Ingrained Into Flesh And Bone

by Trash_Panda11

Summary:

Splinters sons have always been.... odd.

It's always something out of the usual happening with them. Purple learning to read with no instruction two years before Splinter would even think of teaching him. Blue having the verbal skills to manipulate Splinter by accident at just four years old.

Orange being flexible and agile enough to squeeze into little spots and then jump halfway to the ceiling as a toddler. Red breaking things far beyond what a toddler should be able to do just to get to his brothers again.

But these are mutants we are talking about, and children. Surely this must be normal.

Chapter 1: The Call

Splinters sons have always been.... odd.

 

Other then the obvious things with them being mutants and half turtle, their behavior has always been a bit to unusual to be written off. Sure children are all weird and freaky in their own unique ways, but these kids were just plain creepy. This Rat used to be scared shitless and equally horrified on a daily basis because of his kids.

 

Raphael was the scariest for a long while, until Splinter learned that this anger and frustration would never be used against his kin. At an age where walking was still shaky and new, he could already break big heavy items with a sloppy punch. Usually after being separated from a brother or so, anything to crush the space between him and community. But Lou would be lying if he said it wasn't scary at first. It was tough for the boy as well, because that much muscle that young meant so many growing pains and general soreness, often leaving him in the same boat as Orange!

 

The crushing things to get to siblings? That was because he would panic if not around them. He needed at least a brother or his father in view otherwise he would cry or maybe get physical. He was the most clingy child, dispite what looking at the group may lead you to believe.

 

He was the reason why they shared rooms for such a long time before Blue managed to unionize his two other brothers and throw a community tantrum large enough that their father relented. At that, he still slept in his father's room for an additional month or so.

 

It wasn't a tantrum, he was scared. It took Splinter seeing the first panic attack he's ever seen a child have to believe the severity of this phobia. He was much gentler after that.

 

Purple had none of his elder brothers strength, but he managed to swing the pendulum to the other end of freaky and scary. He was the slowest to move, the last to move and the weakest in every way. He was so stationary it bordered on scary.

 

He would sit there still and silent in the box Splinter put them in as infants, looking up with dead eyes. It was hard to tell if he was alive because of the sheer stillness. When he was up and moving as a toddler and this was no longer an issue, he would move silent as the whispers of ghosts.

 

It didn't help that he somehow learned how to read a full year before Splinter would even consider beginning lessons, and with no instruction. Upon asking, apparently he learned by watching his dad read out loud. It wasn't long before he started making his own appliances . He is much smarter than any human Splinter could ever remember.

 

Orange was the least freaky, but the one splinter was frustrated by most. He could run circles and leap higher than any brother, to the point where any attempt to catch the box turtle was futile. Lou learned fast that emotional manipulation was more effective than ever trying to catch his youngest son.

 

He was a master of hiding too! It wasn't unusual to have to check shelves and drawers when he was nowhere to be found. He can and could easily contort his body into all sorts of pretzel-Y shapes on the drop on a whim with no stretches. His shell is even more flexy than the actual soft shell of the group.

 

But this seemingly came at a cost, because in the winter his joints would lock up. He would cry from the pain of stiff or popping joints on seemingly random days as well. The only solution the rat had back then was a warm bath or having him spend the day stationary. Purple eventually figured out that tightness helps, and made extra compressive elbow pads and ankle wraps.

 

Blue was no walk in the park either, having been the most slick with his behavior. Splinter caught himself being continuously emotionally manipulated by a toddler more than he likes to admit. As soon as this boy learned how to communicate he was usuing any and all emotions to get his way. Lou isn't even to sure if the boy realized he was doing it!

 

It took Splinter quite a while to figure out what his son was doing and how to fix it, but some scolding seemed to do the trick. Years in the industry made it easy for the problem to be handled. Blue learned when and when not to use that sharp tongue of his rather quickly after that. But he's always been quick to plan and rally the masses either way!

 

The boys have heard about their quirks over and over again, but they just assumed it was a mutant thing. Or a them thing. It was never actually important, right?

 

------------------

 

It was Mikey's fault any of this became relevant.

 

It's late December. Like every year his joints had been locking and stiff for the entire cold season. He's been smothering himself with blankets and hot coco to keep himself functional and sane. Donnie had done his part and buffed the heat enough to maintain Roasty Toasty temperatures, but with them going on patrol that'll only do so much.

 

Donatello had finally decided to put some actual effort into finding a cause and solution, something that he should have done a while ago to spare his youngest brother the pain.

 

There's a few viable things on Donnie's theory board, after a night or so of research, and all of the options require some tests that he'll need Mikey to agree to. Not to mention the rest of the family is getting worried and antsy now that they're old enough for this to be something that affects patrols and their daily life.

 

Thats how Othello Von Ryan ended up  kidnapping his entire family in the living room. Mikey is in Blankets and has the sacred dad cozy chair, because his ankles hurt. But all in all today hasn't been so bad. Raph is sitting next to the chair on the floor, with Leo leaning against his  big bro. Splinter is on the other side of the chair.

 

"Hello brethren and Father," he starts, pressing a button on his tech wristlet to change the projector to his slide show. A blank black slide with white block letters of 'Theories 134'. "Thank you for coming."

 

One look at the Michelangelo lets him know that the box turtle is right on the edge of sleep, seemingly tuning him out in suspect of shenanigans. No matter, because he'll wake up soon.

 

"Didn't have much of a choice," Leo replies, giving his twin a side eye reserved for only the most abhorrent of families crimes. The slider shimmies down his the snapping turtle to use a lower thigh as a shell rest to prop him upright, looking away. Legs cuntily crossed at the ankles.

 

"We were trying to watch Lou Jitzu, Don. This better not be a patrol call. You see these socks? These are the cozy socks," Raph adds. This prompts the scientist to look down at the pair of handmade, fuzzy pink Princess Peach socks on the boys feet. His arms are crossed over his plastron as he gives a glare holding no actual weight, just mild frustration.

 

Splinter seems annoyed, most likely already aggravated from his lack of a chair. "Purple, get off of the TV."

 

"Keep your socks on," Donnie says, completely ignoring his dad. He presses  the button yet again to switch slides. There's now a list of medical conditions on the screen, or placeholder conditions like 'Mutation complications'. "I think you'll find yourself interested in a minute, Raphala."

 

"Wha' are we lookin' at?" Mikey asks, one deep black eye half open and head sideways on the armrest. Hurting and sore ankles are on the extended chair, leaving him in a leaning to the side lying down. It sucks that he's in pain, but it's better than his wrists or a full body ache.

 

"My current data about the cause to your lifelong joint pain and stiffness," He explains, moving his body to the side so he can point out specifics. His outer finger goes to signal to the very top of the slide, where it reads 'EDS'. "This is the cause I feel strongest about, but you don't match many of the symptoms. Maybe if I run some-"

 

"WHAT??!!" three brothers and a rat man so rudely shout at once, after their feeble little brains have finally caught up. The scientists head whips around to see his twin and elder sibling are now sitting up straight and stiff as a board, dad is halfway to standing up and Mikey has stars in his eyes.

 

"Ohmigosh, You finally figured out what's wrong with me?!" The orange box turtle exclaims, hands coming up to his plastrons center in an excited little hand-flap, practically vibrating with excitement. "I thought it was like a turtle thing or a medical mystery- Can you cure me?" His voice is full of hope and relief, more hope than Donatello is currently comfortable letting him have.

 

The soft shell lets out a sigh, and decides to put the effort into letting him down slowly. "I didn't find out exactly what it was, actually. I would need to run a few tests and maybe consult the hidden city library or Draxum," he explains, tapping a finger on his leg. "Sadly I never had the thought to look into this before now, because I have only recently gained an interest into biological science. My apologies."

