#also no it is physically impossible for me to draw Five and Donnie in the same drawing without them interacting

[chiliiscereal]

Rottmnt headcanon:

The boys with an S/o that’s terrible at basketball

Raphael:

-sweetest boi when he finds out you’re terrible at basketball

-surprised you hadn’t even mentioned it before

-“did you think I’d make fun of you? Raph doesn’t make fun of people for not knowin’ how to do somethin’!”

-offers to teach you one on one

-denied every time

-basketball isn’t something you felt you could learn!

-“please let me teach you!”

-“no.”

-“pleaaaaaaseeee?”

-“no.”

-after weeks of bugging and bugging he finally gets you to say yes

-Definitely invested in making sure you learn how to play right

-this guy will pull up YouTube videos and NBA clips just so you can become an expert on the game

-will take you to the basketball court at night

-brings water for the both of you to every practice

-is the type of guy to stand behind you and correct how you’re holding the ball before you try to take your shot

-does whatever it takes to make sure Leo isn’t there while you’re learning and progressing

-will even hide that he’s teaching you in the first place

-trust him, Leo can sniff out amateur basketball players

-“Leo’s just gonna rub his skills in your face! Trust me, you don’t want him to know.”

-loves how far you’ve come and will celebrate every little victory you make

-will go easy on you when you have your first 1 v 1

-he’s the biggest cheerleader whenever you score, even if it’s against him

-never once makes fun of you for tripping over your feet or for your lousy aiming

-after a few more games against him, you finally won

-sure it was by one point but that’s okay!

-this boy lifts you off your feet in a huge bear hug to celebrate your victory

-finally, you’re ready to be involved in a turtle family game

-Raph will make sure you’re on his team so he can pass you the ball and let you show off how good you’ve gotten

-feels a sense of pride whenever you get a basket

-especially when it’s YOU dancing in Leo’s face once the game has been won

Leonardo:

-oh boy you’re really in for it

-you knew from the start of your relationship that Leo was amazing at basketball

-you ALSO knew he was a huge gloater and loved teasing people

-you didn’t need to be Einstein to figure that out

-you didn’t want him to know that you were terrible at it!

-“wanna play with us? You can be on myyyyyy teaaaaaam~”

-“Sorry can’t play! I twisted my ankle earlier!”

-“hey we need another player!”

-“I just remembered I have to be at a birthday party in like, two minutes.”

“Donnie quit wanna take his place?”

-“I think Splinter needs help organizing his ‘do not touch’ shelf. You guys go ahead!”

-it never bothered Leo

-well... not at first

-you would stay and watch their games only to jet once he invited you onto the court!

-he began to pressure you to play

-that includes begging, dragging you to the court, and even picking you up and physically placing you there himself

-it was easier just to give in

-you decided you’d just play a game and get it over with

-maybe even just sticking to passing it to other people

-...until Leo picked up on it and started passing you the ball more often

-especially when you were close to hoop

-“you got this babe!”

-he realized moments after you took the shot that you very much did NOT

-the ball fell short of the hoop by about three feet

-oh you never heard the end of it from there

-at the next game you guys played, he made sure to be on the other team

-“ready to smoke y/n, Donnie?”

-“you mean ‘am I ready for you to bounce the ball off my face again?’

-“yeah!”

-“then no.”

-“that’s EXACTLY what I wanna hear!”

-Leo made sure you were involved in the game the whole time

-it didn’t help your pride when he assigned himself the position of guarding you

-lots and lots of showing off

-even jumping over you to slam dunk it

-you, Mikey, and Raph didn’t stand a chance

-you had enough when Leo won and started dancing

-“I’m just... I’m just gonna head home. It’s getting late anyway.”

-he ran after you right away

-“hey what’s wrong? You didn’t have fun?”

-“kind of hard to have fun when you’re constantly shoving how bad I am in my face!”

-“it’s just how I play the game!”

-“Leo, I love you, but when you act like that then I don’t enjoy playing the game.”

-trying to walk away from him after that proved an impossible task

-“look, I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean for you to feel that way! I just wanted you to see how good I was. That’s all.”

-turns out it’s very hard to stay mad at Leo

-especially when he’s got your hand in his and giant sad puppy eyes

-“alright, I forgive you.”

Donatello:

-initially thought you were just being humble when you said you were terrible

-you were probably just trying to make him feel better about himself

-you saw how he played!

-but...he was very very wrong

-he first found out how bad you really were when Leo invited you to play a game with them at the court that night

-you really were terrible

-he watched you shoot the ball only for it to go about five feet off course

-torn between feeling bad for you when Leo gloats and feeling happy that he’s not the only one that sucks at the game

-pulls you away from Leo before you can deck him in the face

-“hey hey hey there’s time to punch him later.”

-doesn’t bring up how much you suck at basketball

-he knows it’s not fun

-“oh I didn’t even notice! No, not even when you accidentally passed the ball to Leo. Nope.”

-instead, will try to draw the attention away from you

-everyone already knows he’s terrible at the game, and since they’re brothers, he’ll be an easier and more desirable target for teasing

-won’t even bother trying to aim when you’re around

-shouts “transfer it!” Even if he’s being guarded

-you know what he’s doing though

-“are you doing that on purpose?”

-“why would I do such a thing? I would never!”

-“you totally are!”

-“I’m offended you would suggest such a thing.”

-becomes a silent competition to see who can be the worst at basketball

-knowing Donnie, he’s not gonna go down without a fight

-but neither are you

-everyone feels bad for Mikey for always being stuck on a team with you two

-well, sucks to be him

-maybe Mikey should actually figure out how to play Rock Paper Scissors when you’re all deciding teams

-all that matters to your two though is that you’re both having fun being terrible together

Mikey:

-didn’t even realize you were bad at it to be honest

-sure, you missed the hoop by like a mile every game, but he never said anything about it!

-only realized your terrible when you actually bring it up

-“did you see the way Donnie practically tripped over his own two feet last night? It was INSANE, baby!”

-“I didn’t, I was kind of too busy tripping on my shoelaces.”

“Oh I didn’t see that. Are you okay?”

-“yeah I’m fine.”

-“how’d you trip over your shoelaces anyway? Weren’t they tied?”

-“they were... but I somehow found a way to trip over them. I’m terrible at the game, babe.”

“What? Psh, no way!”

-loves being on your team anyway

-it’s bonding!

-he’d never miss out on an opportunity to bond

-adores being on the opposite team and purposely dropping the ball for you to grab

-he’s just giving you an opportunity to get better!

-but, what he loves more, is working with you on the same team

-you’re both shorter than the rest of the turtle family, so naturally you both decided to create a technique

-he gets to crouch down, you jump on his back, and he launches you toward the hoop for you to slam dunk!

