Whumptober: Im Better Off All By Myself (5/5)

Whumptober: I’m Better Off All By Myself (5/5)

A/N: Title from Toxic by BoyWithUke

~~~

Whatever Donatello was expecting, it was not for Leonardo to suddenly collapse like that. By some miracle, he caught the oldest, and noticed a few things. The first was a wound on his shoulder, just a small incision made recently. The second was the sheer amount of scars that littered his brother’s skin, looking more like a canvas drawn on with pastels by a toddler than something blank. The third was how light he was. For giant mutant turtles, they were really heavy, as long as they had been maintaining their health. However, he was worryingly easy to hold after he was caught, even while unconscious.

Raphael reached over on instinct, a little late, but there nonetheless.

"Wait what-"

"What's wrong, Doctor Donnie?" Michelangelo whined.

Donatello fixed his grip on Leonardo to pull him closer. "I've got a few ideas, but let's just get him in the lab for now. Set up a cot."

He shifted Leonardo to rest against his side and Raphael and Michelangelo disappeared. Donatello was assuming that it had to be some kind of exhaustion, definitely severe, but he'd have to be sure.

After laying the oldest down, Donatello stepped away to grab his tools, then returned, giving him a thorough once over. Dear God, what had he been doing in his time away?

"Well," he finally concluded, "I'm sure that he collapsed from severe exhaustion. There are multiple injuries from various sources all across his body, and residue of metal in his shoulder. There's also red marks on his wrists, most likely from restraints. He's been working under severe malnutrition, probably for some time."

Raphael took a sharp breath, Michelangelo's breathing hitched.

Oh well, they had to find out one way or another.

%%%

Leonardo blinked a few times upon waking, trying to gain his bearings. He was laying on a cot, he noticed first. And he was in a lab. Now, was the lab good or bad, and why was he-

"LEO!" Michelangelo launched himself onto Leonardo, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Donatello and Raphael followed shortly after, Raphael taking his hand and holding it tight, Donatello crouching beside him.

"Now, Leo," Donatello started. Oh dear. "I'd love to stay and celebrate, but WHAT THE ACTUAL F-"

Leonardo frowned and elbowed him hard before wrapping his arms around Michelangelo and sitting up.

"What happened? You literally collapsed in front of us!"

He flinched. They were really asking? Already?

Instead of saying something that would probably be more healthy, he smiled and said:

"Donnie, I just got back. Can't we wait?"

All eyes turned to Donatello, some neutral, some pleading, and the doctor huffed, clearly unhappy with this arrangement.

"Fine."

%%%

Leonardo, after he had gotten Donatello to stop asking questions, had been dragged to watch a movie with them for "quality bonding".

Actually, this scene kind of reminded him of-

Walking and walking, all across America. No way to get directions, unable to find home. He wanted to call home, but his phone was probably getting tracked, and he couldn't risk letting them find his home.

Maybe if he got the microchip out and his vitals band off, but he couldn't, not easily.

Back and forth, running and getting attacked, getting found over and over again because they were tracking him.

He had to get that bracelet off. If he could get the bracelet and microchip out and off, he'd be completely off the grid, they'd never find him again.

Leonardo grabbed a brick and slammed it down, over and over. He didn't care when he hit his own skin and busted open flesh, bruising and bleeding. He just needed it OFF. The band continued to wear down until it broke off, it's more delicate bits shattered to pieces. One down, one to go.

He was breathing heavily when he snatched up one of the broken shards, cutting open his shoulder and digging around to find it. His fingers bumped the little metal chip and he latched on, ripping it out, using the very same brick to smash it to pieces.

He was finally-!

Metal scraped against concrete.

They found him again.

"Hey Leo, you’re looking kinda distant, you good?" It was just Michelangelo. He was back.

"Mhm, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom."

Leonardo untangled himself from the pile they had made, excusing himself to the bathroom. After locking the door, he fell back against the tub and let out a short breath. The cold felt nice against hot skin. It helped soothe him.

He felt sick.

There was a roof over his head, he had his family, he was safe, and yet he was still scared. He was worrying them, like an idiot.

Somebody was knocking on the door.

"Hey, Leo? You okay? I'd uh- I'd also like to use the bathroom."

It was just Michelangelo. Nobody else.

Leonardo hurried to his feet, unlocked the door, and threw it open.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to take so long."

%%%

Leonardo skidded in a sharp turn, nearly falling onto his side in the rain. He liked the feeling of the icy rain pelting down on him. It made him calm, it made him feel clean. He liked the cold, but he didn't like-

Thunder, rain washing blood-stained scales. A voice came over comms, startling him out of his thoughts. It was too loud.

"You have your target?"

"Of course."

He always had his target, like it or not. Leonardo released a low breath before slipping into the building. It was one more person, one more civilian. He didn’t know them and he honestly didn’t care to know them. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t see the fear in their eyes before death, the strangled scream that never got to escape, because they were already dead, harsh breathing coming to a stop from an untimely death.

His morals had been lost a long time ago, this only put up walls to prevent them from returning.

It didn’t matter though. He’d do anything as long as they didn’t go looking for his family to hold them at gunpoint and threaten him, or, worse, kill them.

Lightning lit up the sky, revealing silhouettes that waited for him to give them the all clear. He hated this job, hated being a hitman, it went against everything he had believed. But if he needed to, he would train his hands to never let go of the hilt of a sword, always have a weapon or something dangerous on him, prepared to kill anyone at a signal. If he needed to, he would only know blood and death, fear before a killing blow, and darkened skies.

He wasn’t standing in front of a body, covered in blood. He was standing in front of the turnstiles, soaked and too afraid to come in to get a towel because he didn’t want to leave puddles on the floor.

Pathetic.