 

There is a small silence, before Leonardo cuts it up. "Okay- Dee," he butts in, voice a mix of the usual jester he is and a touch of gruff seriousness, "So.... no cure. But you almost know what it is?" He asks, looking at the PowerPoint with analytical eyes.

 

"Yes," He confirms, "If Micheal will let me run some tests, I should be able to at the very least narrow down some causes to his pain. Possibly find medication and treatments to synthesize." He looks back at his family to guage reaction, mostly from the effected turtle. Mikey has wide eyes, looking up at the list in terror.

 

"'Mutation complication' is pretty self explanatory... But what's EDS? Fibbroalgia?" The slider asks, voice

more serious then even a moment before.

 

"Fibromyalgia," he corrects, "And as I said earlier, you don't fit all of the symptoms in the diagnostic criteria for any of these. But there is a chance that the mutation has edited the illness," Donnie has to bring a hand up to rub the bridge of his nonexistent nose, because he's getting tired.

 

There are a LOT of possible answers to his youngest brother's condition, especially in a mutant. It cannot be understated how many things can go wrong when it comes to messing with DNA. It's honestly a suprise that this is the only major issue with any of his family, with the exception of his own autism and maybe the hell that is yearly shedding of scales. Draxum is either the most qualified man on the planet or insanely lucky that the body has a habit of correcting itself.

 

"What sorta tests would you need to do?" Michelangelo asks, voice shaking a tiny bit. Hands still fluttering, but now nervously down in his lap. A fuzzy rat hand gently squeezes his left hand, nails gentle around scales. A silent Rapheal grabs the left one in support as well.

 

Donnie's mouth contorts into a thin line, deciding not to sugarcoat much. Seeing his family stressed over diagnosis like one of dad's medical shows rubs him the wrong way. He doesn't know why.

 

"Blood testing, maybe a skin test to check for EDS if you have that symptom, perhaps a skin biopsy, medical history. Maybe an X-Ray to check for unusual bone structure from mutation."Donatello rambles from the list in his mind, going up and down any diagnostic criteria he can remember for the two major ones. He has accidentally been staring straight up at the ceiling the whole listing and has to force his eyes back down. His hand mindlessly taps his thigh as he searches for the part of the research he has yet to memorize.

 

"This could be easier if we had kept better track of your symptoms as a child versus now, I wish I had kept a better track of your medical history. Especially if this started from birth I mean hatching," Donnie finishes, turning off the PowerPoint with a few clicks of his wristlet. There was more in there to go over, but that was under the assumption that the room wouldn't feel this dark.

 

He walks over to Mikey, lowering himself on one knee so he can be lower than the gaze of his sibling. Mikey isn't panicking, per se, but he is side eyed and zoned out thinking. Perhaps Donatello didn't properly take Into account how springing this on the family so fast would go.

 

They had learned to deal with this over the years without any medical intervention. A mix of heat, rest and toughing it out has always got them through it.

 

He assumed the prospect of a diagnosis and possibly treatment would be exciting, so why is everyone nervous? It's not like it's getting worse, Donnie just finally decided to get on checking it over and finding a diagnosis.

 

"Yo, Don," Leo says, forcing the family to look all the way to the right, "You said medical history from since he was out of the egg, right?" He's leaning back on his knees, right next to Raphael. Elbows and hands on the rest of the chair, chin on his hands.

 

"Yes," the soft-shell answers as he quirks and eyebrow. He stands back up after realizing that being on the ground is just a tad bit awkward right now for him. His no staff comes into his hands so he can fidget with a few of the more useless buttons.

 

"Is there a reason we can't ask Draxum?" The slider asks, sounding pretty damn confident and maybe a little condescending, but Donatello is too busy to smack the metaphorical shit out of his ego.

 

"Oh," is what comes out of his mouth without his knowledge. Even with all of his genius, the obvious often escapes him. He is instantly pulling out the wristlet and typing into it, "Good idea."

 

That manages a chuckle out of their youngest brother, so good is good.

 

Donnie gives the family one of those sighs, but it's paired with a smile. He grabs a note pad from the corner table (they are scattered across the house) and takes a seat on the floor, in front of Mikey's chair. A pen was already hooked to his belt, so he pulls that out.

 

"Are we uh, doin this right now?" Raphael asks, twiddling his thumbs. He's speaking for the first time in a while. He's been so quiet that Donatello almost forgot he was here.

 

"Would you rather we wait?" Leo asks, taking a moment to lean on his elder brother in a show of teasing affection. Even with the like poking of fun, he seems to checking the snapping turtle for any signs of outer distress or a reason to not call. Leo doesn't think he seems too distressed, but then he sees what Raph is looking at.

 

Raph tilts a head subtly towards their dad. The boys can see, but the rat can't. Oh yea, right. The tension still isn't gone yet between those two. Forever trapped in a two sided stream of side eyes and passive aggressive comments.

 

"Make the call," The slider says, ignoring the concern of Rapheal. Hopefully they can control their dad enough so this doesn't turn into an argument. They're supposed to be focusing on the prospect of fixing Mikey. Hopefully he can keep his eyes on the prize for right now. Worse case scenario either the boys can make a run for it or one of them can pick up their dad and toss his potato body into a different room.

 

Donnie pressed the button for the call to the Goat man, setting it to speakerphone.

 

Ring Ring Ring- 

 

"Well he sure is taking his sweet time," splinter says, in that stuck up tone that he usually makes an effort to associate with his son's maker.

 

Ring

 

"Not right now dad," Mikey corrects, taking the hand closest to him and patting his fuzzy little head.

 

Ring *Click* 

 

Donnie sighs and lets his wrist tech fall to the side of his hips with his arm. "He's either busy, sleeping, without his phone or dead."

 

"Or ignoring you," Splinter reminds, putting the superior dad face on and patting his pained son's arm gently. "There is no reason you cannot question me instead, I was there for the childhood. I have plenty of experience doing interviews, after all!"

 

His spawn collectively stare at him, a deadpan face across all of their faces.

 

"Stop looking like purple!" He shouts. A look of exasperated defeat crossing his face mixes with the stubbornness deep within his soul and he takes a seat a bit further away from Michelangelo's chair, looking out at the distance of the living room now that he has been successfully subdued.

 

"Mikey, why don't you try calling him," Raph suggests, watching his brother grab the phone from the armrest.

 

"I don't think he'll pick up for me if he didn't pick up for Don Don," the box turtle says, but presses the button anyway.

 

Rin-

 

"Yes, Mikey?" The phone projects across the room for them all to hear. "Did something happen?" His voice is softer than you would expect, maybe even a bit raspy with sleep and fatigue. You hear  some ruffling of what they can only assume is him sitting up from bed. Oh, they forgot he wasn't nocturnal.

 

Donnie huffs, which just so happens to sync with his father making the same sound. But he picks himself up and takes the phone from his younger sibling. Sitting back down criss cross with the note pad balanced on one thigh and the phone on the other, leaned over in the shrimp posture he usually has.

 

"Mikey is in pain, and has been in pain apparently since our father got us," Donnie deadpans, taking advantage of his serious science voice to scare Draxum just a little. He is not a patient turtle and would like to get the info and get out with haste.

 

"What ?" Draxum asks, doing what sounds like getting out of bed. "Since Lou jutsu got you? What? Was he injured in the escape or does he have a genetic malfunction from my editing? How has this never come up before!" He asks rapidly, voice tense and even a bit panicky. There's the jingle of keys in the background, the sound of clothes being tossed on.

 

Donnie rolls his eyes, but keeps talking anyway. "Calm down, it's not getting any worse or any better. It's joint pain, lifelong. I'm finally trying to solve it," He rattles off, clicking the pen in his hand once or twice. "I want a medical history, or something. Did you notice anything weird when we were hatchlings?"

