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Donnie's thigh was bleeding heavily as he scrambled over a backyard fence in a residential Queens neighborhood. In retrospect, he realized, he shouldn't have come so far by himself. But rumors of a warehouse filled with fantastic tech had been enough to lure him out beyond the terminus of the seven train. Unfortunately, the stash had also attracted the attention of the Foot Clan. And now Donnie was injured and alone in Flushing, trying to stay ahead of a horde of Foot ninja.
He pushed himself past a plastic playhouse and up and over another fence, stopping to catch his breath in the tall bushes on the other side. He leaned against damp wood of the fence and listened. He couldn't hear anything, but he didn't take that as a sign that he'd lost his pursuers. They were ninja, after all.
Donnie reached into his belt, searching for his phone. He knew he'd dropped it several blocks back, but felt compelled to double check. When he didn't find it, he tilted his head back and looked up towards the dark sky. He could just barely see Sirius and a few other stars. A lone airplane tracked across his field of view.
He blew out a breath and glanced around for a place to hide. He was in a small backyard with a shaggy lawn. A child-sized soccer goal sat on one end, it's nylon net coming loose from the frame. Closer to the house, there was a set of plastic lawn furniture and a faded kickball.
The house itself was an old brick building. A handful of cement steps trotted up to a back door crowned by an oversized light fixture. The fixture, thankfully, was off. Likely because the device was motion-activated. On the first and second floors of the home, a few windows glowed. One emitted a shifting blue light, suggesting that someone inside was watching television. Along the ground near the back steps, Donnie could see a basement window. A gust of wind swept through the yard and rustled the leaves of the bushes. The window gently flapped open and shut.
Donnie held his breath for a moment, listening for foreign sounds, then darted towards the unlocked window. He made a wide arc, attempting to skirt the range of the motion detector light, but the yard filled with bright white light just as he nudged the window open. Cursing softly, he slipped through and jumped to the side of the opening. He exhaled as he reached over and slid the latch shut.
He was in a musty basement. Light from the floodlight outside poured into the room through the window next to him and another one further down, illuminating dark brick walls and large wooden braces, which held up an exposed ceiling. Across from him, a set of creaky-looking stairs led up into the house. They had no railing or wall and were held aloft only by a skeleton of two-by-fours. Beyond that, the room fell into shadows.
Donnie didn't move. He leaned against the wall; listening and watching. The house was quiet, save for the mumbled sounds of a distant television. After an eternity, the outdoor lights went off and the room was plunged into near darkness. He waited still.
Slowly, a new sound emerged in the dark: something moving. Donnie could hear it to his right, where he had seen a cluster of metal shelves filled with cardboard boxes and plastic bins. He slid his bo out from it's holster.
Donnie's eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He pushed himself off the wall and limped towards the sound. His focus narrowed as the shadows began to resolve into shapes and then objects.
Something brushed against a box just as Donnie reached the end of the row of shelves. He turned suddenly, his bo at the ready.
A fat black and brown cat looked up at him with curiosity. It mewed softly. His mouth curved into a small smile and he leaned on his bo, levering himself down in front of the cat. He stretched out a hand and the animal moved towards him. Just before it reached him, however, it's eyes flicked back over Donnie's shoulder. Donnie turned to look and something came crashing down on his head. He slumped over, unconscious.
Donnie was cold when he woke up. His body ached and he felt vaguely nauseous. He cracked his eyes open and groaned as confusion gave way to understanding. He was still in the basement, laying on his side the cement floor. He squinted against the yellow light in the room.
Three men watched him. One of them rested on the bottom step of the stairs. He was holding Donnnie's bo and picking idly at the leather wrap. Another man sat on top of a washing machine set against the wall. The third stood closer to Donnie, holding a baseball bat in a tight grip. There was a smear of blood on the barrel.
"Oh shit! It's waking up!" The man on the washing machine hopped down and punched the bat-wielder in the shoulder excitedly.
The third man stood, dropping the bo. "Shit."
The dull aches in Donnie's body resolved themselves into acute pains. His thigh felt sharp and something pounded against the back of his skull.
"Uh... hi?" Donnie attempted to sit up, but he found it difficult to move.
