Inhale, exhale, pause, inhale.
The only sound in the room was Michelangelo's ragged breathing. His eyes scouring every corner, looking for any hint of movement, he saw nothing but pitch black. As he concentrated on his breath he closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy slumber.
Darkness seeped down the wall, pooling in the shadows. He filled the room and void replaced every hint of light. He then took form.
Michelangelo tossed in his sleep, his mind plagued by a terrible nightmare, a masterpiece of crisis and suffering if Darkness was to speak candidly about his own work. Darkness, now, sat on the nightstand beside the sleeping turtle's bed, a smirk on his face, while he watched the young turtle writhe beneath him. The youngest turtle of the Hamato clan was the most challenging to infuse. Mikey was suffused with light, but in the depths of nightmares not even the turtle's sunny demeanor could protect him.
Pouring a little more of himself into the turtle, Darkness grinned and waited for the reaction. It did not take long before the orange-clad victim let out an involuntary yelp as the nightmare took a turn for the worse. Darkness closed his eyes to experience the dream in tandem.
Michelangelo's brothers lay at his feet, their eyes unseeing. Their youngest brother collapsed weeping beside them. The young turtle's hands were thoroughly coated in the blood of his brethren. Darkness rolled his shoulders in delight at the image. Michelangelo's body wracked with sobs silently praying for his brothers to waken. The blood that had saturated the ground around his brother bodies began to ripple and shift. It surged closer to the young turtle, pooling around him, soaking his calves and knees. Rivulets of blood snaked up Michelangelo's legs slowly making its way up his body. His eyes became wide with fear. Frantically he wiped at the blood like a swarm of stinging insects; the crimson liquid coursed up his body and crawled into his mouth. He coughed and sputtered in his sleep, convinced he was drowning in his brother's blood. Darkness tore himself away from the image, panting as pleasure rolled through him.
Darkness bit his lip in delight as he thought of the elder brothers.
At times, Raphael seemed to live in the darkness, his anger consuming him into a white hot rage. In those moments Darkness could feel himself oozing out of Raphael's pores, dripping from his mouth as Raph uttered half-truths with words he did not mean. Darkness cherished those times. The red-clad turtle was Darkness's favourite - there was no doubt about that, he was the only turtle to give himself over to Darkness body and soul. Having the turtle surrender so completely to him was indescribably pleasurable. The only time Raph relinquished control was when one of his brothers was seriously injured. Unimportant little things like 'mercy' and 'restraint' faded into the background with such a simple excuse as revenge. The turtle became an unstoppable force of darkness, a flesh and blood vehicle driven and subsumed by revenge alone. Even Darkness pitied those who harmed the hothead's brothers. The memory of the damage Raphael could cause sent surges of pleasure up Darkness's spine. He stretched his arms above his head, inhaled deeply and let out a deep moan of contentment.
He furrowed his brow as he lowered his arms; his control was fading. Slowly the red-clad turtle was slipping from his grasp. Raphael was fighting back, and Darkness was not pleased. Master Splinter was teaching his son how to control the darkness, bend it to his will. Darkness didn't enjoy bending. Even Leonardo, who used to cause some of the rages, was now helping calm his red-clad brother. The two eldest turtles were beginning to finding understanding within each other as well as their brotherhood. Darkness knew he would always be a part of Raphael, but who held the reins was a different story.
'Leonardo' he thought and hummed with pleasure.
The eldest brother's darkness rarely surfaced but when it did, Darkness reveled in it. Leo's darkness came in many forms; in training, pushing himself to excel, as he slowly pushed away from his family. In battle his katanas could end a life and then he would justify it, saying it was the only way save his brothers. However Darkness knew the truth. Every time Leo took a life, it got easier, every time it happened Leo enjoyed himself a little more. Not wanting to burden his family Leonardo kept his darkness buried deep within himself, the perfect place for Darkness to feed and grow. Fearless' nickname was becoming less appropriate as he was beginning to fear himself.
Darkness scowled down at the figure before him. It was Michelangelo's fault. Had it not been for his light-filled brother, Leo would have fallen prey to Darkness's will long ago. The young turtle bouncing up to his elder brother, making him laugh, and his admiration of him, kept his darkness at bay. Darkness knew it wouldn't last. The youngest turtle couldn't keep him away forever. Leo knew this too. He was the closest to conquering his darkness. Although the blue-clad turtle struggled with revealing his flaws to his family, he slowly had begun to speak with them about it. The leader had yet to divulge the darkest parts of himself, still too ashamed to do so. Darkness grumbled and crossed his legs on the nightstand, placing his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. If anything Leo talking about his darkness was getting more frequent. Every time he spoke Darkness felt himself fade. Leo had the same capacity for peace and light as Michelangelo, a fact that made Darkness nauseous.
