I used to be strong.

Feels funny saying that. I mean, I'm still strong. Physically anyway. Guess they broke me in some other way… Mentally, maybe? Psychologically, probably. Emotionally, definitely.

Damn…

It used to be easy, too. Easy to keep going, to fight back, to survive. Fuck me, what a joke that was. We used to think we were strong, us and our team. Like it was some kind of force that was completely indestructible; nobody and nothin' could break us when we stood back to back. That's what we used to tell each other, anyway. Guess we were wrong.

Thing is… Crap, what's that saying? 'You never know what you've got 'till it's gone.' Yeah, that. That's what happened to me. I know, I know, I'm ramblin' and it ain't making sense. Well, thing is, I didn't like our team—like I said, we were pretty damn good and there weren't no challenge in it. Where's the fun in a fight you know you're gonna win? It's like playin' one of Mike's video games; sure, you might not get three or four lives, but you didn't need 'em cuz the game always starts on beginner mode and fuck is that easy. Who wants to play their life like a video game? Not me.

So I left. No, I didn't go far, and no, I didn't leave home. Don't go getting' your damn knickers in a twist. It weren't like that; I didn't mean for it to end up like… like this. Fuck, I'm used to going out alone. It weren't nothin' knew. But when I left that night—I think it was the fifteenth? I could be wrong—something wasn't right. It's one of them gut intuitions you get. I put it down to bad pizza and left anyway. I wanted to find that challenge in the fight, something where there was that chance, that slim, slim, slim, chance that I could lose.

Tch. Donny'd probably snort at that, spinning some crap about probability and how even if it's some kind of bat-shit crazy odds it can still always happen.

Anyway, this fight, well, if you ain't guessed it by now, I can tell ya it didn't end well. For me at least. I found that challenge I was lookin' for. Thing is, I wasn't ready for it. I was too slow; too open; too tense. I ducked too low; took too long bouncing back; stumbled too far; cut too shallow… I'll never make that mistake again.

Leo used to warn me about this.

Don't go out alone, Raph.

Raph, slow down—Raph! For crying out… Raphael! Slow down! Donnie can't—

Raph, hold back.

Raph, for once will you just listen! Will it kill you?

Raph!

God, I hate myself sometimes. And it weren't just Leo who'd tell me neither. Master Splinter, Donnie, hell, even Mikey came by my room once and asked me to hold back my punches in training. It ain't like I meant to hurt 'em, but sparring is… well, it's rough. It ain't fucking ballet. So I'd shrug 'em all off, and they'd leave me to it. Most of 'em, anyway. Leo kept pushing, like Leo does, and I'd give him as good as he gave me.

But… well, Leo isn't here now. And neither's Donny. Or Mikey… Not even Master Splinter. I'm starting to forget what Casey and April looked like, and the others…

Fuck. You know, when it's quiet enough, I feel like I can still hear 'em while I'm sat here in this cell. The bastards that took me don't fight like I'm used to; they don't bite back. Instead they reach for the bat and the whip, they shorten food rations, wake us up at early hours to march us down to the quarry and make us shuffle and move stones. They don't fight clean. I'll do something dumb and the cowering guy six steps down our tethered line takes the brunt for it. Out here, wherever the heck here is, fighting's different, and I don't know if I can fight in this world, let alone win.

I mean, I've been here three, maybe four years? I'm not so sure. Like I said, I got moved to this crappy quarry place when I lost that damn fight and I can't get to grips with much since. There are a few rules, stuff you pick up as you go if you wanna survive. Think I can number 'em:

Take what you're given and shut up. Whether that's food or a beating, just take it. It's over with faster that way.

Don't do stupid stuff. i.e. escape. It ain't good. You're chained at the ankle and wrist, you've gotta climb outta the quarry, you've gotta get out of wherever the hell this is, and then you've gotta escape. Dogs, guards, guns, watchtowers, sirens—I've heard the sounds. Don't hear much about the people that try to get out though, not after the Warden's through with 'em.

And that's another thing. Stay on the right side of that guy. He's an ugly grey bastard who stands under the only lamp in this shitty area, so you can't exactly miss him, but still, stay away. 'Less you wanna lose some body parts, that is.

Do your work quietly and don't try carryin' people. You do that and the whole damn lot's gonna try for a fuckin' piggy back. And there's only so much one turtle can do. So… yeah. Don't be a hero.

If a buyer comes, like, every once in a blue moon, don't put yourself at the front of the line. I mean, yeah, this place is bad, pretty frickin' bad, but who knows what the rest of this place is like. Do I wanna go with some stranger with gold teeth and a crocodile skin suitcase? Do I fuck. Go pick some other sucker for your freakshow.

I always thought mankind was built on cowards, especially since I lived in New York; the greatest city on Earth where the average shmuck was expected to be mugged or worse at least three times in their lifetime. Not exactly a good statistic for humanity. But then I came here, met my own race, and my blood chilled. Wish I could say I expected more, but deep down inside, I don't think I did. I don't think I could. After two months I realised what they were trying to do to me, what they have done to me and are doing to me…

They're trying to polish me. Like I'm some kinda piece of marble, they want to smooth out the rough edges and nicks that are what make me who I am…or should that be who I was? God I'm tired. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let them blow out my last flame.

They're moving me now. Three years in the mining quadrant and they're finally moving me. I think it's because I finally snapped and did something reckless. I won't go into it, let's just say I disrupted business and the East Mines aren't going to be meeting their quota for a long time. Heh.

I don't know where I'm going, and to be honest, I don't care. Wherever they're taking me, it can't be worse than where I was…can it? I mean, I wasn't bought by no buyer, I'm just being moved… right?

Damn… I miss home.

I hope you enjoyed the prologue!