Disclaimer
Once again, I don't own the ninja turtles, but if I did, Donatello would be with Raph, (my favorite turtlecest pairing), Casey would have died, leaving Leo to be the rebound for April, And Mikey would just die old and alone because I couldn't think of anything else :P Oh! And special thanks to devil fan, for motivating me to finish this chapter! You rock you funky Capybara!
Donatello screamed, and screamed, and screamed. He and his brothers where at an old saw mill, each tied on a conveyor belt, with a deadly, sharp toothed circular blade waiting for them at the end of it. It was coming closer and closer, and he and his brothers where powerless to stop it, there was no clever plan, no brilliant way to get out of this, they were tied up tightly, keeping their hands at their side and their feet together. Everyone was at a loss for words, except Donatello, that is, if you count screaming as a word.
Michelangelo, was the first to go, screaming and thrashing as soon as it started cutting through his feet and went up his thigh and cutting straight through his groin and going higher up into his stomach, he managed one last final sentence, he said "I love you guys "in a throaty and stuttering voice, blood gushing out of his mouth as he said it. It immediately made his brothers forgive every prank, every complaint, and every annoying thing he ever did. Michelangelo then went into his death throws, losing so much blood finally taking its deathly toll. His body went completely through, and fell into two neat slices on either side of the blade, making crimson splashes as they fell into their own pools of blood.
Leonardo was next. Just lying there, calm, cool, and collected as always, that was, until the blade started cutting into his heels, he screamed just as Michelangelo did, but within his screams where the resemblance of words. He was praying, or trying to, as the blade carved its deadly path, throwing blood and shards of bone onto the two remaining brothers. Donatello heard a strangled "amen" as the blade finally reached his heart and then he to, went into death convulsions. Then just like Michelangelo, he was split into two separate halves that fell into the pool of crimson blood, waiting for them on the end of their deathly journey. Raphael was the next to go, preferring to stay completely silent, or try to, there were still a few grunts and groans, but Donatello couldn't hear, he was too busy screaming, and so Raphael's last words to Donatello where wasted, Donatello to uproarious to hear them. Raphael's halves fell to the floor to join his brothers, leaving Donatello cold and alone as he was moved closer and closer to the blade. He could hear the grinding and screeching of metal against metal, he loved machines and anything mechanical, but he would never have imagined that they would serve as his executioner. The blade slowly and agonizingly started cutting into Donatello's heel, tearing muscle, and chipping bone. Once again he screamed, not even feeling the blade anymore, too scared and shocked. But then, Donatello's vision became blurry, until he couldn't see anything. Am I dead? He thought. Is this all there is to the afterlife? Just floating around aimlessly in blackness, cold and alone?
But then he saw it, a green terrapin's head beside him, clad in a blue mask, a concerned look on his face. "Donatello?" He asked. "Are you okay? I, I heard you screaming and got worried." Donatello wasn't dead, he merely had a nightmare, and his screams had awoken his older brother. Donatello sighed, embarrassed, "It's nothing Leo", Just a nightmare, go ahead and go back to bed, don't worry about me, you need your sleep." Leo sighed, exasperated, "Donny, you know I can't do that, I worry about you, and I worry about everyone, it's just the way I am!" " Well still, I'm fine, so please, just go back to bed," Donatello countered. "Alright…. but if you need anything you know where to find me." Leonardo muttered. With that, Leonardo walked out of the room. Donatello sighed, this wasn't the first nightmare he had had, but it was the first that had awoken one of his brothers.
They had started months ago, and hadn't stopped since. They always involved him and his brothers, dying in some new and elaborate way every night. From electric chairs, to guillotines, Donatello had experienced it all. He had researched and studied, looking at countless charts and graphs about sleep cycles and REM stages, but he just couldn't find the answers he was looking for. And so, like clockwork, Donatello had nightmares every night, but this was the first to awake his brother, He sighed, knowing what he needed, every night he always took a walk through the city to clear his thoughts after a nightmare, and the rhythmic pace of his footsteps always seemed to help him forget about his sleep terrors. Donatello then got up, grabbed his Bo, just in case, and snuck through the living room past a snoring Michelangelo on the couch, and out the door into the acrid smell of the sewers. The smell was usually overwhelming, but after spending his entire life down here, Donatello found the smell "homey" and comforting.
Donatello then proceeded to walk down the concrete edge of the tunnels, already having a route planned out, the same one he used every night, by now, he didn't even have to think about it, his feet just took him where he wanted to go, his mind was free to wander. After about 50 paces east, he encountered a man hole, the same one he found every night. He climbed the metal later, and pushed the heavy slab of metal away from the opening. Then he climbed out, and onto the pavement of an old department store parking lot. The smell and sounds of the city hit him like a train, surprising him, making him jump after so long of being quiet within the tunnels. There was a cool breeze blowing, as it was late November, the chill felt good, making him realize how hot he was, cooling the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his face and arms from walking in the damp and humid tunnels. Then looking around to make sure no one was watching, there hardly ever was, he slid the manhole cover back into its place, with the grinding sound of concrete against metal. Then Donatello proceeded to walk over into the nearest alleyway he could find, looking for a fire escape. When he found one, he hastily climbed up the noisy and rusted metal rungs, eager to be out of the open. The rooftop looked old and deserted, just like the rest of the building. Donatello then took a deep breath, and then began running, across the roof, and over the edge into the open air.
It was his favorite experience, the wind howling in his ears, the soft thud of each jump he made as he landed, Donatello just loved roof hopping. Springing with incredible agility, he made his way each rooftop, heading north. After jumping over about 20 alleyways, he saw his destination silhouetted against the harsh city lights, the park. The park was small, only about 5 acres, but it was Donatello's only place where he could think without any distractions. Donatello made his way down via nearby fire escape and into yet another alleyway. Walking towards the front of it, he peeked out to make sure no one was watching. When the coast was clear, he began a steady jog into the front gates, then immediately ran to the trees lining the sidewalk, eager not to be seen. He made his way deeper into the trees, about 30 paces, to one tree in particular, it was only an ordinary pine tree, but to him, it was his pine tree.
He sat down beneath it, crossing his legs and arms, afraid he would fall asleep. He sat there, deep in thought, for about 10 minutes until he noticed the candy bar wrappers and soda bottles cluttered around a nearby bush. It was normal for people to litter around here, but it was odd that it had been clustered around a single bush. Sighing, Donatello got up, curiosity getting the better of him. He silently crept over to the bush, hoping not to wake the occasional hobo that slept out in the woods, and looked over and behind the bush, expecting to find more wrappers and trash, then he gasped in shock, it was another turtle, by the looks of it, no more than 5, curled into a ball, at the base of the bush, hidden from view of passerby. But from the looks of it, it wasn't breathing.