 

"Joint pain?" Draxum asks, mostly just so he can repeat it to himself. I edited his joints a lot in the DNA processing, maybe I pushed it too far." His voice seems to hold what feels like genuine regret, maybe even shame and sadness. It's rare to hear from him, but perhaps a good sign.

 

"You messed with his joints?" Raph shouts from the Mikey's side, upper body leaned forward in an attempt to hear better. "Why would you-"

 

"He was supposed to be the contortionist, of course I messed with his joints. I needed him to the flexible one of you four," is the answer he gets.

 

"Contortionist?" Michelangelo asks, eyes glowing with realization as he grabs his fingers and pushes his wrist back almost so the back of his hand touches his arm. He's always been able to do that, but now he's just showing off. He's always been the most flexible, and the best at jumping and being fast and stuff.

 

"You imbedded a JOB into him?" Leo and Splinter ask simultaneously, looking at Mikey with wide eyes. Watching him stretch out his hand to his wrist. But it's only Splinger who keeps going

 

"How could you do that to an infant! He was barely able to breathe and you were already-manipulating his little body!" The father cries out, putting a protective hand on his smallest son's shoulder. The perceived threat isn't here, but that won't stop the dramatics.

 

"I was building war machines! Of course I ingrained jobs into you all.  You were supposed to be an assassination and fighting team. I wanted one of you who could fit into tiny spaces or something," Draxum sounds more tired now, the adrenaline of the original panic over his favorite turtles pain has faded. He can be tired later though, maybe he should have told the turtles that he bred in functions to them. But shouldn't that have been obvious?

 

"Wait..... Biological functions Ingrained into us ALL? What are the rest of us programmed to do?" He asks, thinking it over. Jobs? Of course they were all bred to be machines and fighters, their bodies are quite literally built to kill and fight. But specific jobs?

 

He looks back at his brothers- eyes catching on Raphael. Perhaps that one is a bit obvious, but what was Leo built for if not a general fighter? Is there any chance that his super intelligence was granted to him by Draxum?

 

What about minor things, like Raphs separation anxiety or Leo's anxiety in general? His own silent breathing to perhaps Mikey's autism?  How much of their personality has been put into their bodies by their creator? How many things have they sorted out on their own or faded with age? How many traits are encoded into their bodies that never succeeded? Is their DNA a graveyard of failures?

 

"Well of course you all have jobs, what was I gonna do? Make you all generic fighters and then have to train you into specific groups? Thats inefficient and boring," The Goat speaks, and Donatello may agree with him on this. It would be very boring to make four creations of the same function and type.

 

There's a small silence over the room, thick and considering.

 

"What's my job?", Leonardo asks. Always one to break the tension in the moment of quiet. "Do I have secret flying abilities that I don't know about? Or like- can I stare into the sun without going blind? Secret poison??"

 

"No," The reply comes from the speaker, "And we should be getting back to Michelangelo's pain. Are there any triggers, and how many joints does it effe-"

 

"Pleaseeeeeee Oh wise creator? Daddy?" Leo whines out, diving forward onto the floor to lay on his plastron. His hands under his chin and legs swinging in the air, batting nonexistent eyelashes. Not that the person he's trying to convince can see him.

 

Lower than what Leonardo said, under his breath, you can hear Mikey whisper "cold." 

 

"He is NOT your daddy!" Splinger yells, tail going pin straight behind him as arms come to his side in dramatic fists.

 

"Please never refer to me as 'Daddy' ever again," The goat replies, gruff voice growing quieter. You can hear more sounds of fabric shifting.

 

"And you were supposed to be... what was it now.... manipulation and tactics? There's an illness called Williams syndrome that impacts every part of a persons brain but socialization and speech. They are rather outgoing people. I edited your DNA to collect the qualities I wanted you to have and left out the rest. Although there was a major risk of you inheriting the syndrome for yourself," The creator rants.

 

There is a stunned silence, one that not even Leonardo can penetrate. Raphael stares at his direct younger, and Mikey squeezes the sliders hand. Splinter just looks stunned by all he's heard. Donatello scribbles furiously onto the notepad on his lap, writing it down even before he can think.

 

"What.... did you do to me?" Donatello asks, hand stilled and gaze spaced out onto concrete before him.

 

"I don't remember, right now. I knew Leonardo's because it was memorable. Look- Do with Michelangelo what you usually do to quell his ache and in the morning I will dig up and forward you the documents of your mutations, alright?" Draxum explains.

 

"You can't just le-" Raphael tries.

 

Click

Chapter 2: The response

Notes:

Okay sooo uh for this AU let's just all imagine Draxum had the turtles for a tiny bit longer before Splinter took them. Also they kinda looked like the 2012 TMNT turtles as those chunky babies? Everyone got that? Cool okay.

Okay listen up and listen well- I am NOT falling for Medic!Leo propaganda. Not for 2018, not for 2003 and ESPECIALLY not for 2012. I don't care about what you say about 2018 having pouches or 2012 having that healing hand shit. Hs ain't no medic. (Politely)

Also: for any old people. Sybau (Sai-B- Ow) means "Shut your bitch ass up"

It's morning when Donatello gets forwarded four separate google docs, not that he's gotten more than a hour or so of sleep. He's been theorizing and typing since the family dispersed from the living room after the phone call.

 

He steels himself mentally, takes a very deep sigh, and opens the Google Doc's.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

#1, Raphael (Red) Hamato

 

Alligator Snapping Turtle  (Macrochelys temminckii)

 

Male

 

Black eyes (Naturally yellow tinted sclera)/ Medium green scales/ No patterns

 

Unforeseen Complications: Snaggle Tooth,  Had issues coming out of his shell and needed manual assistance

 

Job: Protector, heavy lifter and main strongman

 

#1 has the most natural muscle and height of all of my creations, combined with the biggest drive to fight and defend. The most aggressive of my four creations and also the most loyal to the group, because I edited out the solitary instincts of turtles and replaced it with general pack mentality DNA.

 

He has the thickest skin and shell, complete with somewhat dull spikes on both skin and shell. Produces a more dramatic testosterone response when feeling threatened or scared compared to his brothers or humans.

 

Drawbacks: Severe separation anxiety is naturally imbedded into him, as a result of his protector status and pack animal mentality. He also needs to consume more calories than his body size would lead you to believe.

 

More information: My first creation and the one I took the least risks on, but in hindsight I would have preferred to have used a bit more creativity with him. Boosting his aggressiveness a bit more would have Likely yielded better results if I had been able to insert a clause to protect his brothers and myself if he got out of hand.

 

Despite efforts to get him to sleep and or be alone for a few minutes, he managed to nearly throw himself out of where he was set. I had known that separation may be an issue for this one, but I was not exspecting an issue this dramatic. I may have to train him with exposure therapy going forward. He seems the most enthusiastic to put non-edible objects into his mouth. His species of turtle is cannibalistic and while he has yet to attempt to consume his brothers, I have Huginn keeping an eye out for any attempt at doing so.

 

I wish I had given this one asthetic patterns to match his brothers, but the spikes will have to do.

 

Later update: Have just seen my creations again after many years, and he has far more muscle than I predicted he would have. He is however, a few inches shorter than I assumed he would be at this age. He has pushed himself in front of a brother during the battle, seemingly thoughtlessly. But I have no clue if that is natural elder brother instinct's or my one doing. Lou named him Raphael, along with his brothers being named after artists. I must update their names.