Raphael paused, letting up the heat on the training dummy for a bit to come and greet him with a towel in hand.

“Where were you?” He rumbled, “We thought you ran off on us so soon after coming back.”

Hardened emerald green eyes, softening with guilt and fear as they were taken away. Wondering, desperate as they looked to the bound hands of their older brother.

Leonardo took the towel. It was soft and warm, like it had just come out of the dryer.

“Sorry, I just wanted to get out, and then it started raining.”

Raphael nodded like he understood. He probably did. Leonardo had seen the hot head leave to blow off steam enough times to know that he definitely did.

Once dry, Leonardo quietly thanked Raphael, took the towel right back to the washing machine, and left to go practice a couple of katas.

The dojo was, thankfully, nothing like-

An eerily silent dojo with a wooden floor that hurt to fall on, so he tried not to. Still, that was hard when he was fighting too many enemies. They wanted him to be able to fight a group, but they had already injured him beforehand and his blood stained the wood red. It was a test, and he was failing.

Somebody knocked him onto his plastron, and suddenly they were all upon him, pinning him down, hands on the edge of his shell to keep good control of him.

Then, by some silent command, they were called off. He was released and exposed to a different kind of pain. Electricity coursed through him from both the chip and his bracelet, hot and agonizing. Leonardo could only whine, too used to this treatment-

Leonardo was not laying on a wooden floor. He was crouched on a tatami mat, silent tears running down his face while somebody rubbed soothing circles on his shell, hushing him.

They… Didn’t ask about why he was crying or what was wrong. They just soothed him and respected his boundaries.

He didn’t think he had ever been more grateful for his family.

Whumptober: All Trussed Up And Still Nowhere To Go

It was supposed to be a simple patrol, a little investigation. They had suspected this group of being corrupt, or maybe doing some black market trade. It was supposed to be fine. Instead, they were running for their lives, lurching past closing walls and doors in a desperate attempt to get to the roof. At least up there, they would have a fighting chance, without humans chasing them down, taking shortcuts that they didn't know of, routes that could have saved them so much time and possibly even have allowed them to avoid this whole situation.

Michelangelo, in front, slammed the roof access door open, and they all flooded out after him. There was no time to close doors, no time to be quiet, they had to go right then. As they kept running, Leonardo glanced behind, no humans followed them up, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t more following from the ground.

Stupid multi-building complex. It limited their ability to get out fast, and meant a bigger chance of being seen by the people who owned it or worked at it.

Alarms started up, and bright spotlights were turned on and shoot, they weren’t going to make it out, were they? He caught the look Raphael sent him, and he couldn’t exactly read it, but he had a good enough idea of what his brother was trying to get across to him. Past that, Donatello and Michelangelo shared a glance and they both looked terrified. They were all scared, he knew that, he could feel the distant terror himself, but letting it take over meant capture.

It meant death.

All he could do was keep up at the rear and make sure everyone was alright in the moment because at the very least, they knew a path out once on the rooftop.

...Dang it, he was right. There were people at the bottom of the buildings, dressed in black, bulletproof equipment and holding guns. If you squinted, more specifically, dart guns.

Oh, so they were aiming for- OH-

They were aiming for capture.

“GUYS!” Leonardo shouted over the wind and the alarms, getting their attention, “Watch out for the guns!”

There was a flash of terror in the youngest’s eyes as he glanced at Leonardo and Donatello looked down, the crease between his eye ridges deepening. Raphael only nodded, never looking back.

And then, all of a sudden, there was a dart in his neck and his vision was blurring. It started on the outside, barely noticeable, and then it intensified, pushed further in and gave him tunnel vision. Of course he ripped it out immediately, he wasn’t stupid.

But he wasn’t fast enough, the drug had entered his system and it was taking its toll. He was aware of the fact that he was lagging behind, after all, with his limited vision, he could see that they were getting ahead. He could see it, but he was tired, he was so, so tired. It felt like he could lay down and sleep forever, but in the recesses of his mind, he knew he had to stay awake. Just a little longer, just a little longer. There was a jump coming up, he had to make it, he couldn’t not.

It was… It was a lot bigger than he anticipated, he realized as they came up closer. They didn’t usually make jumps that big in a night. Not only that, but they would be jumping over barbed wire to get to the other building outside the complex. If one of them didn’t make it and fell? They’d be feeling that for weeks, assuming they weren’t taken because of the slip up. His worries could only grow.

I’m not going to make it, he realized bitterly. That was just a truth he would have to accept. He was not going to make it. They’d have to leave him.

He could only pray they were smart enough to realize that.

Michelangelo went first, doing a little aerial spin to show off while mid-air. Made it.

Donatello was second, more wary of the size of the gap, but still jumping when he believed the timing was right. Made it.

Raphael went next. He jumped just a tad too early and ended up skittering at the edge, but he made it.

It was Leonardo’s turn next, and he was dreading it. Why even try when he knew he was going to fall? He was dizzy and tired, everything was moving in slow motion and he could barely hear the alarms, but he was aware enough to realize that Raphael had paused to wait, realizing the eldest had fallen behind.

Idiot.

He knew he would fall, but Leo jumped anyway.

He jumped just a tad too early, misjudging the distance.

He skittered at the edge.

He did not make it.

Raphael had only stayed about a foot away from the edge, off to the side, and lurched forward, grabbing Leonardo by the wrist and grunting from the effort it took to keep him up.

“Gods- Fearless, how much have you been eating-?”

He took a second to take in Leonardo’s appearance. The moment it clicked was clear, and Leonardo felt sick.

“Oh,” the hot-head whispered, then turned and yelled for Donatello, resident doctor. He realized he wasn’t going to be able to do it alone. Their shells were heavy, Leonardo knew from experience from holding his brothers up.