-it works most of the time

-key word: most

-the rest of the time in ends in a couple bruises and a lot of laughter

-this boy won’t let Leo even get a word out about you being terrible

-and Leo knows better

-he’s had too many run ins with doctor delicate touch in past experiences

-Mikeys always there to listen to you complaining about Leo as well

-even makes ‘after game snacks’ for the two of you while you rage about Leo’s dancing

-looks like Leo has another appointment booked with doctor delicate touch

#rottmnt mikey #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt oneshots #rottmnt leo #rottmnt imagine #rottmnt headcannons #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #wattpad #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt

[heyheydidjaknow]

Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. “It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

--

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

#tmnt donnie #donnie x reader #2012 donnie #donnie #donatello x reader #tmnt donatello #donatello #tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #teenage #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #hamato clan #donatello hamato #y/n #self insert #self insert fanfiction #tmnt x reader #reader insert

[spectrumscribe]

... how about season one Donnie meeting season 5 Donnie. While season 5 Donnie knows that messing with the timelines is a terrible idea. He's just lost so much. His brothers have drifted so far apart. His father's dead. So, hes left with the choice of ruining his timeline for a possible better one. (You can choose what he does and the consquences if your want to do this dabble)

Anon this took a long time to answer, but trust me I have been thinking about it frequently ever since you sent this ask.

Donatello appears in Donnie’s lab with a burst of light; theair pressure popping in his ear canals and the smell of something singedfilling his nose.

Donnie stares, unable to articulate what’s just happened.His other self stares back, panting and looking like he’s just been throughhell.

A long silver cloak obscures most of his body, only his headuncovered. Donnie’s mirror self holds a demented looking staff in his hands,the rod leading up to a giant red hand clutching an hour glass.

“-what’s the date?” His other self gasps out.

Donnie looks closer, and distantly realizes that no, thisturtle isn’t his mirror self. The other Donatello is taller, has lines to hisface Donnie knows he doesn’t have. He’s carrying an air of someone on the edge,and looking ready to shove anyone near him over it.

“What’s the date?”His other self demands sharply.

Donnie startles, and blurts out the information requested onreflex. The other Donatello sags against his bizarre staff, and looks sorelieved it probably hurts.

“Oh good,” He says, smiling in a broken way. “I was worriedI’d overshoot or something.”

And then he nearly falls onto the floor, and Donnie rushesto catch him.

–/–

It takes only a few moments for the other him to catch hisbreath. In those moments, Donnie sees what he can only assume is a collectionof hot-sharp desperate emotions be shoved under the surface. It looks painful;to cover up so much all in one go.

“Who are you?” Iswhat he asks soon as he’s able. Except with a lot more confusion and swearinginvolved.

“I’m you,” is theweary and partially humorous answer. The other Donatello smiles as he saysthat, drawing at stress lines that make him look older by decades. “Well, I’myou, except nearly five years older and a hell of a lot more traumatized. Ha.”

Donnie thinks he looks too old to be just twenty.

The explanation is curt, to the point. Donatello- as Donnieis calling him, because two Donnie’s is just confusing even inside his head- explainswho he is, where he’s come from, and how he’s gotten into Donnie’s lab in theearly hours of the night.

“The time sceptre,” Donatello says, holding up the creepystaff as he does. “I stole it from someone we used to think of as a friend. Thecloak, too.” He smiles, but it’s a bitter expression. A lot of things aboutDonatello seem bitter. “It’ll hide my presence from the time mistresses, longenough I can get everything I need to done.”

“Uh,” Donnie says. “that explains so very little of what thehell is going on. Time mistresses?”

“They’re from the seventy-ninth dimension,” Donatello says,which doesn’t clarify anything but doesconfirm the multiverse theory. Hooray? “There’s a whole collection of them, asociety, even, and while we used to be friends with an apprentice of theirs, Isort of. Well. Burned that bridge to the ground when I broke into theirheadquarters and stole one, the most powerful time scepter they have, and two,one of their stealth cloaks. So long as I wear it, they can’t track mymovements through time. Just the ripples I leave in it.”

Donnie puts his fingers to his temples, trying to catcheverything all at once and make sense of it. “Okay, time travel and alternatedimensions are confirmed scientifically possible, great. Why are you doing allthis?”

Donatello’s expression hardens and goes cold. “To preventthe future I came from.”

Oh god. It’s worse than Donnie imagined. This is everyhorrible sci-fi thriller ever and he’s livingit.

“…and what sort of future is that?” He’s so afraid to ask.

Donatello remains cold, but takes on a bone deep exhaustion.“Well… for starters, our father died.”

Donnie was right to be afraid, and his heart goes colderthan Donatello’s expression.

“No,” He whispers, air knocked out of him. “No, that’s impossible.”

“He’s just as mortal as any of us, I’m afraid,” Donatellosays. His hands tighten around the scepter. “Shredder kills him three yearsdown the road from here, but not before a lot of really, really bad stuffhappens because of him. Because of both of them. I’m here to stop it.”

Donnie’s head is spinning. His father dies.  Died.It’s not even something he can properly imagine; the rat that’s always beenuntouchable in a fight, even with all four of him and his siblings ganging upon him. He died and Donnie sent himself back in time to prevent that. But-

“How?” Donnie asks, even though a part of him is alreadyarriving at multiple answers, including-

“Simple,” Donatello says. “I’ll kill Shredder before he cankill anyone else.”

He takes out a folded piece of paper; crumpled blueprint seton the table next to them and smoothed out. Donnie only has to glance at it toknow what’s drawn on its surface.

“And, you’re going to help me.”

–/–

Donnie already has all the materials needed, scattered throughouthis lab and in the garage. He’s horrified, and confused, and yet not.

He always knew he had the potential to build scarier things,deadlier things. He just didn’t, because it seemed so… terrible. Even in theface of everything he’s been through the last few months, it wasn’t ever a linehe wanted to cross.

Now, he has motivation. Both in the tried and true one ofwanting to protect his family, and in the intimidating figure his older selfpresents.

Between the two of them, they have everything nearly set upalready, despite only beginning a few hours ago. Donnie is hesitant now andagain, but Donatello works with machinelike pace and precision. There are nomistakes or pauses as he works across the table from Donnie; only focus andunrelenting concentration.

Donnie darts glances at his other self, examining thedifferences between them more closely.

Donatello had laid out his reasoning and motivations todestroy his own future. Most of it had been to do with what effect theirfather’s death had had on their family, but also… what had happened betweenthem all afterwards, and even before that.

Maybe Raph was always a little more physical and short-fusedthan needed. Maybe Leo got on their cases a lot and sometimes was a littleharsher than he should be. Maybe Splinter had always been a little bitstandoffish towards Donnie and Mikey’s interests and skillsets. That didn’tmean they were abusive, right?

A lot can change in half a decade, it seemed.

The accusations Donatello had told Donnie sat heavy in hischest; painful to think on and slimy feeling to imagine.

Donatello had looked so tired when he told Donnie thosethings. Exhausted and regretful. It’s notentirely their fault, he’d said, weall got dealt bad hands and they dealt with it worse than any of us. I canstill save them from that. We both can.

