lair.

For a minute, he paused, bringing his katanas down in deadly slashes to take some of the enemies down and ward off a few more, before turning back and running again, preferring to preserve his energy for the time.

At the end of the hall, he could see his way out, and they were still following him. He needed them off his tail, fast. Turning to face them again, Leo bounced backward to brace for a hit. If he let them follow him, he'd lead them straight to their home, straight to his brothers and then it would be all for naught.

He was getting tired, he realized. Getting tired wasn't good, not now. His breaths came in short, ragged puffs, and he was taking more and more hits by the second. Soon, he would only be running on slivers of adrenaline. Once those ran out?

Leo bit the side of his tongue at the thought of the grim outcome.

He had to turn to run again, before something happened. There were significantly more injuries than before, and that was definitely his sign he needed an out.

There, there was his exit. But there were still several guards following close behind. A sharp right should throw them off, draw them away, he could get back to it later.

And, he should have bought his family enough time, right? They had to have gotten away.

Something cut through the air, a loud sound like the phaser guns on Space Heroes followed by a whizz that ended by his ear, and there was a BURN in his shoulder. Beside him, the injury almost sizzled and smoked, and blood immediately slicked his entire shoulder and upper arm.

Against all logic, it startled him into stillness, gripping his shoulder tightly to try and stop the blood flow. He hadn't ever seen injuries like that before, so it was startling to say the least (besides that one time. They didn't talk about that one time).

Suddenly, somebody crashed into him, and he went down hard.

Then, his hands were behind his back, there were multiple people holding him, and he kicked and tried to roll.

But there were multiple guards and one of him. His wrists were tied despite his struggles, and he was stripped of his weapons right before he was roughly pulled up.

If they weren't sworn enemies, he would have almost been offended that he wasn't even given the chance to try to walk. Instead, they dragged him halfway across the building, taken lower and lower, past the core, even further down. He didn’t even know that there were lower levels, but they just kept going down until they were so far from the surface he feared he could have been smothered.

Which, was a legitimate worry at that point.

Instead of smothering him, they brought him further back once they seemed to have hit the lowest level, to the very back corner of the maze of hallways, and locked him into a room. They just. Left him.

It was well lit, but completely empty, and once the door was shut he wouldn’t have been able to tell that it was ever there at all.

His hands were bound, and he had virtually nothing at the moment, but he still began to plan.

%%%

Step, step, step, step, step, turn.

Step, step, step, step, step, turn.

Repeat again, over and over.

While it could have been worse, they had actually forgotten about him in that back corner. It was honestly funny to him. Just going to leave him in a corner, huh? He assumed that they were waiting for him to die, either by his own body or from time, whichever happened to hit him first.

Leo would have thought it was a little funny, if the hunger weren’t tearing him apart from the inside out. It felt like a stupid worry to him. There were so many worse things to think about, but he still managed to be worried about food of all things?

How about, instead, he worried about how long he had been there? There wasn’t really a way to tell time, there was just a haze between waking and sleeping.

He was vaguely confused about the whole situation, though. They had him captured, wouldn’t they have wanted something from him?

Or was he just bait, they usually wanted all of them at once, they couldn’t take them out one at a time, for some reason.

Leo continued to pace, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until the door slid open, and a guard walked in. He waited calmly, patiently, for them to have completely entered the room, before jumping them. Yes, he was aware that his hands were bound, but he knew that those were metal binds. He could use them as a weapon with enough agility.

The guard grabbed him and shoved him down, using the binds to shake him before grabbing his upper arm.

Leo froze, startled by the sudden touch, the lightning flowing along from the grip followed by a deep want for the touch. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Afraid? Disappointed? Angry? Against his will, he let out a short mix between a cry and a whine. He didn’t like it, the touch was bad, the sound he made because of it was worse, but he wanted the touch, he hadn’t seen anyone or anything outside the room, but the touch wasn’t even human, nor anything positive-

He was spiraling again, he had been doing that too much recently, because the guard was using that to their advantage to drag him up and out.

Just because he wasn’t fully functioning did not mean that he still wasn’t against getting moved around to some second location. He kicked and struggled, pulling away in some kind of desperation and actually managing to get some good hits in on the way.

But there were guards, they grabbed his shoulders, pushing at the injury to keep him still. Slowly but surely, they forced him along, up and outside. He squinted in the bright light- They were risking moving him in the day? What in the world were they-

A short grunt escaped him as he landed in a truck. Before he could try to get back out, or say something, or really do anything, the doors had closed, cutting the light off, and the engine was turning on. Fantastic, he really was getting moved to a second location.