Donatello screamed something back over the alarms, but Leonardo heard a gun reload and he didn’t want his brothers there anymore. Still, Raphael lingered, clinging on desperately. Donatello argued with Michelangelo in the background, screamed at him to leave. There were people coming out of buildings and police blocks and if his brothers didn’t leave soon, they'd all be goners.

“Hey, idiot,” Raphael has to yell, “Stay awake, alright? You ain’t dyin’ here. Stay with me. You can’t die here.”

The last part felt more desperate, and he could feel the shake in Raphael’s hands. Leonardo wanted to say something, wanted to reassure him or to pull himself up, but his tongue felt heavy as he struggled to speak, to say what he needed. Somewhere, in the back of his brain, hidden in the depths of the fog, he knew that in the end, Raphael would not be strong enough to hold him when he passed out. Donatello would not be fast enough to assist the hothead.

He was going to fall, and he knew it, even when he couldn't form coherent thoughts, even when he was fighting to stay awake.

Finally, Leonardo realized what he needed to say before he could leave them behind. It had to be fast, though, so he could get the message across quickly.

“I love you,” he choked out, vision darkening as he fought desperately to stay away, “I love you, I love you-”

The eldest was slipping. They were heavy, Raphael could not do it alone, he was slipping.

Donatello, in the back, finally sent Michelangelo away, then turned and raced towards them. Leonardo had fallen before he ever managed to get near, he heard the hot-head scream, but he didn’t ever remember letting go.

There were more humans coming, there were people with guns, Donatello had to grab Raphael’s shoulder and tear him away.

In the last moment he was awake, he remembered being faintly proud of them.

Leonardo was out long before he ever hit the ground.

%%%

The blue-clad turtle woke slowly. Sleep tugged at his mind and tried to convince him to return, but he knew he couldn’t. Something was wrong, something was wrong but what was-?

Oh.

Oh right.

As he became more aware, he realized that his arms and sides burned from scrapes and cuts. He must have fallen onto the barbed wire. He couldn’t see anything, but from the smell of disinfectant and other various chemicals, he knew that it was at the very least clean. But, with a little more movement and a sudden protest from sore muscles and damaged scales, he realized he was tied up.

Really tight, at that. Behind him, his arms and wrists were held together, legs bound at the knee and ankle, and his arms actually tied to his torso. It didn’t take long to realize he had been like that for a while, from how badly he was hurting in those areas. Did they really need to truss him up? At least it was quiet. It allowed him to think, with nothing other than the soft whir of machinery and the hum of fluorescent lights in other places that reminded him of Donatello’s lab.

There was nothing to do, the restraints could not be broken, and there was still a fuzzy feeling in his head. Maybe he could go back to sleep?

As he reconsidered and silently scolded himself for giving up, a door opened up, letting a blinding bright light into the room. Somebody walked in, and, as a reminder that he couldn’t hurt them, two armed men (men? Maybe women, he didn’t know) stood at the doorway.

So that’s the kind of place it was, huh? Dang it.

He writhed and wiggled even though he knew the binds were so tight they might as well be tourniquets, and he couldn't escape them. He hissed and snapped when he was lifted up by the edge of his shell and dragged along to a gurney where the binds were taken off so that he can quickly be tied down to the bed and secured more efficiently. His mind was so foggy from the leftover drug that he couldn't even fight it, just hiss and make that intimidating growl that alligators make to try and dissuade them from messing with him. The scientist(? Guard? Keeper?) was phased only for a second, then pushed the gurney along. The real guards, however, were not at all phased, they only hiss back.

Leonardo could only wonder where they were taking him. If the thick scent of chemicals in the air was any indicator, he would presume it was some kind of lab.

When they come to a stop, he realizes that the room they were in had quite a bit of medical equipment in it and-

Oh, that was a CT scan. Of course.

He began to regret everything, because really, there was no better time to be worrying than right at that moment. They move him from spot to spot, making sure he didn’t wriggle to his freedom or accidentally get hurt while they did… Whatever they were doing. The scribble of a pen on paper, and various clicks and beeps were his sign that they were actually gathering some kind of results from their tests. And then, the unarmed person put on gloves, and began to try and force his mouth open, and Leonardo presumed it was for a cheek swab. He growled, loud and clear, then suddenly forced his jaws back closed onto their hand, biting hard enough to draw blood. They yelped and pulled their hand back, and oh man that was a gun at his head.

His breathing hitched and he was afraid, but the unarmed human said not to shoot. He was new and prized, they wanted him alive. The next time, the guards forced his mouth open and he growled and spit while the scientist got the cheek swap. There was a scale sample taken afterwards, and a blood sample after that. When they were all done, he was taken back to the room, trussed up again, and left alone.

Or-

Maybe this was a different room? There was a camera in this one. Or maybe there was a camera in the last one (or the same one) and he didn't notice.

…

Even so, now that the drugs were fully wearing off, he was afraid. They were leaving him alone in an empty room, with no idea what was going to happen and he was scared, dang it. The cuts were stinging and he was sore, he had no idea how long he had been bound for. There were humans who knew of their existence, and he prayed to whatever deity was listening that his brothers were okay, that they left after he fell before they could be spotted by even more people or captured.

Oh wait, when was his last tetanus shot? Was the wire rusty? Shoot.

But, then again, maybe he already got one. They did want him alive, after all.

He struggled with the restraints for a bit, but gave up rather quickly, realizing nothing was going to happen.

The second ticked by like minutes. He wasn’t entirely sure how long it was until the door opened up again, but he did know that it was a different person. Still, there were two guards again. He was dragged out and tied to the gurney again, but this time there was another drug, a needle pushed into the side of his neck and he was immediately groggy. There was a thick fog in his mind, he couldn’t think and could barely move, muscles relaxed, forced to be calm on his way there, could barely see anything with the way his vision blurred, first at the edges, then quickly moving in until it was all blurry.