The man in front scowled at Donnie as he struggled. The brim of his faded blue ball cap cast a deep shadow over his face. "Mutant." He spat the word out like it tasted bitter.
"Uh, yeah," Donnie said. He attempted to keep his tone gentle, but he felt a pinprick of anxiety flaring in his heart.
His arms were pulled back behind his shell. His forearms had been tightly wrapped together, so that his left hand nearly touched his right elbow and the right hand nearly touched the left. Like all of his brothers, Donnie was fairly flexible, but the position was uncomfortable. It tugged on his shoulders, chest, and upper arms.
"Sorry, for showing up unannounced," he continued. "Huge faux pas on my part."
The joke landed with a thud and the hat-wearer's friends turned toward each other.
"Oh, it's sorry," one said to the other. The man looked vaguely amused, like someone watching a dog do a trick.
Donnie looked down along his body to see his legs. A tight wrap of duct tape bound his thighs together. It was likely unintentional, but the wrapping acted as a make-shift bandage for his injury, keeping it from bleeding.
Further down, he could feel more duct tape binding his lower legs and ankles together. He wriggled, attempting to pull them apart. His thigh flared with pain as the tight bindings dug into his wound. Donnie winced and one of the men chuckled. The nervous feeling in Donnie's heart prickled.
"I didn't mean to bother you," he tried again. He spoke lightly, like he was having a casual chat with someone he'd accidently bumped into, rather than facing down three unknown assailants who'd knocked him out and taped him up. "I just needed a place to rest for a moment."
It was a weak excuse for breaking-and-entering, Donnie knew it, but he didn't think that revealing the full truth would deescalate the situation.
"I know why you're here," the man in front responded, twisting the baseball bat in his hands. "You stay the fuck away from my family."
Donnie felt the tension in his chest spike. He was reminded, oddly, of Kurt Vonnegut's ice-nine. A single grain of the substance, when dropped in water, could flash-freeze an entire ocean. He felt like there was a granule under his ribcage. It moved in slow motion, though. His fear was not overpowering, but it was incrementally expanding. Eventually, it would freeze him from the inside out.
"I don't know what you think is going on here," he said, his voice quickening. "I just needed a moment. I'm happy to leave. I promise I'll never come back. I didn't mean to scare you."
The man on the right took the baseball bat from his friend and walked forward until he was standing over Donnie. "You think we're scared of you?" He pulled the bat back over his shoulder and swung down.
Donnie flinched and his lungs flashed cold, but the bat stopped just shy of his face.
The man laughed and looked back towards his friends. "Stupid animal."
Donnie exhaled and the man pulled back with his foot, kicking Donnie hard in the plastron. He grunted at the impact.
"Look, you guys are super tough, I get it." Donnie gave up on his appeasement strategy. "You're totally scary. I feel very threatened. But you got lucky here." His chest defrosted a little as he took on an air of confidence. "I regularly take on guys who are much tougher and much more threatening."
The man wound up and kicked again.
Donnie coughed a breath and continued. "You really should let me go. When my brothers get here, you're gonna be in trouble."
A foot caught him in the chin just as another collided with his stomach. One of the other men had joined in. This time, with a steel-toed boot. "Oh yeah," the new guy roared, "we'll FUCKIN' see!"
The air was forced out of Donnie's lungs as he was kicked again. He gasped for breath.
The the man in the ball cap came over from behind the other two and stepped onto the wound in Donnie's thigh.
"AUGH!" he couldn't suppress the shout of pain.
"You got brothers?" the hat-man asked.
The man leaned his weight forward and Donnie ground his teeth, clenching his jaw shut and breathing heavily through his nose. The other two men stepped back, content to watch.
"Are your mutant brothers coming to MY HOUSE?!"
Tears welled in Donnie's eyes as he weighed his options. "Yeah, they are," he said after a moment. "And they're gonna beat the shit out of you."
The man roared and stomped on Donnie's thigh. Donnie cried out.