Donatello, now he had a unique darkness. Much like Raphael, darkness loomed in Don's temper, but the genius's outbursts were exceedingly rare. Being the most level-headed of the brothers made him difficult to infuse. Unlike his elder brothers Darkness could not directly affect him. Darkness grinned; he could however lurk within him. Darkness pulled his knees to his chest and rolled his head. He rubbed his arms fondly as he recalled times when Donatello's thoughts went too far. The purple-clad turtle's creations were no longer a means to help his family but to annihilate their enemies. The weapons the brothers used to protect themselves were far different than the weapons Don could create in his lab. Darkness frowned, could create. His thoughts turned to the times the level-headed turtle would scrap his plans before they came to fruition. Abandoning projects part-way through, as he realized of what his creations was truly capable. While Donatello was very self-aware of his darkness, he could not defeat all of it.
Darkness inhaled deeply. A different kind of darkness lingered in Donatello, a sadness. The feeling of being an outcast often plagued the genius's mind. While all four brothers found comfort in the way of Ninjutsu, Donatello was finding solace in the pursuit of knowledge. The feeling haunted him as he realized he would never present his creations to the world, share his gift. In this sadness, as in all forms of doubt, Darkness was ever present. He grumbled to himself, he did not enjoy devastating someone through sorrow, it was low and cowardly. The cause of Donatello's problems was also the solution; his brothers coming into the lab, usually to vent about one another but more often they simply sought his company. The brothers would never know how much simply conversing with him was helping. Donatello's heart filled with joy as his brothers tried earnestly to aid with his inventions. Of course not all of Don's interactions with his brother were in the lab, more than once Raphael literally dragged his purple-clad brother outside. Michelangelo's never ending jokes and pranks were a welcome distraction to the more monotonous aspects of lab work. The purple-clad turtle would never tell him this, he was far too proud. Leonardo always offered him a listening ear no matter the topic of conversation. In a way, Donatello was exactly like his brothers, only family could pull him out of the dark.
Darkness leaned back sighing through his nose, it was almost time, she would be here soon. He sneered at the thought of her. Looking back towards Michelangelo; he ran his claws across the boy's forehead and was rewarded with a fierce shudder. He would have to decide soon.
Darkness felt a presence awaken. He closed his eyes feeling the life force. Splinter, the turtles' master, he could hear him quietly in the kitchen getting a drink of water. Darkness sighed happily as he whirled around Splinter's heart. The master's darkness lay in his past; his family dying at the hands of his enemy, and the vendetta that followed. While many claimed Splinter was innocent, Darkness knew the truth. If he had been more understanding to his former friend, darkness would have not consumed the Shredder. Darkness swayed slightly back and forth to an unheard melody, as he thought of the dark soul. The Foot clan was truly an army of darkness, built only for dark purposes. Splinter and his army, though smaller, battle the darkness within themselves, as much as the darkness of the Foot. The Shredder knew he was pure darkness and accepted it. Splinter still fought, his body growing weaker with age but his spirit staying strong. Through mediation he accepted his darkness, using it when necessary. Darkness could still occasionally get to the Master, seeping in through memory, grief and guilt but never for long. The joy Splinter felt from his sons would chase the darkness away. Darkness knew he would never claim the old rat.
Darkness had no regrets when it came to what happened to Shredder, to be able ingest a body and soul was extremely invigorating, but unsatisfactory. What was truly satisfying was someone battling with Darkness for years, before finally giving up. Addicts, worshipers, heroes, warriors, parents, lovers, children, anyone could be consumed by him. Darkness purred at the thought of having one of the turtles as his own. He had never had a mutant turtle truly succumb to him. He grimaced. The way the brothers protected one another, he would never know the feeling. Lying bent over backwards on the nightstand, Darkness swung his feet soundlessly through the air, nose to nose with Michelangelo. He stared intently at his young victim from a different angle.
Sweat trickled down Michelangelo's face as he grunted in fear, pulling the blankets to his chest as he shivered. Reaching forward Darkness tightened his grip on the turtle's heart and watched him convulse with pain. Adding just a bit more pressure, he was filled with pleasure as Mikey silently screamed, his face contorted with pain and anguish. In that moment she arrived.
