A/N: Another plot bunny that took form for whatever reason and started nibbling at my brain. No matter how many times I tried to shoo it away, it always came back saying, "Write me! Write me!" So, I worked it out and viola! New story. Hope you all enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, zero, zilch, nada. They all belong to Eastman and Laird. *sigh* Oh, well. A girl can dream. There's a couple of OCs near the end that I can claim, but that's about it.
Air passed over parched lips. Hearts hammered against sore ribs. Heavy footsteps pounded over concrete flooring, making the halls echo. Two forms hid in the shadows only to be illuminated every couple of seconds by a red flashing light. One form was a turtle, male, with dark green skin and amber eyes. The second form was a salamander, female, with long dark brown hair and brown eyes. They were both covered with deep lacerations that were only just starting to heal. The turtle held the salamander in his arms as she cried into his chest.
They were so close...they couldn't get caught now; not with freedom at arm's length. However, they were stuck. The halls had been rearranged, the exit hidden once again. Escape attempts were common, yet were rarely accomplished. It was because of the walls. They moved, shifted; making new passageways and turning the jail breakers around, leading them right back into the waiting grasp of their captors.
"We're never getting out, Dark," the girl whimpered.
The turtle shushed her. "We're getting out, Mona," he whispered. "I swear on my life, I'm getting you out of this hell hole."
Mona's breath hitched in her throat and she choked on a sob. "We've been running for days," she told him. "They'll kill us before they let us escape."
Dark peeked around the corner, his eyes searching the semi-darkness for any signs of life. There wasn't a sound. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. The only sound came from Mona's quiet sobbing. Dark tried to coax her to move, but Mona stood still.
"Mona, come on," Dark whispered. "If we want to make it out, we've got to move now."
"They'll find us," Mona said. "They always find us. Then they'll lock us in the Pit."
Biting back a growl of annoyance, Dark picked Mona up bridal style and dashed around the corner. His bare feet slapped against the cold concrete. He searched the hallway for an exit. Another hallway, a door...anything. Dark was so absorbed in trying to find a way out that he wasn't paying attention to the floor. The instant his foot came down, a sharp pain shot up his leg as razor sharp teeth sank into his ankle.
Dark screamed in pain and collapsed to the floor. Mona tumbled out of his arms and rolled to a stop a couple of feet away. She pushed herself up just as lights shot on throughout the hallway. Blinding white light revealed the damage. A bear trap had sprung out of the floor when Dark had triggered it when he stepped on the pressure point. Dark crimson stained the pure white floor. Mona crawled over to her friend and put her hands on his shoulders. He was shaking uncontrollably. He was going into shock.
"Dark? Dark, speak to me," Mona begged. "Dark!"
At that moment, the walls shifted to make a new passageway. Only this one revealed a group of soldiers dressed in black body armor. Mona shook her head, knowing what was about to happen.
"No," she breathed as the soldiers started towards her and Dark. Two of them grabbed her and began pulling her away, leaving Dark bleeding on the floor. "No, please! Dark! Dark!" Mona screamed.
Amber eyes shot open, wide with fright. Heavy breathing broke the silence of the room. Eyes searched the darkness, wondering about the location. Posters of rock bands and martial arts champions adorned the walls. A bedroom. There was a creak somewhere in the darkness and it was pierced by a dim light. He shot up in bed, ready to fight if need be. In the doorway stood a purple masked turtle. He was holding a tray of food.
"Morning," the turtle greeted cautiously. "I brought you some breakfast. Do you know who I am?"
"Don...atello?" came the reply.
The turtle smiled and nodded. "Do you know who you are?" he asked.
"Dark."
Donatello looked downtrodden. "We'll get there," he muttered under his breath sadly.
He walked over to the bed and placed the tray on the mattress. There was a bowl of cereal, an orange and a glass of milk. Donatello seemed to be a little apologetic.
"Sorry it isn't much. But, you were severely malnourished when we found you. You have to eat gradually so that your stomach can readjust to food," he explained.
Dark glanced from Donatello to the food tray. It was the same routine, every morning. Although, the orange was something new. Last week it was only the cereal and milk, and even then the entire works had ended up in the toilet.
"Do you want me to stay?" Donatello asked, as he did every morning.
Dark shook his head. Donatello sighed sadly as he moved towards the door. Dark picked up the cereal bowl and spoon. He scooped up a bit of the frosted flakes and popped it into his mouth. He enjoyed the sweetness of the flakes. It was something the Pit lacked. Then again, there were a lot of things the Pit lacked. Dark ate the cereal as slowly as he could, remembering Donatello telling him that the reason he got sick was because he was eating too fast.
Have to give your stomach time to readjust to food, Dark told himself.
So, just how long had he been a prisoner in that compound? He reached over and pushed back the blankets, revealing his right ankle. Nasty, deformed scars ran around his ankle where the bear trap had grabbed him. By the way the scars looked, Dark guessed he must have been free for about a month or two. But, that still didn't answer his question. He would have asked the others, the ones who found him, but they all thought he was someone else. Their brother who had been missing for almost a year. Donatello tried to help him "remember", but the only thing Dark could remember was the compound. He had been born and raised in that place. He knew nothing else besides the cages and the maze.
I'm Dark, Dark thought. He reached back and touched the tattoo of his name on the back of his neck. How can I be anyone different?
Reviews are welcome, flames are not