Separate rooms and bright, fluorescent lights faded away until he was in a darker part of the building, more sounds of animals to be heard, but not ones he had ever heard before. Guttural grunts, violent screams, and long howls melded together into the perfect mix for a skull-shattering migraine. What, was this some kind of messed up zoo?

Eventually, he was brought into a smaller room, carefully untied and plopped in. It was darker and smaller but the floor was a heck of a lot softer and oh, they thought he was a normal animal. Guess his magician's trick was working.

Extra large turtle to be shown to people and private collectors, coming right up, he presumed. Well, if he was already viewed as an animal, might as well keep that ruse up. Things would definitely get worse if they realized he was actually intelligent.

%%%

Was he gone for hours? Days? Weeks? Honestly, he didn’t know, nor did he want to.

However, over the next period of time, they were trying more and more foods. At least they didn’t want him to starve?

At first, they tried insects, trying to follow some kind of turtle’s diet, he guessed. But, at first, he had standards, and did not want the insects.

The next time they tried (he thought they tried after a few days), they brought various fruits. Still, he did not eat, even if it was just to spite them when they realized that their new pet wasn’t going to eat.

They tried some raw meat after, trying to toss it closer to him to see if they could provoke him into taking it. But, he had starved himself, and the smell only made his stomach roll, and yes, he was sick all over their (not so) nice floor.

At last, they tried some small fishes, this time giving him distance. Still, he wouldn’t touch it. They had to break eventually, right? He knew this method, knew from personal experience with other animals that it worked.

But the caretakers did not give. They only struggled, getting worried, not knowing how long he wouldn’t eat for and concerned that stress will make him starve, but he definitely had enough energy to bite them when they tried to get close.

Eventually, they came around and tried fruit again, hoping that it would spark some interest with something soft and sweet.

And, as ashamed as he was about it, Leonardo gave, devoured it like a wolf. If he planned on getting out, then he needed the energy and strength.

After regaining some of his energy, and realizing that he was free to move around, he began to pace around the room, never leaving the all-fours position in case they were watching, and trying to find some kind of weak point he could use for his escape.

Sleep, eat, drink, look for weak points, repeat. Over and over, no change in the routine, until.

Until they opened the door one day, a metal cage that felt too small just looking at it pushed up against the doorway. There were two guards, per usual, behind it, and a keeper stepping over the cage to get to him.

And holy crap, they were strong.

Despite his screams like a child denied a piece of candy, they wrestled him down and strapped a muzzle over his face to keep him from taking off somebody’s hand, then clipped a collar around his neck, a lead attached to it to try and drag him along. As soon as they stood up, though, believing that he would be calm after being restrained, he made a mad dash straight at the crate, dragging them along behind him, and jumped over it. Their grip loosened on the leash, and he was more than satisfied to hear them cry out as they crumpled behind him.

How did he forget about the guards there, though? He didn’t know. In his desperate attempt to get free, he had forgotten about the people standing there to prevent escape.

One wrapped their arms around his torso and forced him down, restraining flailing limbs and dragging him backwards while trying not to have something slammed into them. The other held the cage in place for them while the first wrestled him into it.

While he made as much noise as possible to very clearly represent his disappointment in them and threw himself against the bars, truly throwing himself into the “feral animal” role, they tried not to drop him while bringing him elsewhere.

The next room he was in was as dim as the last and dead silent. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop without even trying, and that fact was almost disconcerting. There should have been some kind of sound. The whir of light or machinery, other people, other creatures, but there was just… Nothing.

Leonardo made the mistake of hesitating to try and hear anything, right before they set him down rather roughly, rough enough to send him tumbling onto his side and for the keeper to scold the other two for pretty much dropping him. Before he could get up, a needle was pushed into his neck again, and it didn't take much to realize that this drug worked much faster than the other two.

He was half-asleep within seconds, and before he could try to tell himself to stay aware, he was completely out.

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: Field Care 101

The first time they had gone up to the surface, they had no clue what they were walking into. It had gone completely unnoticed that they had been stepping into a war, until they were almost killed by Shredder.

After that, all of them had thrown themselves into their training, learning both how to fight more efficiently while together or apart, and basic first-aid. Donatello still knew the most about medical things, but they, at the very least, knew how to handle themselves if they had injuries.

Donatello knew the most.

Which meant all of them were clueless when he got knocked down.

He went down hard, knocked over the side of a building, a few sickening thumps and cracks following as he hit a couple obstacles.

Leonardo's stomach dropped. He called to Raphael and Michelangelo to cover him and dropped down after the genius, where was he, where was he-

By some miracle, he was alive, laying on the concrete, oh God that was blood- Crimson, pooling around him staining bandages, his mask, everything. His staff was laying across the alleyway, broken. Leonardo dropped down beside him and lifted him up. Shoot, he was already unconscious? He didn't have much time.

Leonardo traced his hands down busted scales and torn skin, looking for the major source of the blood. It had to be somewhere that would bleed a lot, some kind of artery or, or-

Frick.

Frick.

Heads did bleed a lot, didn't they?

At least it wasn't deep, right? It couldn't be deep, it probably just broke the skin, so it was bleeding.

No such luck. Leonardo didn't know much about how skulls should look, but it was not like that. He needed Donatello, but that was who he was caring for, and he couldn't get answers.

Leonardo wrestled a cloth and some water out of the medicine bag they all had, wetting the cloth, dabbing away blood, and cleaning the wound as best as he could. He followed up with bandages, desperate to stem the bleeding, but trying to remain calm and composed. If he had learned anything from war, it was that panicking helped no one.

As the battle above ended, Michelangelo and Raphael climbed down almost frantically, seeing what was the problem.

"Is he alri-" Michelangelo began, then quickly cut off, noticing the pooling blood, thick and warm and sticky.