Save Leo, Raph, and Splinter from themselves and the peoplethey could become. Save Mikey from becoming detached and brittle smiling, madesharp and weary by war and devolving home life. Save April from becomingsomeone who burned too bright and carried too much anger and pain to handle.Save Casey.

“Who’s that?” Donnie had asked.

Donatello had paused for a moment, and then smiled in a wrymanner.

“Someone who helped me get back here,” He’d said. Then, withwarmth, “and some idiot you’ll learn to trust with your life.”

Then he’d paused, and sagged a little around his shoulders.Tired, grieving.

“He didn’t make it through the portal with me.”

Donatello went quiet after that.

Donnie still sees those things in Donatello’s posture, evenas they work quickly to assemble what they need. There are scars and lines toDonatello’s body and face that add to the exhausted air; making him look somuch older than twenty.

Donnie is quietly scared of those things. The age and thewear and the blank resignation, of what Donatello’s told him, and of theexplosives they have piled all around them.

He wants to go find his brothers. His father. He wants tograb them all and look them in the eye, and begthem to chase away any doubts he has about them, or their family, or theirlove. He wants to be a kid who can run to his family and have them explain awayeverything that’s horrible in the world. He wants them all to promise theywouldn’t ever become those people, and that he wouldn’t become Donatello.

But, Donatello is short of time. He’d said that even withthe cloak he still wears, eventually the time mistresses he stole from willfind him. The sceptre is too powerful to hide for long, and…

Donnie agrees, despite how everything is spiraling out ofhis control and feeling exactly like a black hole. He agrees that for theirfamily…

Well, he’s willing to do anything for them. Anything to keepthem whole, healthy, and happy. Even kill for them.

–/–

Donnie’s pulse races as they scale the building; terrifiedthat someone will somehow see them, despite all the precautions they’ve taken,and terrified because he has bombs onhis shell.

He’s designed plans for bombs over the years. Thought aboutchemicals and devices that could create the biggest boom. He’s never actually considered bringing those thoughts intoreality. Too dangerous, too extreme.

His other self still doesn’t seem to have any reluctance forthose sorts of things; carrying his half of the bombs without hesitance as theyclimb.

Donnie pulls out the first bomb he’s supposed to place, ashe reaches a nook of the church’s outside. The thing isn’t much bigger than hishand, but it weighs.

It feels like a precipice he’s about to topple from.

Donnie bites his lip, and reminds himself this is for thesake of his family. Even if it feels… wrong.

He places the bomb, locking it to the stone and activatingit. The little green light comes to life, and Donnie has to swallow bile as hehas to keep going.

How has no one caught them yet? How have they totallyescaped the notice of one of the most powerful crime lords in the world?Donnie’s hindbrain insists that their luck can’t hold, that even though hisother self said he knew the patrol patterns perfectly, they’re going to becaught and then everyone will die-

A shape falls past Donnie and his heart jumps out of hischest.

He whips his head to follow the shape, ready to detach his handfrom the metal grips around his palms and grab the first kunai he can-

-and he sees the black clad form of a guardsmen, metal mesheyes staring upwards, just before he hits the ground with a cracking thud.

Donnie stares, uncomprehendingly, at the corpse below him.

It’s in the shadows of the alley, and looks just like therest of the trash bags scattered along the ground. It looks like just anotherlump in the dark. Something no one would ever glance twice at.

He feels like throwing up.

Donnie slowly looks upwards, breath difficult to find.

His other self meets his eyes, blank and undisturbed. Andthen turns away as he disappears onto the roof.

Donatello had said they wouldn’t meet any guards. Thatthey’d get all the bombs in place without even having to worry about them. Allof Donnie’s observations of the church had said that was impossible, but he’daccepted the insistences anyways. Because he didn’t want to think of the truth.

Donatello lied to him. It somehow doesn’t feel like asurprise.

An aged mirror of his face reappears above him.

“Hurry up,”Donatello whispers over the ledge of the church. “I don’t have much time left.”

So he keeps saying, at least.

Donnie feels the weight of the bombs on his shell, slungcarefully inside a large duffle bag like they are. The sound of the thud playsover and over in his head.

He reminds himself that this is for his family, theirfuture, and that everyone inside this building is going to be dead very soonanyways. What’s one death sooner than that?

Donnie feels detached from himself as he keeps climbing. Hevaguely wonders if he’ll ever sleep again, after tonight.

–/–

“Are you sure?” Donnie asks one last time, staring at thebuilding they’ve wired to blow.

“I spent half a year examining every single day of ourlives, dating from April’s appearance to- to our father’s death,” His otherself says, bent double over the thicker, sturdier laptop from the Shellraiser.He’s letting Donnie look at it, but clearly needs no assistance as he hacks thecameras inside the church a second time. “I’ve crunched numbers andpossibilities and alternate options into oblivion, trust me,” Donatello looksstone-faced determined, so much so it’s making Donnie uncomfortable. “There isno other way. I’m sorry.”

He’s been saying that all night. Donnie’s starting to feellike it means more than just ‘sorry’.

Donatello’s typing slows, and he stops completely. Staringat the screen with intensity.

Donnie sees what he’s staring at, and swallows.

The Shredder.

Sat on his throne, discussing something the video feed won’tpick up. Foot soldiers stationed along the walls of the room, no sign of hissecond in commands or of Karai. Donatello said she was out at the moment, thatshe wouldn’t make it back in time.

Donnie, feeling dizzy, wonders why they weren’t killing heras well.

He turns his eyes back to the tips of the church. Two blocksaway, they have a perfect view of the top roof of the building. All the sharptowers, the piercing arches aimed at the sky.

Donnie is about to watch it all be destroyed, and have theknowledge he helped orchestrate it.

He can’t feel his legs. Reality feels like it’s sliding.

For his family. It was all for his family. He needed toremember that.

“Text Leo,” Donatello says, clipped and low. Donnie doesn’tlook at him. “Tell him to tell Karai… she should get back to her base soon, orshe’ll miss the show.”

Donnie stutters internally. “What? Why would- he’s with her? Right now?”

“Yes,” Donatello says; no hint of a lie. “Where did youthink he disappeared all the time?”

Donnie reels, implications about his brother gettingfriendly with one of the deadliest threats in their lives making his head spin.“Oh my god- he’s been- and he didn’t tellus?”

Donatello scoffs, the sound almost a bitter laugh. “Thisisn’t even the worst stupid stunt he pulls. Just text him, they’ll get heresoon enough.”

“Why? Why do weeven want her to see this?” It seems… overkill, making her watch her own fatherdie, as terrible as the both of them are.

“She doesn’t need to see it,” Donatello says. “I just needto tell her something before we go. Better she comes now than me having to huntfor her later. It’ll save time.”

Donnie doesn’t want to know. He does not want to know whathis other self wants to tell Karai; not with the dull, bitter tone to hiswords.

He texts Leo anyways. He puts away his phone before hestarts getting replies back.

