The Experiments
Chapter 1
***AUTHOR'S NOTE*** If this idea has been used before, I apologize, I don't mean to plagerize, but the plot bunny has been torturing me for ages! Remember, Reviews are Love!
I pull the black mask further over my face, adjusting the fabric so that I can see and breathe easily.
The head of my unit, in full stealth gear, walks in front of the team, describing our mission.
I look down through the skylight of the museum, my teammates arrayed around me. Gesturing with black-gloved fingers, I direct them to their positions around the skylight and, in one synchronized movement, break the glass.
"Our objective is this," the leader says, pointing to a picture on the wall of our dojo. It is a Japanese sword with the twining figure of a cat curving around the handle, ending in a cat's head at the bottom of the hilt. My eyes widen as I take in the sword. It's a thing of beauty, a weapon and a work of art at the same time.
I silently approach the sword case, following my leader. He cuts a circle from the glass using a device hidden in his glove and is about to remove the sword when a shuriken lands in the wood bordering the case with a threatening thud. I hurriedly take a step away from the case, leaving the sword behind.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a male voice with a New York accent speaks up from the shadows behind me.
"Yeah, the gift shop is on the first floor," another person says.
"And they don't take kindly to shop lifters," interjects a third. How many of these guys are there? My leader snaps (not an easy thing to do while wearing gloves) and the rest of the team emerges from the shadows.
Peering into the shadows, I'm able to make out four bulky forms; they must be wearing some kind of body armor. I drop back as the team falls into a fighting stance, activating a device in my suit.
The unit I'm in has been chosen to test a cloaking prototype; time to test it. Glancing down, I'm startled to see that my body has been reduced to a slight disturbance in the air, like the heat off of the road in the summer. Suppressing a shudder, I turn my attention back to the enemy and find myself doing a great impression of a fish under my mask.
My body armor theory is shot to heck; our opponents are four giant humanoid turtles wearing belts, knee and elbow pads, and different colored masks that cover their eyes.
I draw my ninjato at the same time as the rest of my team as the turtle with an orange mask and nunchucks steps forward. He somehow manages to look confused.
"Where'd they go," he asks, looking around for us.
"They just, vanished," the bo-staff-wielding turtle says, blinking his eyes under his purple mask.
"Stay alert," cautions the blue-masked turtle, drawing his twin katanas. "Just because we can't see them doesn't mean they aren't here." I can barely make out the signal given by the leader to surround the turtles.
We form a circle around the creatures. Suddenly the one in the red mask wielding a pair of Sais stiffens and glances around as if he heard something. At another sign from our leader, we attack. The turtles are taken by surprise, but soon catch on and begin to fight back.
Throughout the battle the orange one doesn't stop talking, constantly spouting quips and jokes. The blue one gives orders, confirming my suspicion that he is the leader of this motley group, and the purple terrapin shows his worth when he catches one of my companions in the chest, smashing the controls of his stealth tech.
As he fizzles into visibility, the Bo wielding turtle shouts, "Guys! The technology congregates in the upper segment of the torso!"
"English, Donny," the red-masked turtle says as he fights off two ninjas at once.
"Hit them in the chest," the purple turtle replies with a long-suffering sigh. He must be the smart one.
"Oh," the orange one says in understanding before using his nunchucks to take out four ninjas. With that information, the amphibious fighters soon defeat most of my unit; only the leader, I, and four others remain in our stealth mode.
As the rest of the unit gets shakily to their feet, the leader gives the sign to retreat. I take one last longing look at the sword we're leaving behind before following my team out of the museum and back to base.
XXXXXXX
I stand in line with the rest of the unit outside of Master Shredder's quarters; he is waiting to punish us for our failure himself. The doors open and instead of Shredder, however, it is his pet scientist, Dr. Baxter, who walks out holding a clipboard.
The brown-haired man barely glances at us before reviewing his clipboard and saying, "Yes, I need ninjas 20-1, 23-8, 25-3, 27-6, and 29-7 to come with me. As for the rest of you… good luck. You're going to need it."
I and four others step out of line and follow the man in a lab coat as the rest of the unit flows into the Master's room. Unless the master has learned to accept failure, we will not see them again.
The doctor leads us to what looks like a laboratory. Five metal tables with complex machines at one end spread out from a central hub of computers. Five tubes, either a murky green themselves or filled with green ooze line one wall. Ignoring the room, Baxter leads us to an empty room off to the side.
"Take off your masks and weapons," he instructs us. "Someone will brief you on the details shortly." He leaves us to ourselves.