"He has a really bad head injury, and we need to move him. Now," Leonardo explained curtly.

He slipped one arm under Donatello's legs, his other under his shell, and carefully lifted him up. There was a low moan that Leonardo tried to ignore as he turned to his other two still standing brothers and tipped his head towards the manhole.

Michelangelo darted forward and opened it, and Raphael hopped down to help carry Donatello down. The thing they needed the least was to accidentally drop him and crack his skull open entirely.

The walk was painfully silent, everybody looking at Donatello every now and again to make sure he was still breathing.

As soon as they were home, they rushed Donatello into the lab. There had to be something that could help them, the resident doctor always kept something useful handy. Donatello was passed off to Raphael to settle somewhere while Leonardo dug through boxes and bins, over desks. It had to be somewhere around, it had to be. He couldn't keep wasting time when the bandages he used earlier were already turning red, when Donatello was getting paler and paler by the minute.

There it was, the heavy kit, reserved for emergencies. Now, he didn't know much, but he was fairly certain that a heavily bleeding head injury counted as an emergency. Leonardo ripped it open, taking what he needed and hurried back to where they had set Donatello up. Praying to whatever deity would listen, he crouched down and tried not to fumble with the needle and thread as he stitched up the wound. The blood flow would stop, and then Donatello would wake up later, right?

...He hoped so, but he tried not to keep his hopes up.

The bandaging process was familiar, the bottom layer soaked to keep the injury clean, and after that? They would have to wait and see.

"I'll keep the first watch," Leonardo murmured, pulling up a chair to sit. It would be a long, long night. "I just wish we had something better for him."

%%%

They swapped back and forth all night, and the next day, and the rest of the week, just taking care of Donatello.

Eventually, Leonardo had to say that he had most likely fallen into comatose, and wouldn't wake up for a long time, if ever. They were simply not qualified to take care of him, and he might never be okay.

Of course it was met with sobs, protests, questions that he could not answer.

When left with silence, though, Leonardo himself expressed frustration, silent tears falling down even when they didn't belong.

Whumptober: Just A Scratch

Leonardo swept one of his katanas down in a graceful arc, tearing open skin like paper and watching the blood spray. His enemy howled in pain, stumbled back, and gripped their injury to try and stem the bleeding, casting a glare at him. They were some werewolf looking group of mutants, nothing too bad as long as none of them-

Apparently, while he was dealing with one, the other two had circled around to his sides, and one had decided to sink its teeth deep into her arm. He grit his teeth, dug his heels into the ground, and slashed at its face as an effective method to dislodge it.

"Get!" He yelled and made a wide gesture with his arms.

The rogue mutants yelped and scrambled to get away, bouncing over each other in their efforts to run back into their hiding places.

Leonardo huffed. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to see or hear about them for a long time.

He turned his attention to the bite wound on his arm and examined it carefully. It wasn't too deep, more like a surface wound then anything. A thin stream of blood trickled down his forearm. He raised an eye ridge, unimpressed by the injuries his enemies had given to him. Reaching down to the little medical pouch he had, Leonardo pulled out some antiseptic and dressed the bite mark before wrapping it tightly. It would heal quickly.

%%%

When he got home, Leonardo spent some time with his family. A promised spar with Raphael, a conference with Donatello to help him with a project he had been struggling with, some gaming with Michelangelo.

As the late hours came along, though, there was a faint feeling of misplacement that didn't belong. He said goodnight and went to bed early, hoping that would do something for his health.

%%%

Michelangelo didn't usually wake up early, but sometimes, that sixth sense specifically meant for finding danger started going off in the middle of the night. That was usually worth listening to.

So that was how he found himself waking up in the dead of night to Leonardo standing over his bedside, holding a tanto blade high above his head, and visibly trembling.

"Don't do it," Michelangelo whispered to Leonardo's shadow, "Please, don't do it. This isn't funny, Leo." Of course it wasn't funny. Leonardo didn't make jokes often, but when he did, they were nothing like this.

Suddenly, Leonardo fell backwards and dropped the blade, thankfully not on Michelangelo. He scooched backwards, and in the darkness, Michelangelo could vaguely see him curling up.

The youngest sat up, squinting. "Are- Are you okay? Leo, are you-"

"I don't know what's going on." His voice was soft, so impossibly soft that he had to strain to hear it.

"Yeah, I can- I can tell."

"Don't tell them, please. I think I can handle this, just- Don't tell them."

Michelangelo hesitated. On one hand, Leonardo was going to kill him, whether he realized it or not. He had been hovering over his bedside with a knife, ready to release him to death.

On the other hand, it almost reminded him of when they were just little children, whispering in the dark not to tell Splinter about something they had done wrong. In the end-

"Just lock my door on the way out, don’t pick the lock, and we'll be good until I wake up."

"Okay. I- Okay."

%%%

Leonardo didn't stay. He left the lair entirely. He didn't want to risk hurting Michelangelo again, or any of his brothers.

%%%

"He still hasn't moved?"

"Nope," Raphael popped the p, looking Leonardo over.

Two hours, and he still hadn't moved from the seiza position. Unless he was under some extreme stress, Leonardo didn't meditate for over half an hour in the morning. Michelangelo still wasn't awake, so he wasn't of any help either.

“You should poke him.”

“Why me?”

“Because if he gets upset or startled, you have a lesser chance of getting taken down.”

“...Fine.”

Raphael crept towards Leonardo, wary of startling the older turtle, and gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Leo, bro? You good?”

Leonardo remained unmoving for a long minute, not responding to Raphael’s prodding. Raphael raised a single eye ridge, getting concerned. Had he fallen asleep? That was very unlike the oldest, who was usually so studious and alert. He moved to give Leonardo a rougher push, maybe that would get him out of it.