“Ready?” Donatello asks, holding a finger over the key thatwill activate the countdown sequence.

Donnie wants to scream no.

“Yes,” He says, and it comes out strangled. “As I’ll everbe.”

Donatello nods, and turns back to the screen perched on hiscrossed legs. He presses the key, starting the thirty second countdown.

Donnie tears his eyes from the changing numbers, to glanceat Donatello’s expression.

He doesn’t look like he’s feeling anything at all.

“I’m sorry,” Donatello says suddenly, the flashing screenlighting his face strangely. “You shouldn’t have had to see this. Do any ofthis.”

Twenty-five seconds.

“Then why are you making me?” Donnie asks, because he hasto. “You could’ve done this on your own. I know you could have.”

Twenty seconds.

“Because,” Donatello says. He doesn’t take his eyes off thefigure of Shredder or the countdown. “you have to learn, whether you or I wantyou to.”

Fifteen seconds.

“Learn what?”

“How to do what needs doing, so we don’t lose anyone everagain.”

Ten seconds.

Donnie can’t find anything to say to that.

Donatello doesn’t look at him. Only staring at the Shredder,with cold hate slowly creeping into his expression.

Five seconds.

Donnie looks away, but he counts the seconds anyways.

Four.

Three.

Two.

Donnie shuts his eyes.

The explosion goes off, shuddering through the air.

(Continued on AO3, since it’s going to get a fair bit longer.)

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #Donatello #and.... donatello? #donatello x2 #Request Night #My writing #go read the rest i'm p proud of it so far #lmao this is the war-weary donnie i was talking about the other day #bc i loved writing this #and i'll keep loving it as i go along #i'd say in the AO3 one i'm.... 40% done? #just some more hard emotional things #and then i wrap things up with a bittersweet ending #Time Traveling Donatello AU #<tag name right there for this AU

[thatcrazyfanfictionwriter]

Secret of the Sewers: Hisako’s Wrath

Raphael threw himself against the Plexiglas door of his cell, trying with all his might to try and bust through it. He punched it, kicked it, and threw his entire body weight against it, but his efforts did absolutely nothing. Still, that did not deter his attempts, despite the growing bruises on his arms and knuckles that appeared as he did so.

“Raph, stop!” Leo shouted. “All your doing it hurting yourself. Just stop!”

Raph stopped for a moment, leaning against the glass as he tried to catch his breath. Through the transparent door of his personal prison, the red turtle could see his brothers and his sensei, their cells arranged in a circular pattern. They had all been stripped of their weapons, their clothes, and even their masks, given only bluish-gray hospital garbs identical to the ones Hisako had been wearing when they found her oh so long ago. The five of them were also sporting metallic collars around their necks, and when Raph had tried to pull at it, he’d nearly electrocuted himself in the process.

Feeling he’d rested enough, Raph got back to his feet and resumed his futile escape attempt. Throwing himself against the door once more, he tried desperately to escape, memories of the way his sister had been in the beginning fueling his resolve.

“Raph enough!” Leo pleaded, pressing himself against the Plexiglas of his own cell. “Please, enough!”

“Raphael.” Splinter called out, his voice laced with worry. “Your body cannot take much more. Please my son, for your own sake.”

Raph paused after another attempt at the door, leaning against the glass as he breathed heavily.

“I can’t, sensei.” He informed him, gritting his teeth through the pain of the various bruises across his arms. “Hisako’s in here somewhere, waiting for us to save her. I’m not gonna let her down.”

“Raph, I’ve done the calculations.” Donny informed him from where he was sitting in his cell. “These doors are made out of a military grade, bullet-proof Plexiglas. The cells are lined with the same metal used in armored tanks. It is physically impossible to break through, no matter how many times you try.”

Raph let out a loud growl, punching the glass as tears of frustration began to pour down his face. He slid down to his knees, his forehead against the glass as unbidden tears began to fall. Mikey watched his brother, surprised to see those tears fall. The orange turtle curled up into a ball, hugging his legs and wishing he had the ability to just curl up in his shell.

“What’s he gonna do to us?” he whimpered, his overactive imagination already providing him with horrifying scenarios that terrified the orange turtle.

“I don’t know Mikey, but we can’t just give up.” Leo told him.

“Leo…” Donny began. “We have no weapons, no back-up, and these collars can electrocute us if we so much as sneeze in a way Stockman doesn’t like.”

“Or if the sadistic whack bag decides he wants to watch us squirm.” Raph added bitterly.

“I’m sorry Leo, but we’ve lost.” Donny informed his brother, his eyes downcast.

Leo looked around at his brothers, then at his sensei. As a child, Leo always knew he could count on his father to have the answer to any problem that they faced. Now he turned to his father once more, desperate for a way to save his family.

“Sensei…” he called out, his voice quiet from the growing sense of hopelessness. “Is there any way for us to get out of here.”

Splinter glanced at his son, his eyes drifting to the rest of his children, who were now turning to him.

"I am afraid one has yet to present itself to us." Splinter replied. “But do not lose hope. We must not allow ourselves to fall into despair, or we will only leave ourselves open to the manipulations of that madman."

“Your little group seems to favor addressing me as mad.” Stockman’s voice remarked from the entrance to the cell block.

All five mutants turned towards the door as Stockman sauntered into the room, his entire form practically brimming with a malicious pride.

"I see you all are getting acquainted with your new living quarters." he said with a cruel undertone to his voice. "What do you think?"

"Certainly ain't the Ritz if that's what you're asking." Raph snarled.

"You don't like it?" Stockman asked. "I even gave you five your own cell block. Keep the family together as it were."

"Well, maybe we can toss around some interior decorations," Raph quipped sarcastically. "Like maybe… oh, I don't know, your head on a spit!"

Stockman reached into his pocket, pulling out a small remote with a set of four buttons. He pressed down the red one and Raph's collar began to spark. The red turtle howled in pain, falling to his knees.

"You'll learn that a sense of humor does not last long in here." Stockman said as he glared down at the turtle.

"Enough!" Splinter shouted, rising from where he had been kneeling.

Stockman turned, releasing the button and allowing Raph to sag to the ground. He then sauntered over to Splinter who rose to meet him.

"I believe your name is Splinter, yes?" He asked. "Your 'sons' called you that, along with Sensei, the Japanese word for teacher."

"Is this petty knowledge supposed to impress me?" Splinter asked, his voice even despite the seething rage in his eyes.

"Oh, no." Stockman replied. "I imagine you are not one who is easily impressed. I, on the other hand, find myself greatly impressed by you and your sons. You are the first mutants I have ever encountered that were not engineered in my lab. Tell me, where did you come from?"

"You hold my daughter captive, you torment my sons, you hold us all against our will, and yet you expect me to disclose secrets of our past to you? You truly are a madman."

Stockman let out a phony sigh.

"Suit yourself."

He pressed down on the blue button on the remote. Leo lurched backwards, grabbing at the collar in an attempt to try and alleviate the pain.