 

Otherwise, he seems to be in good health and well fed and nurtured.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

#2, Donatello (Purple) Hamato

 

American softshell turtle

 

Male

 

Heterocromic eyes, Blue (Left) & Red (Right)/ medium-dark scales/ Rectangular purple patterns across body

 

Unforeseen complications: Heterochromia,  Poor eyesight, Autism

 

Job: Stealth and Intelligence

 

His body is naturally skinny, and his hearing and night vision have been improved. His breath is silent due to a mix of normal breathing and subconsciously breathing out of the pores on his cheeks. He has also been encoded to have a bigger cranium and hopefully a higher IQ than average. I expect great things neurologically from this one.

 

Drawbacks: I'm beginning to think I edited far to provide him with night vision that I have accidentally looped back around to poor eyesight. Also, I have given him excelling hearing which I do not think is helping with how overstimulated this infant is.

 

In my efforts to make his body stealthy, I have made him weak and slow. However there is reason to suspect so far that he will grow out of his fragility. When the boys are set together, I usually place this one as far away from #1 as I can.

 

More information: Despite being the weakest, he seems eager to starve. My many attempts to feed him have ended with milk covering me instead of being in his belly. I had to insert an IV in his arm just to feed him right after hatching and I am considering doing so again if I cannot find a way to get him to latch to a bottle or consume any formula. However, he holds focus on an object better than any of my other creations and even looks when I point at things, already so far above human development cognitively I assume. He is too young to check for intelligence, but hopefully he is brilliant.

 

He is a very stationary baby, and does not babble or kick nearly as much as I hoped he would be. He is also slow compared to his brothers. A brain scan confirmed unusual activity associated with autistic infants and newborns. I fear for how this will affect his Duties, just as I fear for #3 in the same way. I hope no mistakes to grave were made, but only time will tell if he can preform the duty I created him for. Worst case scenario I am sure he shall make a great asset, even if no fighter. A logistics and informant worker may be of use as well.

 

I must admit, I am the least excited and hopeful #2's potential.

 

Later update: He is just as brilliant, if not more so, than I assumed he would be. He has certainly gained strength and kept wits as he grew. He appears well fed and nurtured like his brothers. I find myself regretful for my ill words earlier. He would be a great asset to have on my team.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

#3, Leonardo (Blue) Hamato

 

Red eared slider

 

Intersex / Male

 

Dark blue eyes/ Light green scales/ Red Crescent shaped patterns around his eyes, with greyish lighter green patterns around the biceps.

 

Unforeseen complications: ADHD

 

Job: Emotional manipulation and tactics

 

I used the most creativity with this one, using the traits I required found in a human genetic disease called Williams syndrome. It should provide him with excellent social skills and a cunning personality. Hopefully I can train him in manipulation and tactics.

 

I'm debating setting him up for future leader of the group, because his skill set would most likely be put to use best getting a group to co-operate on a task. That is, if I can trust him enough with the task.

 

Drawbacks: There is a very high possibility of him having Williams syndrome in some form or way, even if the mutation hides it for now. All of the scans are coming back negative, but i cannot help but worry. Hopefully there will be a chance to maybe add a 5th if this one proves insufficient for battle, but perhaps he could work in negotiation with me.

 

Besides from that glaring issue, there is a possibility that I have given him so much manipulation skills that it backfires so horribly he ends up manipulating me or one of my staff. I will have to keep an eye on his behavior to ensure that this never comes to fruition. He also carries a risk of anxiety with a mind made for planning.

 

More information: While Anatomy is mostly male, this one had an influx of the female hormone for his species as a result of an accident while gene editing. I managed to course correct enough so that his development will be mostly normal, but there's no telling what effects this could have.

 

Developmentally, he is the most average on a human scale of my experiments. He seems to be right on track where he should be compared to the others who are either behind or ahead in some area. Nice latch, babbling and wiggling a normal amount for an infant and tracking movement correctly for age group. He was not built for group activities in the same way as red, but he does tend to get anxious when #2 is far away from him for too long. It's unknown if he is aware on some level that #2 is sickly, or if they have some form of littermate syndrome from similar birthdays.

 

He also seems easily agitated by #4's army crawls all over his space, throwing crying fits when his younger brother tries to climb on him.

 

I have dropped him on his head before. He appeared to be fine.

 

Later update: It appears most, if not all of my hard work, was for naught. I am deeply disappointed with my own work. He is not the leader, nor was he able to even charm my gargoyles. I regret letting them all go, but this one seems lively and would certainly bring some joy or entertainment back to my lab.

 

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#4, Michelangelo (Orange) Hamato

 

Box turtle

 

Male

 

Dark brown eyes/ dark green scales/ Golden circle patterns across his body

 

Unforeseen complications: ADHD

 

Job: Contortionist and Speedster

 

Like is elder brother, I took some inspiration from a human genetic disorder called EDS. I was able to give him very bendy joints and cartilage. Even his shell is slightly more flexible then his brothers (with the exception of #2). He also has been gifted extra energy reserves and by toddlerhood should be the most mobile of my creations.

 

There is also better padding in the soles of his feet, not unlike elephants, to provide better cushioning during high jumps.

 

Drawbacks: The EDS inspired editing may have been taken a bit too far, but he seems to be fine and pain-free for now in the controlled setting of my lab. Hopefully I managed to edit out the undesirable genes. Other than that, he is already a handful and he is yet to even crawl. Constantly wiggling and babbling loudly.

 

He is also at risk for loss of sensation in his feet form the extra padding I have coded into him, but that should not be too disabling. He will however need to check for injuries often if that is the case.

 

More information: He and #3 are very loud combined, and it doesn't help that they seem to be having entire conversations in gibberish.

 

He is yet to crawl, but he somehow gets around further than you would imagine a newborn to get. I have found him almost fallen off of a crib or changing table more than once when Munnin wasn't paying attention well enough. He is also the wiggly and flexible, meaning even I myself have nearly dropped him while attempting to move locations with him.

 

After discovering #3's ADHD, and #2's autism, I decided to also scan this one's Brain and discovered activity similar to #3. It's getting hard to tell if this is me overreacting now and diagnosing them too soon or if I'm messing with their minds too much. Red is the only one without these issues and I had edited his brain the very least. I will have to keep tabs on this.

 

Later update: After finally seeing him after these years, I am stunned by what I have managed to create. He managed to jump and flip at an extremely high height, and is seemingly the most energetic.

 

Like his brothers, from what I can tell he is being well fed and taken care of.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

General team

 

Strength: All of the turtles have had a cap on their body fat, around 7%-10%. That small amount will provide them enough stored energy to stay energized in a fight without allowing them to potentially have weight problems.

 

Any and all extra mass will be converted into muscle. Obviously #1 will have the most strength, but the rest will by no means be weak. Of course there was a small extra edit made to allow extra fat for cushioning in the baby and toddler years so they don't get deformed or have complications.

 

So far, the only effect I've seen this have is that they can temporarily hold their head up for a few seconds, despite being infants. #4 has also been seen army crawling/flopping around so far, which is far to much for a usual baby his age. #1 is the most solid,  and can actually grasp my hand and pull with surprising force (not enough to knock me over, but enough to surprise me the first few times). They should start losing this baby fat, and extra fat for good, around toddler years when they start running.

 

Training plan: They are babies right now, and sit around all day doing basically nothing, but they'll have to start training eventually. I plan to encourage movement and simple games in the toddler years, as younger children's only job should be play (I don't want them developing any mental health issues. I need all of my assets ready to fight).

 

I plan on starting light training around age 6 for them, maybe sooner if I turn it into a game of sorts. The first year or two should be mostly about gaining a good solid physical base, like flexibility and speed. Teamwork training should also start around then.