He glowered at her sitting on the edge of the bed opposite him. She simply gazed back tucking her legs underneath her and smoothing out her skirt. Spinning upright on the nightstand, he narrowed his eyes in warning, uttered a small growl, guarding the turtle jealously. She cocked her head to the side, long white hair falling over her shoulder, as she raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth in a mock surprise. He bared his fangs and snarled. She raised her hands to either side of her face and shook her head with an exasperated sigh, making no move to return his aggression. She would not fight Darkness; violence was a part of him, not her. He looked at her curiously, raising an eyebrow and narrowing his mouth. If she wasn't going to fight, what was she going to do? She looked down fondly at the sleeping turtle, leaning forward to grasp the mutant's hand. He uttered a small hiss to get her attention; Darkness shook his head violently, gesturing at her hand hovering above the turtle. She did not withdraw her hand. She frowned slightly; determination was something they shared equally. She shot him a scowl as she moved slowly toward the turtle's shell. A trail of light followed her fingers at she ran them along the edge of his carapace. As she lifted her hand away the light lingered for a few moments before fading away. His eyes pierced into her with a menacing glare; lips curled into a sneer. She caught his look and leaned back with a small sigh. Her movements would have caused the bed to bounce had she been corporeal. He reached forward to lay a hand on the turtle's forehead. She made a small gasp and a gesture of brushing him back, a look of concern on her face. He glowered at her again, a menacing growl reverberating from his chest. She flicked her head to the side with frustration, before meeting Darkness's gaze once again. She smiled coyly; then made a deliberate motion of closing her eyes. He grumbled retracted his hand, and studied her suspiciously for a moment. His curiosity outweighed his patience and he closed his eyes.
He shared her vision, of Darkness consuming Michelangelo. The young turtle fighting with all his might, the nightmares overwhelming him, losing to darkness through insanity. Leonardo would fall shortly after, unable to free himself from his dark burdens, falling upon his sword. Raphael would take to darkness treating it much the same as Shredder, a means to an end; he ended with a knife through his heart. Donatello was the last, giving into darkness through grief, poisoning himself and his distraught master. Darkness shuddered with anticipation and licked his lips hungrily, there was more. The vision turned to the unprotected city. Light began to fade as people lived in fear. The city fell, the storm of darkness engulfing it and the country not long after. It took many years but the world crumbled as well .With Light eliminated, the balance became impossible to maintain. There was pure chaos. Darkness did not rule this new world, he cowered from it. Unable to control his own power, darkness devoured all including himself. He opened his eyes.
He looked at her pensively. Her shoulders squarely set; a small tear ran from the corner of eye caressing her cheek. He knew it could not come from grief but resolve. She could see the outcome of his actions just as he could see hers. Part of him had always believed the balance indestructible, but now he remembered it to be untrue, he could fall prey to his own power. He sighed, rubbing his hand against his face, avoiding his claws. He looked at her, her eyes cast downward taking in the turtle before her. He looked to Michelangelo, the turtle's light fading with each passing moment. To devour the turtle now would be easy, but unsatisfying. Darkness would rule this clan without its youngest member. Darkness understood now, without one the others would fall, it did not matter who fell first. They were dominos. Their fall was inevitable, but for now, she was right. He shot her an icy glare. He was already regretting this decision, but in a few hours the balance would shift and he would become her and then he would not. He sat up on his knees throwing her a weary glance as he reached forward once again. She offered a small smile of encouragement and turned her attention to the sleeping form before them. Darkness laid his hand on the turtle's sweaty brow.
"Sleep."
He drew himself out of Michelangelo's mind, the darkness swirling in the air before becoming part of himself once again. The turtle exhaled sharply as the darkness was pulled from him, his contorted face taking on a neutral expression. She leaned forward and rubbed her hand in a slow circle upon the turtle's plastron directly above his heart, gently slipping in her light. Michelangelo's face calmed, taking on a more serene countenance. Darkness watched the proceedings mindfully, before sliding off the nightstand and crossing the room to stand before her. She took her hand away, the turtle sighed happily rolling to his side and snuggling down into the covers. She gently caressed his cheek as his breathing deepened and evened out. Darkness offered her his hand; she took it and gracefully stood.
The door creaked open, Donatello stood in the doorway making sure the sound had not awoken his brother. Gratified, he quietly made his way to the outlet beside the bed. He crouched in front of it, rummaging in his belt. Removing the nightlight from the wall he replaced the burnt out bulb. It shone brightly as he plugged the light back in. He turned towards his younger brother, sleeping peacefully. Don smiled at his brother's blissful expression. He made his way back to his own room, closing the door quietly.
Mikey opened his eyes. His brother had chased away the darkness.
His brothers always chased Darkness away.
This story was a response to a challenge given to me by my best friend:
Write a conversation that speaks volumes with no words.
How do you think I did? Would you be interested in reading more along this theme? Let me know!