"Leo!" the other three turtles screamed.

Splinter pressed himself against the glass of his cell, watching in horror as Leo fell to the ground, still struggling to resist the currents going through him.

“My son!” he cried out.

"What kind of father allows his children to suffer like that?" Stockman taunted.

Splinter glared at Stockman before closing his eyes and relenting.

"Very well..." he seethed.

"Excellent." Stockman replied, releasing the button.

Leo gasped for breath as he laid on the floor of his cell, sweat pouring from him as he did. Splinter looked at his son, then glared at Stockman.

"I'm waiting." Stockman told him, dangling the remote in his fingers.

"We were not created in a lab." Splinter explained with great reluctance. "It was an accident that turned us into what we are. An accident caused by your company."

Stockman blinked, then stroked his chin in thought. Then, he remembered an accident almost 18 years ago.

"Wait a moment." he whispered. "There was this shipment of mutagen that was hijacked about that long ago… There were reports of property damage and lives lost… Is that the accident you speak of?”

Splinter's silence was all the answer the doctor needed.

"Ha!" Stockman laughed. "I knew there would be side effects of a mutagenic spill like that, but never could I have imagined this! Five perfect mutant specimens without a single trace of any mental abnormalities!"

"Is it just me, or does Stockman sound like us on Christmas?" Mikey whispered to Donny.

"The way he's looking at us, it's like he's sizing us up." Donny whispered back. "I don't like it."

"Now there are a few questions I need answers to." Stockman said, drawing Donny and Mikey's attention once more. "I glanced at the report, and it said that a family of three lived there. They never recovered the remains of the father, so I’m assuming that was you."

"Yes." Splinter replied, the pain of the day he mutated returning in full force.

"Well then, what does that make your sons?" Stockman asked. "The report said that you never had any children outside of your daughter. Were these four your pets or something like that?"

Both Donny and Mikey winced, Leo and Raph also giving a small shiver despite the intense pain they were in. These gestures did not go unnoticed by Stockman. He began laughing so hard that he had to lean against the wall to stabilize himself.

"They were, weren't they?!" he cackled. "This is priceless! You were so desperate for a family that you took mutated house pets on as your sons! How pathetic!"

Splinter couldn't hold back his rage any longer. He banged his paws against the glass, glaring at Stockman.

"Unlock this door and I will show you just how 'pathetic' I truly am!" he snarled.

Stockman just continued laughing, his loud fit slowly dialing down to a small bout of giggles.

"I believe you." Stockman replied, still snickering. "I believe you would do just about anything for your so-called family-"

Stockman paused, and Splinter could practically hear the gears turning in the mad doctor's head.

"What?" Splinter demanded.

"It's possible..." Stockman muttered to himself. "It just might work..."

"What might work?!" Splinter demanded again.

Stockman just smiled, placing his hand on the glass of Splinter's cell.

"I do believe you have given me the answer to my Oracle problem."

Stockman turned to the door leading into the cell block, opening it as a group of about 8 to 10 guards.

"Gather up the turtles and bring them to the S-Wing." he ordered. "I think it's time for a family reunion."

Leo sat up, a sinking feeling in his gut of what this 'family reunion' would entail. The other three did the same, coming to similar conclusions. They were pulled out of their cells one by one, their hands chained behind them so they wouldn't be able to escape. Splinter began pounding on the glass in desperation.

"Release them!" he shouted. "Don't you dare lay a finger on my-"

Before he could finish, Stockman pressed the small black button on the remote. Splinter's collar activated, sending the rat into a fit of convulsions.

"Sensei!" Mikey screamed.

“Stop it you sadistic-” Leo shouted.

"Quiet, lest you wish to suffer the same fate." Stockman threatened.

Both Leo and Mikey clammed up, but Raph just struggled against the men trying to drag him away.

"You're the one who's gonna suffer when I get my hands on you!"

The door to the cell block closed, effectively silencing Raph's threats.

"I think not."

…

Hisako looked around, wishing she still wasn't so weak after trying to maintain that coma for so long. She could barely make out her own thoughts, much less read another's. This made it impossible for her to tell exactly where everyone was, and why she'd been inexplicably left alone after she'd awoken.

What are you planning, Stockman? And where are my brothers? I know I felt them. I know they're here.

The door to her cell opened, pulling Hisako from her thoughts. She looked to see Stockman sauntering in, that cruel, arrogant grin plastered on his face. Hisako’s heartrate sped at the sight of him, which only seemed to make the man’s grin broaden.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Oracle." he told her. "I was starting to get worried."

Hisako’s fists clenched as she glared at Stockman. Though she was still visibly terrified, she was determined to try and be brave. Stockman noticed her efforts and chuckled.

"Ooh, feisty." Stockman taunted. "What's got you fired up?"

Hisako didn’t dare utter a word. She knew that if she did, she would clue him in to whatever her brothers had planned, and there was no way in hell she was going to let that happen. For the first time in however long she’d been locked in the god forsaken place, rescue was on the horizon.

“The silent treatment I see.” Stockman remarked, a smug smirk on his face. “Well, if you’re not going to tell me, perhaps I should try and guess.”

He began walking around Hisako’s table, his hand on his chin as he pretended to ponder on her behavior. Hisako kept her eyes locked on him, afraid to let him out of her sight for even a second.

“Ah.” He let out, giving a snap of his fingers. “Perhaps your newfound confidence stems from my latest acquisitions.”

The door to the cell hissed open again, and a set of familiar voices shouting in anger caused her heart to plummet. Tearing her gaze away from Stockman, she watched in horror as guards dragged the turtles into the room, forcing them into a row, and onto their knees. Hisako saw their hospital garbs and their collars, and it was as if her entire world came crashing down around her.

"I’m assuming my hunch was correct, judging from your expression.” Stockman jabbed.

Hisako met eyes with her brothers as Mikey attempted to smile at her.

"Hey sis." he called.

“No…” She let out, tears of abject terror and horror rolling down her face. “Please no…”

“Hisako I am so sorry.” Leo apologized, attempting to rise before being forced back to his knees. “We tried to save you…”

“And if you have any hopes of anyone else coming to your rescue, you should know that these four creatures aren’t the only ones we caught sneaking into this facility.” Stockman commented.

Hisako’s head snapped back to Stockman, her eyes brimming with disbelief. Stockman relished the picture, adjusting his glasses as he glared down at them.

“The rat was quite an interesting catch, a human mutated into a rat.” Stockman commented. “I never could gather the necessary subjects for human testing, there was always someone who would look for them, even the homeless. It will be quite enjoyable to see all of the physical and genetic differences a human trial brings.”

“Splinter…” Hisako choked.

Raph struggled harder at the thought of Stockman experimenting on his father.

“You ain’t gonna lay one finger on him ya-”

Stockman held up the remote and Raph clammed up. Hisako’s fists clenched tighter, her knuckles turning white and blood seeping through her palm from where her nails broke skin. The heartrate monitor and brainwave monitors still attached to her began to beep more frantically with every passing second.