 

8 years old is when actual training will start, but I plan to keep it age appropriate. At 8 years old children have enough motor skills to properly learn moves and start turning them into muscle memory. But they'll need to learn how to properly take a punch or learn how to fall without injury beforehand. I'll introduce mystic weapons and actual blades somewhere around 10-11, most likely giving each of them a seperate weapon. (I think I'll give #1 brass knuckles, #3 can have nunchucks. I should also give #2 some sort of poison weapon, maybe daggers? I'll also train him in archery or crossbow usage, as he will do better as a long range fighter)

 

11-14 will just be improving upon skills, learning moves and preparing for the war they'll fight in. I want them in combat by 14 if my plan goes as smoothly as I have planned it.

 

Extra: Keeping them around each other will have to be a balancing act. Not enough time with each other will lead to a bad and un-unified team dynamics, but too much time together might built resentment.

 

I'll have to be careful letting #1 and #2 spar together, because while #2 is built to sneak around silently #1 is built for crushing. I think #2 will be kept from any and all spars until I am sure he is ready.

 

Update: My creations are gone, long gone. Lou has taken them and I may very well never see them if Lou manages to get them killed or takes them far enough away.

 

But perhaps this doesn't have to be the end of my experiments, and perhaps #4 doesn't have to be the last turtle I create.

 

Perhaps I can use my plan after all.

-------------------------------------------

 

Donatello lays still and stares for a moment, having read his brother's data sets throughly. He has also read his own over three times.

 

First of all: breathing out of his cheeks is a horrible image to have stuck in his head. He has elected to ignore it and never think about it ever again.

 

So- Draxum gave him autism and poor eyesight while attempting to make him a more perfect war machine. He must admit, he would never in a million live: trade his intelligence for being neurotypical. The eyesight thing was a dick move though having to preform laser eye surgery on himself was not very fun. The talk about him being the weakest one and refusing to latch? That lines up. Splinter sometimes talks of the winter he wasn't sure if purple would survive.

 

Leo nearly having Williams syndrome was said last night, but it felt no better to read today. The talk about both him and his twin being possibly subject to other jobs in the war shall their genetics fail wasn't exactly fun. However, it was far less horrific than what Donnie thought would happen if they were incapable of fighting under their creators parentage.

 

Speaking of Leo, the intersex thing was a shock. The scientist had to do a double take after reading that, but in hindsight it makes some mild sense. From the markings to some of his more flamboyant behavior to his later developmental pace in puberty, there were signs. He should probably run a hormone panel later to see if Leonardo needs supplements or something along that vein.

 

He also feels like an ass for making fun of his elder brother's separation anxiety, because apparently it's etched into his brain. Also, finding out that Draxum regrets leaving him without patterns put a giggle in his throat. But, there's not much that Donnie can think or do about any of his issues.

 

Finding out that Michelangelo's condition WAS inspired by EDS brings him some satisfaction on getting it right, but opens more doors of concern. He's honestly very surprised that he hasn't made the connection sooner. The extra padding in his feet also explains a lot of his "Razz-Matazz" and how he doesn't constantly have sores and sprains.

 

There was also something about not having to be the last turtle? He almost lets out a laugh at that. He's gone on tangents tangents , something will break and he'll make plans to rebuild but never does. Draxum really was crazy back then, huh?

 

He also got the weapons they ended up using WAY WRONG, but he was right about Don using a long range weapon. Sorta. Leonardo having the nunchucks instead of Mikey is a funny thing to imagine, because he would constantly be hitting himself with them. Raph having brass knuckles is something he'll have yo think about gifting though....

 

Donnie sends the individual documents to his printer and shuts off his phone, deciding not to send them the whole team analysis. Instead he just sends the link to the family group chat for them to read later, because that's just not as interesting as the rest. He rolls over to get a few minutes extra sleep. He can let his brothers and himself rest just a while longer before bombarding them with information and tests, they deserve it after the night before.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

It’s breakfast when he finds all of his brothers around their booth table, and he comes bearing gifts of papers. There’s already a plate of pancakes (syrup on the side, just like he likes it. No fruit because he dislikes two temperatures on one plate) at his usual seat.

 

He stands before the booth and passes each brother their respective paper, then takes a seat and grabs the fork that was placed by his plate. He gets to see Leo’s eyes widen as he gets to what must be the sex designation. He will admit he has to suppress a chuckle by shoving an extra forkful into his mouth. It’s Raph who does something next, whispering an “awww” on some part, but no clue what. Mikey has finished his, seemingly reactionless but it’s not like Donatello has been paying attention.

 

After they all finish, he assumes there would be a conversation or something. But no — Leonardo and Michelangelo make eye contact, and then swap papers. The scientist eagerly pulls out his phone, pulls up his own and passes it to Raph so they can swap. He’s already read everyone else’s, but might as well let them read his.

 

They spend a while doing that, swapping papers and phones like trading cards about themselves. They finally finish reading and re-reading, by now their purplest brother is the only one who has finished his meal before it went cold.

 

“Soooooo… Is now a good time to ask what intersex is?” Leonardo says as he sets down the last paper he got to — his twin’s — and decides to stare down at the table. It gets the attention of the full family currently present.

 

“It means you’re not… entirely male?” the other middle brother answers, still picking at the last of his plate. “I will admit I’ve never done any sort of research into this, but from what I’ve gathered I assume it’s more about your hormones rather than your body.”

 

“Oh, cool,” the red-eared slider answers, “So like… Do I have to switch pronouns now?” he asks, dragging his index finger in a small circle next to his plate, tilting his head to the side and resting it against the other palm. The other two have gone back to eating to avoid having to answer any question or participate in this conversation until the topic changes.

 

“Do you want to?” Donnie asks, quirking an eyebrow that he drew on not 20 minutes ago.

 

“Not really,” Leo admits, forking pancake into his mouth slowly.

 

“Then don’t,” Donnie answers simply, putting his fork down on his unused napkin following the last bite of food. “Also thanks for making these, Mikey, delicious.”

 

“Thanks, Dee. I tried something new with the butter,” he accepts in the usual chipper voice that he fakes, but that was seemingly by accident. His voice drops lower and sadder again not a moment later. “Also — breathing out of your cheeks? Dee, I never want to see you breathe ever again, politely.”

 

“Yeah, I’m with Mike Mike,” Leo butts in, “Donnie, you should never breathe again.” He giggles, a teasing smile on his face that on a worse day would earn him a slap or a wrestling match. Sadly the conversation is a tad bit too serious to bite Leonardo right now, but he shall receive his dues later.

 

“Says the dude who made Draxum put in all that hard work just to not be leaderrrr~” the twin shoots back, smiling. Their eldest brother flashes a smile too.

 

“It’s okay, Leo, not everyone can be a success like me,” says the snapping turtle, fanning out his hands and tucking them under his chin for show. He bats eyelashes that don’t exist in mockery of the slider and smiles all giddy.

 

Leo sighs, the small disappointment masked with a sly grin, “At least I’m the hot brother,” he puts a hand over his plastron and the wrist of the other on his face in the damsel-in-distress pose.

 

Raphael rolls his eyes, then picks up his paper again, wanting to read it over. He gathers the rest of the papers in a small little stack, taking Donnie’s still unlocked phone from the table as well. (His phone doesn’t shut off automatically when left alone — that was annoying and bad for lab work) Looking them over once again, and no one stops him or comments.

 

“Debatable,” Mikey responds, pulling up an arm to flex his bicep and pointing to it. Then striking a pose to show his strength earned by ninja training and stellar genetics gifted by the gods — or a goat man. The last 24 hours have proved it’s a goat man. Genetics gifted by Satan, perhaps?

 

“Okay, Mr. Elephant Foot,” Leonardo says, reaching across Raph to poke his baby brother’s sad little muscles. “How you gonna kill the ladies, Mr. Lady Killer? Stomp ’em to death?”

 

“Better than boring them to sleep, Mr. Smooth Talker,” Donnie says as he pokes Mr. Smooth with his fork, still coated at the tips in sticky syrup and a crumb of glorious pancake.