“Hey, Leo-”

His eyes slid open, and Raphael let go. There he was, finally awake-

Suddenly, Leonardo lunged forward, drawing his katanas and slamming into Raphael full force. Raphael brought his arms up just in time to block the hit, but still skidded backwards, eyes wide from shock. Did- Did he just-?

There was no time to think, Leonardo was already moving to make his next attack. Raphael drew his sai.

“Dude, what is this?! Snap out of it!”

Donatello ran into the unexpected fight to help Raphael, trying not to hurt Leonardo while still keeping him back. Still, Leonardo was definitely a lot stronger than expected, and Raphael got the feeling that the “prodigal son” hadn’t really been using everything he learned until just now. Shoot. Leonardo knocked Donatello down, sending him across the room, and turned to Raphael with a predator’s gaze. Shoot.

He rolled out of the way as Leonardo came running at him, only for it to be a fake move and get shoved to the ground, efficiently pinned by the older (and apparently strong) of the two. Donatello, having recovered from his stunned state, came running back and gave Leonardo a hard shove, throwing him off if only for a second.

Then Michelangelo joined, slightly disheveled and looking like he had just woken up, but at least he was there.

Blood sprayed and for a moment, everybody (including Leonardo, Raphael noted) froze. Then the battle continued.

Raphael regretted not asking Leonardo before about if he was holding back on them, because now? Now it was definitely clear, and he really wished that he had known about it sooner. Leonardo easily overpowered them, beating them down and aiming for a killing blow whenever he got the chance.

“Leo!” Michelangelo called out, “Bro, it’s us! Calm down-!” He swung the nunchuks, trying to wrap the chains around his oldest brother and restrain him for the time being. Instead, he accidentally hooked one of the blades in Leonardo’s skin.

Leonardo froze. Of course it wasn’t from pain, he was Leonardo “Supernatural Pain Tolerance” Hamato. Raphael hoped it was him coming back to them, but he still had to be wary, just in case this was some kind of trick to make them let their guard down.

Donatello and Michelangelo took the chance, unlike Raphael, and lunged forward, grabbing Leonardo and pinning him down while Michelangelo worked on wrapping the chains around him. Leonardo kicked and thrashed, honest to God hissing at them, and Raphael came to aid them in restraining him.

They pulled him back to a sturdy column, and tied him there, as uncomfortable as if made them. If it needed to be done, then, well...

"Is anybody hurt?" Donatello said at last, "Is anybody bit, or something like that? If this is anything like the time with those wasps, then it'll be good to know now rather than later."

Everyone took a moment to look themselves over. The only injuries seemed to be caused by something artificial, and Raphael swore that he would have noticed if he was bitten.

Donatello nodded, relieved, and crept down to Leonardo's side, moving away fresh bandages to look at the injuries underneath.

"Yeah, look here. Bite mark. Something infected him-"

Leonardo suddenly lunged forward, snapping at Donatello and making sounds that sounded almost inhuman. Raphael darted over to grab the chains because the last thing they needed was Leonardo getting loose.

Donatello froze, his breathing hitching for a second before he leaned back, grabbed a syringe, and leaned closer again.

"Keep holding him, I need a blood sample to try and figure out an antidote."

The oldest behaved actually rather well, going very still and not moving again until Donatello had pulled away. Maybe he was coming back? Even if if was just for a second, he stopped.

%%%

"He's gone!"

"Mikey, who?"

"Leo!"

“What?! Did you get bit? Are there any scratches or anything?”

“No, but Leo’s loose! Raph went after him, but he got a little messed up on the way."

"Then we need to go! The antidote will be ready by the time we're back."

Michelangelo led the way, taking Donatello to where he had left Raphael and Leonardo, who were now battling it out. Well, more accurately, Leonardo was attacking a thoroughly injured Raphael who had to fall back on defense to stay alive.

Then, Leonardo noticed Michelangelo and Donatello. In one smooth, graceful movement, he had Michelangelo in his grip, holding a blade to his throat and backing up. A hostage. They didn't usually take hostages.

Donatello paused and didn't risk moving. Then, he started moving backwards. I'll be back, he mouthed, slowly moving home.

Once Donatello was gone, Michelangelo whined softly, “Raphie-”

Leonardo pushed the blade ever closer to Michelangelo’s throat. He wasn’t playing, that was clear enough. Raphael shivered in terror. He never thought that Leonardo wouldn’t threaten them, even under the influence of something that took him out of his right mind-

No, he wasn’t out of his mind. He was being controlled, moving against his will. It was obvious in the hesitation, the attempts to not attack them, all the times he had suddenly lapsed out of his aggressive behavior. It was all right there. He was right there, but Raphael just didn’t see it. Beneath the controlled state was still Leonardo, as protective as ever, fighting to keep them safe and losing.

At that moment, Leonardo needed Raphael to step up, not to return the hostile behavior. “Leo,” he murmured. “Leo, it’s us. Don’t- Don’t hurt him. You’ll be alright, just put the sword down.”

Raphael swallowed and hoped that his words were doing something. He didn’t think he could take losing one of his brothers.

Leonardo hesitated, actually hesitated, and lowered the blade just a bit, his gaze wavering as he regarded Raphael coldly. C’mon, Raphael silently screamed, Come back to us, idiot.

Then, Donatello reappeared, now behind Leonardo and jabbed a needle into his shoulder. Leonardo shuddered and twisted before collapse, releasing both the sword and Michelangelo in the process.

Donatello grabbed him and slowly lowered him to the ground. "I think it worked?" He called as Michelangelo joined Raphael at his side. “Give it a minute, I think we have him back.”

A few seconds passed before Leonardo gasped softly and blinked a few times. He looked around, grabbed Donatello’s hand, and almost immediately shrunk back.