“Once I figure that out, I’ll see what effect the mutagen has on my two new human subjects.” Stockman continued, keeping that remote in his hand. “Sure it may take some time to ensure Miss O’Neil and Mr. Jones disappear, but it will be worth it to discover what else the mutagen has to offer.”

“April… Casey…?” Hisako croaked.

“We needed their help sis.” Donny told her, looking down. “It was the only way we could get in.”

“Oh yes, and I can’t forget about Project Leatherhead.” Stockman listed off, completely ignoring the idle comments between Hisako and the turtles. “I do thank you for bringing him back. He truly is one of a kind… unlike you four.”

Hisako’s heart lurched at the way Stockman worded those last three words, and she wasn’t the only one. The four turtles all had their eyes locked on the mad doctor. Stockman looked over at the array of tools still laying on a tray beside Hisako's table. He surveyed them each individually before settling on what looked like a small knife with a serrated edge. Hisako didn't need to read his mind to know what he had planned.

"Stockman, no!" Hisako screamed.

Once more, Stockman ignored her. He simply turned to the turtles and pointed at them.

"Eeny, meeny, miney, mo." he muttered, pointing at the turtles with each word. "Catch a turtle by the toe."

"Stop it!" Hisako shouted, her cries followed by an increasing beat from the brainwave monitor.

"If it hollers, let it go. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo."

His finger paused on Mikey. The orange turtle squeaked as Stockman grabbed him by the hair forcing his neck back as he placed the knife right up against the bare skin.

"Mikey!" Raph screamed, redoubling his efforts to free himself.

"Let him go!" Donny demanded, also trying to free himself.

“One of the benefits of having four identical specimens is I can afford to lose one or two.” Stockman proclaimed, running the blade up and down Mikey’s throat at the orange turtles remained as still as possible.

“Please, stop this!” Hisako begged, tears flowing freely as the brainwave monitor became erratic.

“It’s time that I remind you of who is in charge here.” He sneered. “And perhaps with the demise of one of these mutated reprobates, it will finally penetrate that abnormally thick skull of yours.”

The lights began to flicker, drawing the turtles, and the guards' attention. The brainwave monitor was beginning to spark, and a strange halo of green energy was beginning to form around Hisako.

“Say goodbye, Oracle.” Stockman said before slicing.

The knife barely made it a quarter of the way across Mikey's throat before everything exploded. The lights blew out, the brainwave monitor shorted out and caught fire, and all of the straps holding Hisako in her table utterly disintegrated. A wave of green energy suddenly pulsed through the facility, throwing Stockman away from Mikey and the guards off of the turtles. The chains binding their arms were reduced to ash and the collars on their necks shorted out, unlocking and falling in their lap. Immediately, Donny ran to Mikey.

"You okay?" he asked, checking Mikey's neck for any wounds.

"I think so." Mikey muttered, clutching the small cut. “Is it bad?”

“He didn’t hit any arteries, so you’re luck there.” Donny informed him.

While Donny took care of Mikey, both Raph and Leo were staring at Hisako.

"Guys." Leo whispered. "Look."

The turtles all looked to see Hisako rising off of her table, and not in the normal way. She was floating inches above the ground, that halo of green energy surrounding her. The electrodes attached to her head went flying off of her as her long hair began to regrow at a rapid pace. Her eyes were closed, but when she opened them, they were solid green.

"Hisako?" Raph whispered.

Hisako didn't seem to register her brother. Instead, her gaze locked on Stockman, who was currently trying to get back up.

"Stockman." she said, her voice sounding like it was a multitude of people talking at the same time.

Stockman got to his feet, only to come face to face with a pissed of Hisako. Before he could utter a word, she waved her hand, sending him flying into an adjacent wall.

"You sadistic-"

She swiped her arm in the opposite direction.

"-Maniacal-"

She sent her hand up.

"-Barbaric-"

She then brought her hand down.

"-Bastard!"

With every direction she sent her hand, Stockman and various other objects and debris went flying that direction. By the time she had him floating before her, he looked like he'd been in a grudge match with the entire WWE. He let out a pained cough as she glared at him.

“What are you going to do…?” He asked her, his voice wet and wheezy from the severe mental beating he’s received. “Kill me?”

Hisako shook her head.

“No. That would be the easy way out.”

Hisako then brought up her free hand, plunging her fingers into the man’s skull. It was as if she was phasing right through him, though Stockman’s screams of pain and agony made it clear that this was not the case. The brothers all watch is a mixture of curiosity, fear, and worry as Hisako began to draw something out of the scientist’s skull.

It looked like a mass of green light, congealed into some sort of weightless blob. As she pulled it out of Stockman’s head, his eyes rolled back in his skull before he sagged In Hisako’s mental grip. She let him fall, the halo of energy releasing him and the various bits of debris. She herself soon touched down, though her body maintained the ethereal glow.

“H-Hisako?” Raph called out hesitantly.

“It’s still me Raph.”

Raph sighed in relief as Donny glanced at the mass still clutched in her hands.

“Sis… what is that?” he asked.

“His memories… All of them.”

With that, she closed her fist around the mass, crushing it into tiny dots of green light. These lights fluttered to the ground before disappearing all together.

“Now, he will never remember…”

As she said this, the green halo around Hisako slowly vanished, taking with it the strange wind. Hisako's eyes returned to normal as she stumbled back, her strength leaving her, as well as consciousness. Leo quickly caught her before she hit the ground, picking her up and cradling her just like he had all those years ago.

"I got you sis." he told her unconscious form.

That's when a rumbling shook the lab. Everyone struggled to keep their balance as the tremor brought down some small debris.

“Uh, what was that?” Raph questioned.

"That telekinetic pulse must have compromised the structural integrity of the lab." Donny surmised.

"English, brainiac!" Raph shouted.

"This place is gonna crumble down on top of us!" Donny shouted. "We need to get everyone else and get out of here!"

"Good idea!" Leo agreed. "Donny, you find April and Casey. Get them to safety."

Donny disappeared in an instant as Leo continued dishing out orders.

"Mikey, you go find Master Splinter. He should still be in that cell block we were in."

"On it, bro!" Mikey declared before running off as well.

Mikey vanished as Leo turned to Raph.

"Raph, you go get Leatherhead." he ordered.

Raph bent down, picking up the knife that Stockman had planned to use on Mikey.

"Sure thing." he replied before grabbing Stockman by his coat. "Right after I deal with this piece of sewer scum!"

"Raph, wait!" Leo shouted.

"Are you seriously defending him?!" Raph demanded. "After everything he's done, after what he was going to do to Mikey?!"

“Hisako chose to spare his life.” He argued. “Like she said, death was the easy way out.”

“Well I’m making a different choice!” Raph snapped.

“And in doing so, you’d be dishonoring Hisako.”

Raph froze, the knife inches from Stockman’s throat.