Steel-toed boots man grabbed hat-wearer by the shoulder. "We'll be ready for 'em." He reached to the back of his waist band and pulled out a handgun, showing it off to both of his friends, then turned to baseball bat guy, "Dave, get your gun outta your truck. I'll keep an eye on it," he said, pointing the gun towards Donnie.
"Yeah, okay." Dave handed the bat back and raced up the stairs.
The man with the gun backed up a few paces, but kept the weapon trained on Donnie. Hat man stood over Donnie with the bat in his hands. His breathing was heavy.
Donnie's chest heaved as he caught his breath.
"Rob, it'll be fine. Text Diane. She and kids can stay at my place." The gun man's voice was almost gentle.
Donnie let out an exasperated sigh. "Holy crap, I don't know what you think is happening here, but I do. not. care about your family. I don't want anything to do with them. Just let me go and I'll head home and my brothers won't come and we can all forget this whole thing ever happened."
Rob and the other guy ignored Donnie. Rob leaned against the stairs and took out his phone, presumably to text his wife as he'd been instructed.
"Man, this is just like they've been saying," the man with the gun commented.
Rob shook his head. "I mean, you hear people talking about mutant attacks online, but you never think it'll happen to you." He was looking at Donnie, but speaking to his companion.
"Mutants don't attack people," Donnie tried to interject. "Well, most mutants anyway..." He let himself trail off.
Gun man scoffed. "And the media says that mutants don't exist."
"We got proof though." Rob stood up. "We should make a video."
"Aw, they'll never put it on the news. They don't show what's really happening."
"You've gotta be kidding me," Donnie muttered, mostly talking to himself. His tone was completely flat. If he could've, he would've brought a hand to his face.
"We can put it on online and send it around." Rob continued his conversation with the other man. "People should see this. The government isn't gonna keep us safe from these things. We gotta keep ourselves safe." He gestured back towards Donnie.
The other guy nodded, warming to the idea. "Yeah, okay. You're right. Even if it gets taken down, some people will see it."
The floorboards overhead creaked and Dave appeared at the top of the stairs with a shotgun.
"We're gonna make a video, show people the truth about these things," Rob informed Dave as he descended.
"Yeah, okay." Dave nodded his approval.
"That's really not necessary," Donnie said. "This isn't some X-Files cover-up thing. This is just a turtle guy who definitely picked the wrong basement chill out in."
"God, that thing can't shut up," gun man said.
Rob leaned the bat against the wall. He held his phone up, pointing the camera lens at Donnie. "Do you see this? Do you see this?" he narrated to the phone.
"Hi!" Donnie said brightly.
Rob continued on. "It's April 23rd, 2019--"
-"April 24th," Donnie corrected.
"--and I got a fuckin' mutant in my basement." He stepped closer, bringing the phone close to Donnie.
Donnie wriggled and pulled himself half-way to sitting. "You've got a mutant captive in your basement."
Rob frowned and pulled the phone down. He turned towards his friends. "We need to shut it up."
Donnie narrowed his eyes. "Just let me go. And then you'll be free to film your Info Wars crap with no interruptions."
Dave set his shotgun down on the washing machine and picked up the roll of duct tape that rested there. "Hold him still."
Ice crystals bloomed under Donnie's ribs. He squirmed backwards but Rob was on top of him instantly, pinning his arms painfully under his shell. The man with the handgun boots came over and grabbed his head while Dave stretched out a length of tape. Donnie could hear the unmistakable sound it made.
Donnie flailed and worked his jaw, but he couldn't fight off all three men. They were thorough. They laughed and shouted as they passed the roll between them, winding it tightly around Donnie's head until more than half of his face was covered with tape. It wrapped from the top of his head to the underside of his jaw, up over his mouth, and from the nape of his neck to the base of his nostrils.
Donnie's felt his cheeks getting warm, even as his chest froze. Anger, shame, and fear welled up inside of him. He growled at the men and thrashed against the tape.
"Better than a muzzle!" Dave exclaimed. He patted Donnie hard on the top of his forehead. His hand came away bloody and he wiped it on Donnie's plastron. Donnie glared up at him and breathed heavily through his nostrils. He could feel his heart rate ticking up.
Rob pushed off of Donnie and climbed to his feet. Donnie tried not to make a sound as his arms were crushed between his shell and the concrete floor.