“Oh.”

He swore under his breath.

“I’m sorry. Oh my God I’m so sorry-”

Leonardo scrambled up to his feet and tore away, backing away from them.

“Leo, you weren’t aware of it.” Raphael soothed, even though Michelangelo was still hiding. “It was like the wasps all over again, alright? It wasn’t you doing it.”

"However,” Donatello interjected, “you will be telling us the whole story while I run some tests."

%%%

“Well,” Raphael said, wrinkling his beak and swishing around the contents in his mug, “That was actually lamer than I expected.”

“Yeah,” Leonardo laughed softly.

“Leo,” Donatello scolded and kicked Leonardo in the shin, “Tell someone next time, alright? This was like that stupid wasp all over again, somebody could have died.”

Leonardo flinched. He knew that all too well. He had seen that he was holding Michelangelo hostage, that he had tried to kill his family, but hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. He was helpless, trapped in his own body and unable to fight back.

“Alright. Sorry, about all of this.”

Whumptober: They Made Me Do It

Leonardo watched Michelangelo run round and round the table, getting chased by the wasp. He timed their passes and got ready to jump, just in case he needed to intervene.

"He's really turned running away screaming into an art form," Raphael quipped, and Leonardo couldn't hide a little amused smile.

"Well, at least he's good at something, right?" Donatello commented. Michelangelo, almost immediately after, tripped, and Donatello followed up with: "Good-ish."

The wasp came crashing down after the youngest, and the older three took that as their cue, hopping out of their hiding spot and towards the giant insect.

But, of course, Michelangelo just had to disobey orders, and struck out with his nunchucks, taking both the wasp, and the others, down in the process before getting dragged around in the wasps panic. Donatello and Raphael were thrown against the wall, leaving only Leonardo standing.

Well, per usual, it was up to Leonardo to do something about it. Pushing back his twinge of annoyance, he drew his katanas, ready to end that thing then and there.

The wasp went at him, much faster than he anticipated, and promptly jabbed its stinger into his arm. His vision went dark as pain erupted in his right arm. The next time he could see again, the wasp was dead on the floor and his brothers were discussing why it died.

"...The wasp died because it lost its stinger." Donatello concluded, giving the dead wasp an experimental poke.

Leonardo couldn't swallow his indignance and blurted out: "Yeah, in me! Thanks a lot, Mikey!" That wasn't like him. He didn't usually yell like that. He wasn't too snappy.

...Usually.

"Heh, sorry dude." Michelangelo laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Let me see that," Donatello said, grabbing the stinger and pulling it out harshly. Leonardo let out a short sound of pain and rubbed the swollen spot on his arm. Ow. "Are you okay?" The purple banded turtle asked.

"Pretty sure, but I think I'll think I'll be…" he trailed off with a twitch. Something was pulling him to the far corner of the room. Something was… He needed to find something. "...fine."

Donatello's eyes widened in astonishment as he looked the stinger over. "Mutations are generally anthropomorphic. I've never seen mutagen create giants like this before!"

"Yeah, real fascinating, Donnie." Raphael elbowed him, beak wrinkled and his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The pull intensified to the point it was almost painful, and Leonardo was compelled to follow it. He turned and wandered off to a seemingly inconspicuous pile of newspapers. Pulling them away revealed a large yellowish oval. An egg, he realized.

That egg was important.

He needed to protect that egg.

"Woah, look!" He said instead of keeping it to himself.

"It's some kind of... egg," Donatello said as he approached.

No duh, he snarked silently.

"Stand back. I'll handle this," Michelangelo said confidently, grabbing his nunchucks.

"I'm betting on the egg," Raphael huffed with a smirk.

A surge of protectiveness ran through Leonardo. It wasn't supposed to be there. The egg wasn't anything more than a danger. Still, he yelled, "Wait!" He didn't want to say the rest, he didn't want to say any of it, but it was like he was possessed. "We're not hurting it. We came here to find out what the Kraang are up to, and this egg is our only clue. We should take it back to the lab and let Donnie analyze it."

"Great idea!" Raphael snapped, "Let's take the mutant wasp egg into our home where we live! What's the worst that can happen?"

"It's not safe leaving us around. It'll be fine, I'll just keep an eye on it."

"I'll get it," Michelangelo interfered, reaching down.

No! He'll drop it! This will all be for naught. Well that voice was new.

"Hands off!" Leonardo shouted and pushed himself between the egg and Michelangelo, causing him to yelp and the rest to look over at him.

"Dude, are you alright?" Raphael asked, looking him over, "Because unmotivated bursts of anger are kind of my thing."

"It's just that the egg could be fragile," Leonardo reasoned as he picked up the egg, scrambling to not set off any alarms, "Mikey cannot be trusted with it. I'm carrying it myself."

"I'm beginning to think that he likes that egg more than me," Michelangelo whined, looking over at him longingly. As if he didn't spend as much time as he did with the youngest.

"Well, the egg talks less than you, so there's that," Raphael laughed.

Leonardo stared at the egg the whole way to the Shellraiser. What was going on? He didn't yell like that and he certainly didn't want this thing home. Why was he so protective over it?

%%%

Leonardo tapped his knee rapidly, shaking his head like it would fix something. He wanted to go somewhere else, do other things, get rid of this godforsaken egg, but something rooted him to the place. It hurt to move away, hurt to do anything other than watch over it.

It might be worth it, his mind supplied, This might prove fruitful.

His mind was probably right. Trusting his conscience usually worked out for him.

Find other hosts, it immediately tried to order, Others who will protect. Feed. Watch.

His head hurt, and he raised a hand to grab it, trying to alleviate the pain. The voice grew louder.

Attack, fight, protect! Protect spawn, next generation! Gather food, gather hosts!