"He was her enemy, and she made her choice." Leo explained. "Honor it."

Raph hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly dropped the knife.

"Alright." he said as he dropped Stockman, stomping on the man’s stomach. "But only for her."

"Fine by me." Leo agreed as he adjusted his grip on Hisako, "Now let's move!"

…

April and Casey stood in their cells, trying to figure out the source of the strange tremors that had begun to shake the lab. The guards and doctors who had been watching them and examining them had long since fled, probably evacuating.

"Casey, what's going on?" April asked fearfully.

"I don't know.” Casey admitted. “I've only got one good eye right now, and this cell doesn't exactly have the best view."

That's when a guard suddenly came sliding across the ground, coming to a stop in between April and Casey's cells. This guard was soon joined by another, and that's when Donny came in, brandishing what looked like a busted water pipe as a weapon.

"Donny?" Casey gasped.

"Donny!" April shouted.

"Hey guys!" Donny called as he grabbed a keycard off of the guards. "I'm getting you out of here!"

As he unlocked the cells, Casey grabbed a key from a nearby desk, getting the collar off his neck before getting to work on April's.

"Donny, what happened?" April asked. "What was that blast?"

"Long story short, Hisako." Donny replied.

April's collar went clattering to the ground as Casey met Donny's eye.

"Wait, Greeny is the one behind this place crumbling like a house of cards?" he asked.

"Believe me, we're all surprised." Donny told him. "But that's a topic for when we're not about to get crushed."

He grabbed April's hand as April grabbed Casey's. Together, they began running for their lives.

…

Mikey was able to remember the way he'd been taken with relative ease. The continuous rumbling of the shaking lab only helped to spur him into motion. He was running so fast that he nearly missed the pitiful mewling sound coming from one of the now opened labs. Heading back, Mikey spotted a tiny orange cat in a cage, shivering in fright.

"Aww, look at you." Mikey whispered, slowly approaching the cage. "You're so cute."

The cat looked up at Mikey, desperation in his little eyes. Mikey pulled the cage open, gently ushering the cat out.

"Come on little guy, it's not safe here anymore."

The cat leaped into Mikey's arms, the orange turtle gently petting it to calm it down.

"Don't worry, little guy." Mikey promised as he perched the cat on his shoulder. "I'll get you out of here and give you a real home."

As Mikey took off down the hallway once more, the cat began to nuzzle his face. Mikey giggled at the feeling.

"I've always wanted a pet." he said. "I think I'll call you… Klunk."

…

Splinter meditated in his cell, trying to realign his spirit so he could figure out a way to escape. In the midst of his mantra, he heard the doors to the cellblock open. He intended to ignore whomever it was that was coming to disturb him, until he heard the familiar voice of his son.

"Sensei!" Mikey called. "Snap out of it!"

Splinter's eyes flew open as he saw Mikey outside his cell, currently unlocking the door with a guard's keycard.

"Michelangelo!" Splinter shouted, grabbing his son in a hug. "Where are your brothers? Where is-"

"We've got Hisako, Master Splinter!" Mikey exclaimed as he used a physical key to get the collar off Splinter's neck. "You should have seen her! She went total Dark Phoenix on Stockman and freed us all! Well, she also did set the building to come down on top of us, but at least now she's okay."

"If she is safe, then that is all I need to know for now." Splinter assured the orange turtle. "Now, let us regroup with the others."

…

Leatherhead threw himself against the thick metal door of his cell, but his best efforts didn't make a dent. Even with the reinforced steel that TCRI had used to construct his cell, the croc could feel the lab beginning to crumble. While he may stand a chance of surviving the building's collapse, his friends did not.

"Release me!" He demanded, trying to claw through the door. "Now!"

Through the small slot that served as his only connection to the rest of the lab, Leatherhead could make out doctors and guards alike attempting to evacuate, going as far as to trample one another in desperation to escape.

"Sorry, freak!" one of the final doctors called out as they ran. "Looks like you're gonna be a new croc-skinned rug!"

As this final doctor rounded the corner, a green arm came out and grabbed them, yanking them from Leatherhead's view. There was the sound of a scuffle, then the doctor landed on his back, halfway hidden by the wall. That's when Raph rounded the corner, searching the doctor for his key card.

"Now that wasn't a very nice thing to say, now was it doc?" The red turtle quipped.

"Raphael!" Leatherhead shouted.

"Good to see you too, big guy." Raph replied as he opened Leatherhead's cell. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

"Where is Oracle?" Leatherhead asked as he pulled the collar off of his neck. "Is she safe?"

"Yeah, she's fine." Raph replied. "Apparently she can do more than mess with people's heads."

"What do you mean?" Leatherhead questioned.

"She's the one responsible for this building about to fall down on us."

"She is?"

"Yeah. Stockman made a horrible mistake of threatening Mikey and Hisako made him see the error of his ways. From what I've gathered, she destroyed his mind. He can't remember his own name anymore."

Leatherhead smiled, more than a little happy to know that the man who had ruined his life was now but a mere shell of himself.

"Good."

…

Leo ran down the hallway with Hisako in his arms. He knew he needed to get her to safety, but unfortunately, that was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated. With everything crumbling around him, the map he had mentally drawn up while being led through was proving inefficient.

“Damnit, where’s the exit?”

As he ran, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a door with B. Stockman on the nameplate. It seemed to be plain office door, so Leo kicked it down. In the spacious office, Leo's eyes locked on the weapons on display in a glass case.

"Our stuff!" Leo exclaimed with a grin.

Leo gently put Hisako down in the large office chair as he tore the desk drawers out of the desk. It took a few tries, but he soon found the keys to the case, as well as their shell cells and Donny's remote to the Shellraiser. He snagged it all, depositing the phones and remote into Hisako's lap as he raided the cabinet.

"Gonna need a way carry all this stuff, and you." Leo said as he filled his arms with the weapons.

Leo looked to see a discarded lab coat hanging on a coat rack by the door. The blue turtle quickly filled the various pockets with the smaller weapons, shell cells, and the remote. He then slid the coat on Hisako, pulling her back onto his shell and using his swords and Donny's staff as extra support.

"Alright sis." He told her as he made sure she was secure. "Now let's get out of here."

…

Donny got to the elevator shaft first, holding Casey and April close to shield them from the falling debris.

"Where is everyone?" April questioned.

"They'll be here April." Casey replied. "Just hang on."

Proving him right, Raph came barreling towards the elevator, Leatherhead hot on his tail.

"See, told you." Casey said with a smile.

Mikey and Splinter rounded a corner, and when the rat saw his other sons, he grabbed them in an embrace.

"My sons, you are safe." He said with no small amount of relief.

That's when April noticed Klunk on Mikey's shoulder.

"Is that a cat?" she asked.

Mikey gently scratched Klunk behind the ear.

"I named him Klunk." Mikey replied. "Isn't he cute?"

Before April could reply, Splinter looked around a bit worried.

"Where is Leonardo and Hisako?" he asked.