 

Nardo rolls his eyes, “Perhaps you should go sit down all quiet and still like when you were just a widdle babbyyyyy~,” he pinches the cheek of his brother, some syrup still coated on his fingers. Now there is a sticky and icky bad texture on Donnie’s cheek — ew. Keep it on your fork, you savage. He wipes his cheek off with the clean part of his fork.

 

“Didn’t you literally get dropped on your head as a baby?” Mikey asks, playful glint in his eyes and a giggly undertone in his voice. “Explains a lot.”

 

“S’yeah,” Leo replies, “At least I was a normal baby and not crawling around as an infant like a demon-possessed doll,” he leans back, stealing Raphael’s glass of milk to take a sip. Thankfully he’s too busy to notice the theft of sustenance.

 

Mikey opens his mouth to reply, but then looks at their eldest brother.

 

“Raphy, you good?” Mikey asks, gently bumping the bulky brother to his left. Raphael has been staring at the table. The documents are now off to the side of his arm. “Whatcha thinking about?”

 

“I can’t tell if he actually cared about us, just from reading the notes,” Raph pipes up. His mouth is twisted in a subtle frown. “I mean — he switched between doin’ stuff that could kill us to talking about how much we moved as babies to talking about how much he misses us in the later note things.”

 

“Did he miss us, or did he miss his little war machines?” Leonardo replies nonchalantly, eyes closed for a moment as he savors his food. Eyes opening again to see his littlest brother glaring straight into that soul of his with the most wicked little face. His hands instantly raise up to cover his face in defense, “Not that he hasn’t changed now! I mean like, back when we first stole his weapons and shit.”

 

“I mean, maybe he misses us? You have to be formal in scientific documents, but I must admit my S.H.E.L.D.O.N notes look similar,” Don butts in, thinking fondly for a moment about the robot he lost. He noticed the similarities while reading, the fondness hidden behind formal words and data sets. It’s hard to detach completely from emotion when you’re the only person writing, and the writing is presumably only for you.

 

“This is different from S.H.E.L.D.O.N,” Raph replies, “You treated him like your own kid, and he wasn’t even organic material! The like — emotionally not-there documents you have are you building him. This is medical shit and he was describing what he did to make us killing machines!”

 

“He missed us,” Mikey says firmly, voice stern, the wicked little face replaced by seriousness and something like pride shines in his eyes. His voice is loud, but not shouting. He sounds sure of himself, “I know he did, why else would he have mourned Venus—”

 

Michelangelo cuts himself off fast, hands flying over his mouth.

Notes:

Cliffhanger muahahahhaha

Oh also if you're sensitive to child loss themes, I suggest you stop reading now or try to read while in a good mental state from now on. The next chapter and possibly more in the series will be mentioning those themes HEAVILY.

Chapter 3: The Truth

Notes:

IF YOU HAVE TRAUMA AROUND INFANT/BABY/CHILD DEATH, I ADVISE YOU TO BE CAUTIOUS WHILE READING.

Sooooo Mikey's POV this chapter shhhh go with it lmao it made sense in my brain

Oh ALSO- there is art in this chapter. It's been deleted by whoever the fuck posted it but someone tried to like market their patreon and shit in my comments? I'm pretty sure Ts was from picrew too so like ahhhhh fuck you. I made my own art (I can draw) and have decided that the next part of this series will have actual drawings I make because fuck that guy.

(He made this whole plan framing it as fanart before telling me that it was paid. My crash-out is justified)

The silence that stretches over the room is thick and tense, practically swallowing the group of them up as if they were caught in molasses.

 

If Michelangelo hadn't been so stupid as to spill Draxums secret- the first thing he had ever been trusted with by the man- then maybe there wouldn't even be a silence. If he had just kept a better watch over his loose tongue and big mouth, then this wouldn't be an issue.

 

But now he has three sets of eyes on him, displaying every emotion from curious to dreadful.

 

Just as he takes his own two hands off of his mouth, his stupid mouth, he notices what his brother is doing. Donatello looks shocked and regretful and questioning. Mikey knows that look well, it's the 'I fucked up' look. Did he know about Venus too? As far as he knows Draxum has only told him he's the only one who knows about their little sister. His hands slip down to his lap, bunching up and grabbing at skin enough to sting and most of all distract. Just one second to collect his thoughts and find a lie he can tell. He's usually a pretty honest guy, but surely a lie here can be justified.

 

"Mourned... Venus? Who's that?" Rapheal asks, more genuine curiosity than anything else. He had looked the most confused, and the least fearful, at what his youngest brother had said. The questioned turtle responds by looking away, eyes darting around, letting them land anywhere but his eldest brother's face.

 

He can't think of a lie. A way out without making himself look like an idiot or exposing what Draxum asked him to hide. He stays silent and panicked as he looks around the room more. From the uneaten bits of food on his plate to Donnie's stimming with his hands.

 

"Mikey?" Leonardo asks, voice stern and serious. Now that Mikey knows what Leo was made to do, he realizes that he's always the one breaking the silence. Hindsight is 20/20. "Who's Venus?"

 

"I-I.... um... I wasn't supposed to tell you that," He answers, taking his hands off of his lap and moving them onto the table, one thumb coming to fidget by pressing on skin. Subconsciously mimicking his older brother.

 

"Well you did. Now explain," Leo demands, although it's gentler than usual demands he makes. Shoulders are tight and eyes are worried.

 

"I can't," is the reply he gets, remembering his promise to their maker. He can't break that. It's the most important thing he's ever been trusted with, how could he ever break that? He was trusted first, not his brothers. He's never been the first one to know anything before them.

 

"Why," Raphael asks, looking at the box turtle. Because what could possibly be keeping him from sharing something that is clearly this important. Donnie and Leo would do this, sure. They've always been a bit more secretive. But Michelangelo keeping secrets; something is wrong.

 

"He wants to keep it a secret, please respect that," Mikey tries to dodge, using that therapy talk he's so good at. Judging by his family's faces, it's not working. Especially Donnie- face looking at the table, hand supporting his head as he stares down.

 

"Mikey you can't just drop 'Mourning Venus' and expect us to drop it," Leo responds, voice slowly losing patience. But he can tell that his brother is more concerned than actually mad.

 

The box turtles face bunched up, "Leo, Please-"

 

"She was another turtle, wasn't she?" Donnie interrupts, mismatched eyes staring down at the booth. Hand coming to slide down his face in a self soothing way. His face looks almost emotionless, but the people who were raised with him can tell that behind that face there is confusion and a question he wishes not to be answered.

 

"How did you-!" Mikey almost yells, not out of anger, out of shock. His eyes are starting to gloss over as hands once again clench into fists.

 

"There was an extra note he sent about teamwork and it mentioned another," The soft shell replies, dread drips off of his words onto the table and his forgotten empty plate. "I didn't bother printing it out because it was boring, but..."

 

"We have a little sister?!" Raph interjects, eyes pinned on Mikey with a glint of betrayal, but that fades fast into excitement. Mouth tilting into a smile and eyes going all wide as he thinks about what must be a younger sibling. Another person he can have.

 

"Wait- what?!," Leo gasps, eyes fill with stars as hands smack down on the table, "There's another one of us? Oh my god dude bro bro bro- did you and Draxum hide her from us? Not cool!" He crosses his arms, leaning back to look at his twin, who still looks... dazed. Untrusting. Confused.

 

"Where is she?" Donnie asks, voice neutral in a way that displays none of the emotions that must be swirling in his mind. His thumb is still playing with his fingerless gloves to keep the hands busy. He gets a very fast side eye from the slider for his tone of voice.