No! No, he needed to stay right where he was. He wasn't going to fight when it wasn't necessary.

The egg needed protection.

It needed him.

It needed food.

Leonardo shook his head again. Maybe he would just… Sit for a bit. And try to get his thoughts together before he tore himself apart.

%%%

Michelangelo eventually came sauntering over, getting far too close for his liking. It set off multiple mental alarms, and Leonardo whirled to face him.

Get him away! Protect! PROTECT!

"Back away!" He screamed, and Michelangelo scrambled backwards. "Touch it and I'll kill you! Go!"

Leonardo froze. That wasn't him talking. He'd never say that to any of his family. What came over him? Why did he say that? He didn't mean it? Why couldn’t he move away?

Michelangelo ran.

%%%

Donatello came to him next.

"Leo?" He began, tentatively, as if he was afraid that Leonardo might lash out at him as well, "We're, um, we're worried about you-"

"Go. Now," Leonardo hissed at him.

Something was wrong. He needed to go before he hurt somebody or worse, killed them.

ATTACK! MORE HOSTS FOR THE SPAWN!

That dang voice again. It was still getting louder, sharpening the pain from his headache until it was like an ice pick stuck in his skull.

Donatello the hint and turned, speed walking back into his lab where Leonardo assumed they were all hiding out. Because he was scaring them.

The egg would not let him move away from it, however, that didn't mean he couldn't take it with him.

Leonardo wrapped his arms around the egg and stood, still careful with its fragile shell. He took it and ran far, far away.

He didn't really have a plan for where he was going, he was just running. Anywhere would work.

No! Whatever that voice was screamed, Go back! Turn them! Create food sources for the next generation!

Leonardo grit his teeth and stopped running. If he wanted to do anything, he needed to stop hearing that voice. Then, he would stop feeling that resistance on his limbs, and he could move a little more freely.

He slammed his head against the wall and screamed as loud as he could, drowning out the shouts about "hosts" and "spawn" and "food". He slammed his skull against the brick wall until blood trickled down his temple and slicked a part of the wall. At least the voice had quieted to something more manageable, even if his head hurt worse. If he could think for ten seconds, he could plan a way out of this mess he’d gotten himself into. All he needed was some kind of plan on how to get rid of the egg, then he’d be fine, right? The voice should go away, after all, it only started when he had the egg.

“LEO!”

Shoot, they were coming after him. Leonardo crumpled to the floor, curled up around the egg and leaned against the wall. If he left, it was only to protect them. Why would they go after him when he was dangerous?! As he silently cursed their names, he raised a hand to his head. The voice was back, louder than before now that his family was near.

TURN THEM! GATHER GUARDIANS FOR EGG!

Leonardo screamed again, this time out of the splitting agony in his head like it was getting cracked open.

Then, the pain was gone, and his body was moving without his command. Panic shot through him, followed by a surge of adrenaline. He wished it wouldn’t, but his body moved forward anyway, one sword drawn with intent to hurt or, god forbid it, kill.

He was sick to his stomach when the blood sprayed. Clawing at his own mind to try and free himself, Leonardo screamed silently as his body lunged forward and struck out at his brothers. Still, he could do nothing, and it drove him crazy.

Raphael got too close, and whatever was controlling him took a chance. Leonardo lunged forward and trapped the second oldest in combat by locking their weapons, just long enough to sink his teeth into his arm.

Yes! It has spread! More hosts for the next generation!

No! No, he had to- He had to keep trying to fight, or else he would hurt them badly.

Leonardo suddenly regained his control of his own body and scrambled backwards, dropping his katana. He needed to run before they went at him again, before they got hurt again.

So he did. He turned and ran as fast as he could. Only after he had achieved a distance that he thought was safe did he sit back down to try and gather his scrambled thoughts.

He bit Raphael.

He had spread that stupid voice to him as well.

Leonardo looked at the egg and set it down, then twisted to look at his remaining katana. Slowly, he drew the blade and shifted to sit on his knees.

He raised the sword high above his head, ready to bring it down upon that cursed egg. Just one strike, the membrane would split open, and the larva inside would die. Then he’d be free, and his family would be safe. It would only take one hit if he did it right.

No! Do not attack the spawn! It is almost time!

The katana fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and he went reeling backwards before curling up and whining. It hurt. It hurt to disobey. It hurt. Ithurtithurtithurtithurt-

The silence was shattered. The sound was quiet, near impossible to hear, but if he strained...

Click click click~

Leonardo glanced down at the sound, freezing when he saw an antenna dangerously close to the surface. They were already hatching? He thought he would have more time! It needed to die as soon as possible, but how?

An idea sparked in his mind. He knew what he had to do.

Grabbing the egg, he scrambled to his feet in search of a body of water deep enough to do what he needed to do.

A pool. He needed a pool. That would work perfectly for this. Against his plastron, the egg twitched and the larva inside pushed against the wall of the egg, yearning for freedom. He had to do it fast, because the offspring of the wasp would wait no longer.

He dropped to his knees and forced the egg under.

NO! THE OFFSPRING! PROTECT! PROTECT!!!

Leonardo screamed in agony, dropping far enough that his forehead almost touched the ground, his grip on the egg loosening just a bit.

A crack formed under his fingers, though, and he reset his hold on it as the offspring broke through. No, not one. There were two more behind it. It was only the first of three.

They, however, were not made for swimming, especially fresh out of their egg. Shortly after leaving their cocoon, the hatchlings drowned, sinking slowly in the water.

The screams in his head reached their peak before slowly fading after the wasp's children drowned. He scrambled backwards, reveling in the silence.

It was finally quiet. He was safe. His family was safe. The wasps were gone, (hopefully) to never be seen again.

Leonardo rested his face on his knees and let out a long breath.

He wanted a nap.