The third man pulled his gun back out, presumably from a holster at the small of his back. Dave didn't retrieve his shot gun, but picked up the baseball bat instead. He spun it menacingly in one hand.
Rob pointed his phone at Donnie again. Donnie steadied his breathing and stared the camera down.
"April 24th, 2019," Ron started. "I'm in my basement grabbing a beer and this thing climbs in through the damn window." He tilted the phone up to get a shot of the basement window and then came closer to Donnie. "Take a good hard look. This is not a special effect. This is what's really happening in America today."
Donnie's brow ridge furrowed, but his gaze remained unbroken.
"Mutants are breaking into our houses. They're comin' for our kids. Tryin' to turn them into mutants or groom them or whatever sick shit they can come up with."
Donnie made a noise. He could feel the cold stabbing outward from his lungs
"The government and media don't want you to know about these things. They're gonna keep makin' more, until there's more of them than there are of us."
Rob waved Dave forward with his free hand and the other man stepped towards Donnie, his back to the camera. Donnie's breathing got faster.
"But we're not GONNA TAKE IT!" Rob shouted. Dave lifted the bat. "If you see one of these fucking things, YOU SHOW 'EM!"
Donnie's eyes went wide. The bat came crashing down on his knees and he swallowed a grunt.
"THIS IS OUR COUNTRY!"
Icy needles of fear pierced Donnie's heart. The bat smashed into his head. His vision blurred.
"AND WE'RE NOT GIVING IT UP WITHOUT A FIGHT!"
Dave pulled the bat back over his shoulder, like he was chopping wood, then brought it rushing down onto Donnie's elbow and bound fingers. Donnie felt his elbow fracture. It took all of his effort to keep himself from making a sound.
Dave laughed and looked back towards the man with the handgun. "Hooo! Grab me a beer! I'm just gettin' goin'!" Panic sparked through Donnie, freezing his body from the inside out.
The bat came down again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Donnie lay on his plastron with his head turned to one side. He was numb now, the frigid fear had crescendoed and crashed, leaving him wrung out. The cold in his chest had given way to the actual chill in the room. He could no longer feel individual injuries. The pain was universal, it thrummed through every nerve, every muscle, and every bone. He felt like a shipwreck; lying abandoned and broken on the bottom of a barren sea.
It was lighter now in the basement. Bright sunlight radiated in through the windows and birds chirped merrily outside.
The men had left a few hours ago, but they hadn't gone to bed. Donnie could hear occasional footsteps. He assumed that they were staking out the first floor with their guns, waiting for his promised mutant brothers to arrive.
Donnie waited too. He knew they would come. Eventually.
Donnie had tried to move, tried to drag his body towards something sharp that could cut the duct tape, but he was exhausted and cold. Every breath hurt. Just raising his head to look around made him feel dizzy and nauseous. From where he lay, he couldn't see any obvious ways to cut himself free anyway.
His mask felt loose against his eyes, pushed forward off of his face by tightly wrapped layers of tape. He pulled in the pungent scent of adhesive with every inhalation.
He watched the stairs and the windows, waiting and listening.
A soft movement caught his eye and he looked up the staircase. The tabby from earlier appeared, observing him with curiosity. Donnie sighed. The cat descended the steps, mewing softly as she came.
He made a quiet noise, imitating the sound. She approached and nuzzled his hand where it was secured near his injured elbow. He murmured gently as he tried to pet her with his free fingers, but he couldn't quite reach her. She bopped into his elbow and he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them, she was pacing up and down his side. She leaned her body into him as she swept past. His skin was torn and bruised, but her tiny motions weren't strong enough to aggravate the injuries.
His eyes began to sting. He hadn't cried once since he'd entered the basement. And, yet, for some reason, tears began to flow. They ran under his loose mask and dripped onto the floor as the cat settled against his side. She was purring deeply and he could feel her warmth through his carapace.