 

Mikey is overstimulated- what does he do? They're getting to exited and now he has to break their hearts in half and they're not letting him get a single damn word out. Hands coming up to his biceps to grip some harder. The room is quiet now, at least for a few seconds. All eyes are on him and for once in his life stage fright is setting in. He has the moment to talk, he really should. He has the opportunity to shut this down. He needs hurry up and just spit it out. What is he waiting for-

 

"She's dead," Mikey whispers, voice softening as he goes on. Another tear or so drips out of his eye and down his cheek. Oh he's dug himself a grave so deep and no amount of words could ever explaining how much he doesn't wanna lay in it.

 

Donnie reacts the least. He doesn't look surprised, but his expression hardens. He had either already guessed this, or doesn't have the mental space to process right now. At least he didn't get emotionally attached so fast to a concept of a person, like the others have.

 

The other two, more excited boys, had a similar reaction. Face drops, sadness and anger and some awful mix of both takes up their features.

 

"What... happened," Leo whispers.

 

Mikey starts explaining.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

Mikey handed the pasta bake plate to Draxum. The man took it to the kitchen to re-warm, plate and add his own side to. This had been their routine for a week or so, every other day the turtle would come over with a meal. The man would make either mashed potato's or a salad, depending on what the main dish was. He could see what looks like a delicious stir fry on a plate, and that only served to make him hungrier.

 

It would be a week before his brothers found out he was helping their maker get back on his feet.

 

He managed to set the goat up with an apartment in the same block as Aprils, get some basic furniture that Donnie had stored in the sewer that he collected but never uses. Some clothes and a nice place to hide. Gave the dude their streaming account logins and their excellent VPN that Donnie custom made. Some food and some money just for himself, because what's life without a little joy? (Donnie had a LOT of money from... sources. Michelangelo just so happens to have the debit code)

 

There was still a box that Draxum had packed up in the corner- just one left to unpack. Mikey had 10-15 minutes before dinner would be ready, with how meticulous that scientist was. All that fancy plating and making sure that everything was perfect and looked all proper. He thought it was how the man said thank you. Either way; he had a moment.  Why wouldn't he have kept busy and assist while he had the time?

 

He walked over to the box, it wasn't big, just a repurposed show box. But it was completely black, and had more of a sleeker design on it. Maybe a gift box, then.

 

The top lifted off and was placed aside as the boy saw the contents. A ceramic... something,  caught his eyes first: soft teal, little yellow stars had been painted all over it. A circular flat top, and rounded sides in a circle. It was about 3 inches tall. He pulled it out and gently held it in his hands, it didn't feel as cold as he thought it would be.

 

Further examination revealed that it was clearly not a vase or a jar or some sort, there's no opening. He had never seen something like this before, but it was pretty. Maybe a family heirloom or perhaps Draxum had a secret artistic side? It looked professional to a point, but there were minor mistakes that added a handmade feel to it. Either way it was certainly beautiful.

 

He placed it down gently to the side, taking a look at the rest of the box. There was some cloth under where the ceramic was, a small and circular toddler book and a little blanket toy combo.

 

He grabbed the book first, it was a circle with a small flat side where the binding was. Clearly meant for a toddler, and it was about planets. Simple words and easy sentences combined with a calming and warm color pallet. It was rather cute, and earned a small smile from his lips. No clue why he owned that, maybe from when he was going to raise the boys?

 

It got set next to that jar thing, and he picked up the toy next. It was a little piece of blanket, a soft and calm blue with silky edges. In the center of the blanket there was a small stuffed animal elephant head, eyes shut in a smile. Another item for very small babies and infants. Michelangelo picked it up with a hand pinching the fabric on each side of the face, tilting it around in a little dance. It brought a smile to his own lips before getting placed on the book.

 

He picked up the cloth at the bottom of the box and brushed off a little dust on the top with a light hand. Another teal color, but softer now. Whether that was by design or from age he had little clue. All of the stuff in there seemed pretty old, but in good condition. There was one stain on a corner, a lighter color than the rest. It was a very soft material, but he had no frame of reference for it. He kept it folded, but it was clear that it must have been another baby item.

 

Did Draxum keep all of this stuff from when the boys were babies? These must have been their things. Awww- he knew there was good in that old goat's soul!

 

Deciding that these aren't things he has the right to unpack, he put the blanket back just where he found it. The other items returned to their rightful spot as well.

 

He took one more look at it, all sorted and neat.

 

"What are you doing?" Came a voice from behind, and Mikey's head snapped around to look up at Draxum. Hands had come to his knees to stand, then drifting behind his back to rest. The alchemists face was sullen, but not angry. Just a tired sadness behind those eyes.

 

"I tried to help you unpack," he had answered, "I found the baby stuff, that was sweet. That you kept it from when he and my brothers were babies."

 

"Those weren't from you," He had gotten as an answer. The man strode past him slowly, looking down at the box. He crouched down and picked it with a reverence, keeping it closed. Walking back to the area under his TV and setting the box in one of the built in shelves.

 

His head had quirked, a confused expression on his face. That stuff WAS all blue... maybe that one was for Leo? Maybe all four of them had their own little boxes that their maker had used to remember them. Maybe the other three were somewhere in the house and the fourth would be joining them soon. There was no better way to find out then asking, "Whose it for, then?"

 

Draxum was silent, dropping down criss cross in front of the TV stand. A rough mutant hand had come up to gently run a thumb across the shoebox.

 

".....You were not the last creations I made," the creator had whispered, voice heavy. He had always had this rough, deep voice, but then it felt weighted down and dripping with regret and maybe sadness. "I made one more turtle warrior after. You were taken from me."

 

"Where are they?" Michelangelo had asked, mimicking the volume of the grieving man before him. He had so many questions, too many and not enough all at once.

 

"You saw the container in there, didn't you?" Draxum asked, not bothering to look back, "That's where her ashes are." He answered, sliding the top off the box once more and picking up the urn. He had held it with such kindness, it was hard to think that those hands have ever caused any violence.

 

That caused the turtle gasp softly eyes going wide and body going stiff. He too looked down at his own two hands- realizing what they touched. How sacred that object was and how much it must mean. All of those baby objects flashing through his mind suddenly mean more than being cute and cohesive.

 

They- had a sister? Or they were supposed to have one.

 

"What happened?" He asked, voice rougher than he thought it would be. He wasn't exactly going to cry, but there was certainly an itch in his throat.

 

"I... it was my own fault," Draxum admits, "I tried to make another turtle warrior, one better in every way. Went too far with her DNA. Messed with more than I should ever have." His voice was a shameful whisper, pain settled in his throat as he talks. The urn in his hand getting a thumb run gently across it now. "She lived for 3 weeks, and she would have been 12 now."

 

Mikey was instantly sliding forward, putting a hand on the man's back in comfort. So they were supposed to have a sister, a younger one.

 

He tried to imagine what their life would have been like had there been a fifth. Rapheal could have taught her how to skateboard or fight. Donatello might have taught her random facts or played video games with her. Leonardo may have made her into just as big of a nerd as he is.

 

She could have been at family movie night, or dinners. She could have participated in food fights or wrestling matches over simple arguments. She could have been running around on patrol and getting into shenanigans with her brothers. She could have decorated her bedroom at the lair, or stylized her protective gear.

 

But who knows if she would have even liked any of those things. After all, she never had the chance to develop a personality.

 

"Did she have a name?" He asked.

 

"Venus"

 

-------------------------------------------

 

"So- yea. That's what I know," by the time he's done explaining, there are tear streaks down his face that have dripped onto hands. It feels so weird to have to describe the heartfelt items that are all is left of Venus. Afterwards, he had been asked to keep it a secret so Draxum could tell them on his own time. Now he's taken the moment from a grieving father.