That's when Leo appeared.

"Sorry we're late." he greeted. "Couldn’t find the exit, but I did find some stuff we wouldn’t want to leave behind."

Splinter pulled Hisako off Leo's back, holding her close as tears rolled down his snout. Leo took the opportunity to redistribute their weapons.

"Oh yeah!" Raph cheered. "I was missing these!"

"Got more than those." Leo replied. "Stockman had our shell cells, and this."

He tossed Donny the Shellraiser remote, which the purple turtle caught before tucking into the side of his pants.

"Good thing he did." he remarked, pointing down the elevator shaft. "Take a look."

Everybody peered down the empty shaft, where they could see the remains of the elevator crashed into Fishface's old tank.

"Uh oh." Casey muttered as he pointed to the wreckage below. "I don't think we're going to be able to get out this way."

"The scientists from down here must have released the car to make sure we couldn't get out." Donny surmised.

"And the path I made… It is gone.” Leatherhead added, gesturing towards the hole he created, which is now blocked by a piece of falling debris.

"Then how are we going to get out of here?" April asked.

Leo gently took Hisako back from Master Splinter, sliding the coat off of her. He propped her on his back before shredding the coat, using the strips to tie her onto his back so she wouldn't fall.

"We climb." He announced.

Donny pulled April onto his back as Raph grabbed Casey.

"You guys hold on." Donny told them, "And everyone be quiet. We don't know if anyone is waiting for us up there."

Leo checked Hisako one last time, then jumped into the shaft, grabbing hold of the elevator cable still hanging before him. With practiced motions, he began to climb to freedom. Master Splinter followed closely afterwards, easily keeping up with his son. Donny went next, then Raph, then Mikey, making sure that Klunk remained safely on his shoulders. Leatherhead took the rear, preferring to climb up the walls of the shaft rather than climb the wire.

When they reached the top, Leo happily noted the large rock keeping the elevator doors open.

"We got lucky guys." He hissed down the shaft before peering through the opening. "And there's nobody up here."

"The upper floors must have been evacuated already." April surmised.

Leo jumped from the cable, grabbing hold of the edge of the elevator shaft so he could pull himself through. He then held out his hand for Splinter, and together, they pushed the door open the rest of the way so everyone else could get out.

"Okay, now what?" Casey asked. "It's not like we can just walk out the front door and catch a cab."

"Leave that to me" Donnie insisted, grabbing the remote.

He pushed the homing button as the building began to violently shake. It was becoming increasingly obvious that this building wasn't going to last much longer.

"Don, tell me our ride's here." Mikey muttered, barely keeping balance.

There was a familiar sound of the Shellraiser pulling up alongside TCRI. Everyone looked down at it, relief on all their faces.

"Time to disappear guys!" Leo announced.

"But how will we get down there fast enough?" April asked.

The turtles all smiled, then Leatherhead grabbed both April and Casey, tucking them under his arms. With a running start, they all jumped out of the window, April screaming in terror as Casey shouted in delight. The group rebounded off of the other building and the outer walls of TCRI, aiding in safely making it to ground level. After a moment, the entire group landed safely on the roof of the Shellraiser.

"Okay… next time, warn us before you jump out of a sixth story window!" April screamed as Leatherhead dropped her and Casey.

"No time." The turtles replied in unison.

Climbing off the roof, Mikey threw open the back doors as the group clambered in.

"With this place about to go down, emergency officials will be everywhere." Donny remarked.

"Casey, you take the wheel." Leo ordered. "You know where the garage is."

"Where are the keys?" Casey asked as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Sun screen." Raph replied.

April took the passenger seat, knocking the screen down and handing Casey the keys.

"Next stop, anywhere but here!" He called out.

He gunned the engine, peeling out of the alley. As they made it onto the highway, the Hamato family all watched TCRI's destruction. The building sank into the ground before folding in on itself, crumbling into dust with a loud, satisfying crash. The group of mutants all stared at the large cloud of dust emanating from the sight, signifying the end of TCRI.

"It's gone." Leatherhead whispered, staring at the smoking remnants with a disbelieving smile. "The source of my nightmares, the bane of my existence. It is finally gone."

"Hisako is finally free." Splinter whispered, gently stroking Hisako's head.

"We're all free." Leo clarified.

With the realization that it was all over, the rush of adrenaline and nerves keeping them all awake faded away, One by one, every sagged forward joining Hisako in the land of unconsciousness. When the back of the Shellraiser fell silent, April looked back to make sure everyone was alright. When she saw everyone fast asleep, Hisako in the middle with all her brothers around her, unwilling to let their family go even in unconsciousness, April couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"I can't believe I ever questioned that they were Hisako's brothers." She commented as they drove into the rising sun.

…

The Master overlooked the efforts of his private Disaster Relief squad as they poured through the wreck of TCRI. He'd had to pull several strings to keep the media off the scene, and even more strings with the city to stave off any investigations. If Stockman had somehow survived the destruction of the lab, he would make him wish he hadn't. Hun stood next to him, also surveying the damage.

"Sir! We found him!"

The Master turned to where he'd been called. There, he saw a pair of rescue workers pulling a piece of debris off of Stockman. The doctor was in horrible shape, though whether it was from his altercation with the turtles or from the building falling on him was anybody's guess. Lucky for him, it seemed that a bent I-beam had kept him from getting fully crushed.

"Get him up." he ordered.

Hun pulled Stockman up as he came to, obviously disoriented.

"What… what's going on?" He asked. "What happened?"

"Stockman-" The master began.

"Who?" Stockman interrupted.

The Master paused, red flags going up. Stockman's next words only cemented what he was already thinking.

"Who are you? And who is this Stockman?"

The Master growled in annoyance, gesturing for the rescue men to get Stockman out. Once Hun tossed the amnesiac doctor at them, they left, leaving the Master alone. The man's usually calm demeanor snapped, causing him to turn and punch one of the remaining structural supports so hard that his knuckles broke.

"Master!" Hun shouted.

"Silence!" The Master shouted, not even register the pain as blood dripped down his hand. "TCRI is gone, Stockman has become useless, and all of his research was destroyed in the collapse! This entire operation has become nothing more than a cesspool of failure!"

"Not completely, sir!" One of the workers called out.

The Master looked, surprised as a few more rescue workers uncovered two slightly damaged, but still intact, holding cells. Inside were two of Stockman's projects: Project Horns, and Project Tusks.

"What should we do with them?" One of the workers asked.

The Master looked at the two unconscious creatures, examining them.

"They could be of some use to me." he decided. "Take them to my personal headquarters."

They did as they were told as Hun made an observation.

"It would seem that Stockman was not strong enough to handle the four turtles and Project Oracle."

"You are right." The Master agreed. "Her power was much stronger than any of us could have ever predicted, and those turtles are far more skilled than I initially gave them credit for."

He began to contemplate his next move carefully.

"Perhaps it is time to fall back on more… traditional methods. And I think I know just who to send."