Donnie didn't know how long they laid together like this. The light from the basement windows slowly crept along the floor. Outside, he could hear the sounds of a sleepy neighborhood coming to life: first the rumble of garbage trucks, then cars, a lawnmower, children shouting, garage doors, far-off sirens, and on and on, until it sounded like the whole world was awake, rising with exuberance in the spring sunshine. Throughout it all, the cat stayed pressed against him, content to let the bright world slide by as she napped next to him in the dark.
Suddenly, Donnie heard a shout. He jerked his head up and the cat leapt to her feet. There was more shouting and the floorboards above his head creaked and thudded.
A single gun shot sounded.
The cat ran off and Donnie's breath caught in his throat.
He could hear something quietly treading towards the basement door. Hope mingled with fear in Donnie's chest. His heart pounded.
The door clicked open and someone came through.
"DONNIE!" Mikey rushed down the stairs, taking them four at a time.
He ran across the room, dropped his nunchucks, and reached out. When he got to Donnie, he dropped to his knees. His hands stopped for a moment, as though he was unsure what to do.
Donnie tried a muffled 'hi, Mikey.'
Mikey placed a hand on top of Donnie's head and another on his back. "Hey, Don." His eyes tracked over his brother's beaten body.
Donnie's eyes crinkled and he leaned his head into Mikey's hand. Warmth bloomed in his chest.
"I'm so sorry, dude," Mikey said, his voice full of emotion. "I'm sorry I took so long. We shoulda figured it out sooner."
Donnie made a reassuring sound as Mikey pulled out a throwing star.
"You're phone was, like, half a mile from here. We didn't realize." Mikey talked quickly, speaking in half-finished thoughts. His hands shook as he peeled a tent of duct tape back from Donnie's cheek and gently worked the shuriken through the tape. "April found the video. She, like, hacked it or something. She figured out where you were." The blade moved steadily down the side of Donnie's face. "We never woulda looked here. It's, like, just some people's house." Mikey reached the bottom of Donnie's chin and then pulled back on the duct tape. Donnie breathed against the action, his eyes misting involuntarily.
"Mikey," Donnie breathed when his mouth was finally free. "You found me, I'm here."
Mikey nodded. "Okay, okay, yeah. Sorry, I just--"
"I knew you guys would find me."
"Uh, sorry dude, it's just me." Mikey began cutting at the duct tape around Donnie's arms.
Donnie looked back over his shoulder. "Are Raph and Leo okay?"
"Oh, yeah, totally. We've been looking for you everywhere. They're infiltrating Foot HQ--"
"Naturally."
"--April probably texted them too, but..."
"Radio silence." Donnie cited Leo's policy on silencing cellphones during stealth missions.
Mikey had almost finished with Donnie's arms when the floor upstairs creaked again.
Donnie looked up. "Mikey!"
Mikey dropped the shuriken. In one fluid motion, he grabbed his nunchucks, spun around, and stood, placing himself in front of Donnie. Dave was leaning through the doorway, his shotgun pointed at them. There was a nunchuck-sized welt on his forehead.
"Don't move," Dave instructed. He stepped down into the room and crouched low on the upper stairs. The barrel of the gun poked between the two-by-fours that held the staircase aloft.
Donnie could sense Mikey tensing in front of him. He pulled against the remaining duct tape on his arms.
"Stay the HELL AWAY from my brother!" Mikey exploded forward and the shotgun went off, missing wide.
Dave frantically reloaded the gun as Mikey closed in.
"AURGH!" Donnie yanked his hands free and grabbed for the discarded throwing star.
Mikey climbed side of the staircase and Dave pointed the gun down towards him, pumping the slide.
Donnie threw himself towards them, whipping the shuriken with all of his might. It flew past Mikey and embedded itself in Dave's arm.
Dave yelped and dropped the gun just as Mikey reached him. The turtle held a stair with one hand and swept upwards with the other, knocking Dave in the chin and sending him flying backwards. Mikey climbed between the wooden beams and onto the steps, kicking the gun as he came. It clattered down the staircase.
Dave was pushing himself up as Mikey brought a nunchuck down. "Let's see how you like it!" Mikey shouted.
The nunchuck collided with Dave's head. He grunted and fell prone.
Donnie was sitting now. From the basement floor, he could see his brother standing over the man. Mikey's shell rose and fell with each breath.