I look at the other ninjas. The first one to take off their mask is a girl, about my age, 16, but a few inches shorter with shoulder length brown hair. Her eyes throw me off; they are a crimson red.
"Hey," she says excitedly, somehow seeming much younger. "Do any of you guys know what's going on?"
"I suspect that they wish to do some tests to improve our skills," another ninja, this one slightly taller than the brown-haired one states as she pulls off her mask, revealing long blonde hair and intelligent blue eyes.
"If they want to improve our fighting skills, I'm all for it," the third ninja says, removing her hood. She shakes her long red hair free as she looks us all over with strange purple eyes. "I have a score to settle with those freaks from earlier," she continues, an evil smile finding its way onto her features.
"As do I," the fourth ninja says, taking off her mask. She pulls a scrunchie out of her pocket and pulls her long brown hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her serious hazel eyes.
All the girls look at me, and I realize that I'm the only one still masked. I hurriedly yank off my own mask, shaking out my long black hair and blinking my green eyes at them. "I don't know what they're going to do with us," I admit. "But we would do best to follow orders."
I reluctantly shed my ninjato, my favorite weapon, and put it in the middle of the room. "I will miss my ninjato, though," I say sadly.
"And I my shaken," the blue-eyed girl states, adding a black leather pouch to the weapons pile. It comes open and a single four-bladed throwing star falls onto the floor.
"I don't know what I'll do without my kusarigama," the red-eyed brunette sobs before adding her two weapons to the pile. *** (AUTHOR'S NOTE! Kusarigama are like small sickles on the end of long chains with iron weights on the other end. Think nunchucks, but with curved blades and separated into two weapons.)***
"Bah, I can still kick butt, with or without my tambos," the girl with purple-eyes says gruffly, tossing the two eighteen-inch wooden posts onto the pile carelessly. She tries to hide it, but I see the sorrow in her eyes as she glances at the weapons.
"I am reluctant to give up my tessen as well," the blue-eyed ninja adds quietly as she respectfully places the two battle fans on the floor. We're all standing there, staring sadly at our weapons, when a younger man in a lab coat walks in.
"Are you prepared," he asks, looking at us with no emotion at all. I step forward.
"We do not know what we are to be prepared for, but we have followed Dr. Baxter's instructions," I say politely, gesturing to the masks and weapons on the floor. The aide nods, and, telling us to follow him, leads us back into the lab.
After instructing each of us to lay down on a table with our heads near the machines, he joins several others at the computers in the middle of the room. The girl with red eyes is farthest to my right, followed by the girl who wielded the tambos. To my immediate right lies the smart girl with blue eyes, and further on the one who had the shaken stares at the ceiling.
A bad feeling begins to form at the back of my neck when two aides approach my table, and it drops to my stomach when they strap me to the table by my legs, arms, and stomach.
"Is this really necessary," I ask, eyeing the others as they are bound in the same way. "Yes," is the only answer I get from the emotionless scientists before they return to their computers. Dr. Baxter walks into the room and adjusts his glasses. Pulling a remote from his pocket, he presses a button. The tables tilt forward until we are nearly vertical facing the center of the room.
"Is everything ready," the doctor asks the aides.
"Yes, Dr. Baxter," the reply as one, turning and bowing to him.
I catch a glimpse of one of the computer screens and feel the suspicion drop from my stomach to the soles of my feet and through the floor as I see an image of two strings of DNA, side by side, merging into one strand.
"Remember people, these are only the prototypes," Dr. Baxter says as he takes his place in front of me. I look into his eyes, and get a chill as I realize he doesn't see me as a girl or even a ninja; he sees me as a test subject.
That's when I try to escape.
Too late I begin to pull at the straps holding me down as two teams of scientists, beginning at the ends of the short row, inject something into the other's arms, causing them to go limp. When they get to me, I stop struggling and look into Dr. Baxter's eyes.
"Please," I say desperately, feeling tears form in my eyes. He stares back coldly as I feel the prick of the needle into my arm. My muscles relax, and as the darkness closes in, I hear the doctor say, "Put them in the tubes, and then activate the felis catus domestica DNA merging sequence."
That doesn't sound good; I think before the blackness swamps me and carries me into sleep.
What'cha think? Not bad for a first attempt! Now review, or I will send the rabid plot bunnies after you instead! Mwhahahaha! Oh, and I don't own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or anything else you recognize. Phooey. Oh well, REVIEW! ^_^