 

It's Rapheal whose reaction irks him the most. Teary eyes and a guilt face. He is instantly hugging Mikey from the side, chin to the top of the head of his younger brother. He pulls back slightly for a moment, placing a kiss where his chin rests. The hug continues after that.

 

Leo moves a hand to grab Michelangelo's, from the other side. The box turtle feels more supported than trapped like he did just a few minutes ago. Donatello has his eyes shut with a hand over his mask, thinking.

 

"It makes sense," their purplest brother starts, "That he would try again after we were stolen." His voice is more analytic then emotional, but there's no doubt that this will haunt from for days to come. It will haunt them all for days to come, maybe weeks.

 

"Is there a grave we can visit?" Raphael asks from above his brother's head. They've never visited a grave before, never needed to. The mental image of any of his family paying respects at a grave sounds absolutely horrific, but in this context maybe it wouldn't be the worst.

 

"I don't think so," he answers, "Just the urn, I think."

 

"We should have gotten to meet her," Leonardo says, squeezing his hand gently. Running a thumb over the smaller hand in his own gentler than he had in years.

 

"Yea, we should have," Raphael jumps in, a gently pulling his body off of Michelangelo with a final forehead kiss and squeeze. He drifts back to his own space but keeps a hand on him, right below the elbow pad's straps.

 

"Why didn't he tell us?" Donnie asks, finally speaking up from where he's sitting on the other side of Leo. Whenever situations get serious he always gets this sullen and serious look on his face with little to no expression. "He's been in our life for about a month now, he sent me those reports- why not just tell us?"

 

"I don't know," the youngest replies, "I think he meant to? He mentioned telling you guys soon after you met him at that dinner. He must have forgotten." He tried to think back and Draxum did mention telling them eventually. It's not like he brings it up all the time, but sometimes he likes to approach the topic. It was his little sister after all, even if he never met her.

 

It's still weird to think about having a little sister, because he's always been the youngest. How different would his personality be if he wasn't the baby of the family? How much would everyone be changed in a world where she was with them. Would Leo be a bit more responsible, or maybe Raphael would be even more stressed out with more people to keep an eye on? Would dad be even more checked out, or maybe Donnie would be more involved with the lives of his siblings instead of in his lab.

 

"Should we tell him that we know? It feels wrong to not let him know. What if he wants to explain himself?" Raph asks, snapping the youngest out of his thoughts.

 

"Should we tell Pops?" Leo interrupts, making everyone take a collective pause. "Was it... even Pops child?"

 

"Why wouldn't it be dad's kid?!" Raph shoots back, crossing his arms and glaring across the box turtle to give the offending brother an aggressive stare.

 

"Leo has a point," Donnie answers, "We don't know if this kid was made using his DNA because it was after we were taken. As far as we know he has no relation biologically to the kid, nor does he have any emotional attachment from raising him." He rambles, and then his eyes go wide when he realizes how that could be taken. "Unless- Mikey do we know if he was made with dad's DNA?"

 

"No clue. He never said anything about that," He answered honestly.

 

"But it's our sister, that must make her his daughter by proxy, right?" Raph argues, arm uncrossing to come rest palms on his knees. His voice isn't unkind, but it's slightly more agitated. He's always been the most enthusiastic about the concept of family so maybe he wants her recognized? Mikey can't really put a finger on what exactly his eldest brother's thought process is right now.

 

"Can't we just let Draxum have his daughter without getting Pops involved?" Michelangelo asks, "I love dad, but this wasn't his daughter. he didn't like... mourn her or know her like he knows us."

 

"How can she be our sister and not be his daughter," The eldest asks once again. Arms are crossed over his chest. His left eye is twitching by now, a finger tapping over his arm. He's getting fidgety by now, changing positions often.

 

"We don't even know if she WAS our sister, at least biologically," the science dude answers, "We're only technically half siblings. If she didn't have any of Dad's DNA, then our only connection to her is the fact that she was also Draxum's creation." His voice didn't have the usual joyous tone it does when he rants, it's more serious. He didn't even use this level or care earlier during the PowerPoint. Is he dissociating?

 

Raphael does not look satisfied- but he seems to give in. A hand drags down his face with a sigh, then elbows and forearms onto the table. He looks like a tired student trying to sleep at a desk with how his head is down. The plates are all in a little pile in the center of the table now, and while Mikey doesn't know when that happened, he assumes it was when he was zoned out during the story.

 

"That doesn't answer the question," Leo brings to attention. "Do we tell dad or not?" One of his hands is coming over to his twin, rubbing a hand over his hoodies arm. That usually helps when he's dissociated, and there are no signs upon contact that touch is a no-no right no.

 

Leonardo turns to his other side, right where the youngest is. Making eye contact in an attempt to lure out a response that the box turtle doesn't have.

 

"Maybe.... let Drax do it?" His voice comes out higher and more unsure than it was meant to. That's the best case scenario for him personally, not having to deal with it. That would mean telling the goat that his darkest secret has been spilled, but it's unavoidable if he doesn't wanna be an asshole for not telling him. "I'll call him and tell him that we know."

 

"That's for the best," the slider responds, a thumb still rubbing up and down Don's arm.

 

"Do you think that there are any photos of Venus?" Comes Raphael's voice from the table. He lifts his head up and lays his chin over the forearm.

 

"I don't know. I didn't see any in the box." Mikey responds with a shrug. He's been told that she's some sorta black-back type of turtle with light skin and some sorta design on their shells. He googled a few photos after finding out about her, and they're a really pretty type of turtle. She must have had the cutest little shell patterns, especially if Drax gave her aesthetic patterns on it.

 

"I don't know why he would keep her stuff in a box for that long," The eldest says. Michelangelo had thought about that too. Who keeps their dead infants stuff in a small box? He's not trying to imply that Venus wasn't loved, though. It's just weird.

 

"Was it a normal box, or did it look kinda pretty?" Nardo asks, now having gotten Donnie's arm in front of him to gently message. He's always been good at messages after learning on a hyper-fixation.

 

Mikey has to tilt his head back and think, but comes to the conclusion that it did look sorta weird. It was all sleek and black and felt sorta silky. "It looked sorta like a gift box, yea."

 

"Might'a been a 'Memory box'. It's where they put all of the stuff of a dead baby. Apparently it's because you can take it out whenever but don't have it out as a constant reminder." He rattles off, still mindlessly playing with the scales of his brother in circles.

 

"How do ya know that?" Raph asks, and his voice carries an inappropriate giggle on the tip of his words. It's probably just a stress laugh, but also his brothers always have the most random of information.

 

"I fell down a rabbit hole of genetic conditions last night," Leo answers.

 

"Makes sense," Donnie replies, gently retracting his arm from Leo's messages, "The box, I mean. I know it's not the same but I keep Sheldon's stuff out so I don't have to see it."

 

They are once again silent, looking at each other. Mikey is left to think about Draxum. How he has to call him and tell him later.

 

They've never really talked about how he felt after. How did he feel after accidentally killing his own daughter?

 

He doesn't know how he would feel if he caused the death of his brother or father, other than devastated. Being the reason your own daughter didn't make it....

 

That must have eaten him alive.

 

---------------------------------------------

 

 

 

Notes:

The next part of the series comes next week. You'll get to meet Venus, if you stick around.

Notes:

This AU has been in my head for 6 months. I cave. I'll explore a bit more later, but it was supposed to be a bit more dramatic earlier on in the process. Especially Donnie lmao, he was supposed to be a FREAK OF NATURE (can you tell I have a favorite turtle?)

Also- mentions of Williams syndrome. I am no expert and was simply using what little knowlage I had to attempt to explain some of the DNA coding. Although them being significantly disabled in every area except for socialization is a real fact.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Ingrained Into Soul (Ingrained AU)