"He out?" Donnie asked.
"Yeah, unconscious." Mikey's tone was sharp, but the scowl on his face disappeared as he turned back towards his brother. "Thanks for the assist." He smiled softly.
"Anytime."
Mikey descended back towards Donnie. He picked up the discarded bo as he came and then stood over his brother, watching him. Donnie worked his shoulders. He groaned with the movement.
After a moment, Mikey knelt and set down the bo. He leaned forward, embracing Donnie in a careful side-hug. "I'm sorry, bro."
Donnie felt confused. "For what?
"I'm sorry they hurt you."
"It's not your fault. You weren't even here."
"Yeah, but I'm sorry it happened. "
Donnie tilted his head onto Mikey's shoulder. He reached around his brother's back with his good arm.
"Did you watch the video?" Donnie asked, not sure what he was hoping to hear.
"Yeah." Mikey rested his cheek on Donnie's head.
Donnie exhaled. A knot untangled in his stomach and he began to move his fingers, unconsciously exploring the topography of his brother's shell. He became aware of something wet dripping on to his head.
"I'm okay, Mike," Donnie said.
Mikey swallowed. "You promise?"
"I will be okay," Donnie amended. He lifted his head and looked Mikey in the eyes. "I promise."
Mikey sniffed and nodded. He dropped his arms and wiped his eyes, then reached into his belt to retrieve another throwing star. "Let's get you outta this." He patted the duct tape around Donnie's legs. "The sooner we can leave Mets territory, the better." His mouth curled into a playful smile.
"Aw, Mets fans aren't so bad. I kinda feel bad for 'em."
"Donatello, you've clearly been in Queens too long," Mikey said with mock concern. "It's affecting your brain."
Mikey cut through the last of the duct tape on Donnie's legs and then, with instruction, quickly re-taped the wound in Donnie's thigh. The tabby slinked out of her hiding spot while Mikey worked. She eyed them warily for a few moments and then approached, mewing cheerily as she drew closer.
"Aw, hey little guy!" Mikey sing-songed.
"It's a she," Donnie corrected warmly. He leaned out and scratched her head. She tilted into it.
Mikey nudged her out of the way as she attempted to climb up onto Donnie's lap. He ran a hand down her back.
"She's fat and happy," Donnie observed. "Not afraid of strangers at all. It seems like they take good care of her."
Mikey picked up on Donnie's implied thought. He looked back over his shoulder at the unconscious man. "People are complicated," he said.
Donnie nodded, his head was turned toward Dave, but he wasn't looking at the man. His eyes were unfocused. They sat there for a moment, petting the cat in silence.
"Dude, how did you get out here?" Mikey asked.
Donnie didn't react to the apparent non-sequitur. "I, uh, came on purpose. According to some files I dug up, there's a cache of decommissioned EDF hardware in a warehouse on 35th. I took the subway tunnels most of the way."
"What happened?"
"I ran into a full-on legion of Foot ninja. I tried to hide from 'em, but I picked the wrong basement."
"No kidding, dude. Outta the fryer and into the raging volcano."
"Yeah, next time I should probably tell someone where I'm going before I head to another borough alone at 11pm."
"Yeah, totally." Mikey nodded. "I don't think it's gonna be an issue though. Leo is never gonna let you leave the Lair again."
Don groaned.
Mikey stood and grabbed Donnie's bo. "You ready?" he asked. "I'll call April for a pick-up."
"No need," Donnie said, his face breaking into a mischievous grin. "There should be a truck out front that I can hotwire."
"Excellent."
Mikey pulled Donnie to his feet, then helped slide the bo into the holster at his back. Donnie leaned heavily against his brother. They slowly ascended the stairs together, stepping over Dave's prone form on their way up.
"See you never!" Mikey called as they exited the basement.
The first floor of the house was bright. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. Donnie turned to look back as they entered the living room. The cat had followed them up the stairs. She watched them for a moment, then stretched and yawned, curling up in a sunbeam that spilled across the floor.
Donnie, too, was bathed in light and heat. The sun washed over him and his brother felt warm beside him. His insides thawed as Mikey led him away from the darkness.