Chapter Four:

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Another week had passed since the incident, and much had been revealed.

Through diligent research, we got a few answers regarding the toxin and what it had contained, and are currently working on backtracking any possible sources to limit their exact origin. The results involving the blood samples from the turtles are currently being thoroughly investigated, in order to connect the dots and cross out the incorrect theories, and come out with a solid answer to what is happening to them exactly.

But also, more unexplained oddities appeared, as even more questions were added to the ever growing list of obscurities. Raphael and Michelangelo are clearly suffering a second mutation, but its nature, good or bad, had yet to be complete revealed.

The report regarding the accident had been sent out, and an investigation team had been sent to the site of the explosion to farm as much information as possible. The press had been hopefully and permanently stopped from snooping around the site, in order to prevent infections or the people and wildlife surrounding it.

The area had been completely sealed off. A new path had been paved around it, so people following the main road would be able to get from New York to Northampton, while being as far away from the dome as possible, in order to reach their desired location.

But then something new came up. A new human-like entity of sorts had been apprehended at the site. She was trying to sneak into the dome for some reason, but my men managed to capture her before she crossed the dome's gates. She refused to explain her reasons or need to go in there, and kept her lips sealed, therefore they sent her here to base to be questioned.

If I hadn't already been burdened by so much, I would have investigated the issue myself.

From her appearance and features, I'm inclined to confirm the person is an adult female, Y'Lantian Entity, goes by the name of Versallia, but why she had tried to go into the dome, while knowing the dangers of being at such close proximity to the poisonous fumes is beyond me. She refused to speak and give any answers. All we could confiscate from her was a rather huge, first-sized globed stone of sorts made of smoothed type of crystal.

Meanwhile, Donatello merely sulked and sat in the corner of the small, empty and well padded room.

Spending his solitude in deafening silence, he would jerk his arms every now and then, trying to move his arms and legs and perform some ninjutsu activities, but to no avail. His new body was too thin, too light, he kept spinning or back-flipping too fast and wring himself around, only to fall and hit the floor with a muffled clank. Frustrated and upset, and sometimes infuriated beyond reason, he would go into a tantrum and start hitting, kicking and punching the walls in a fit of anger, but it usually doesn't last for long as he later crumbles to the floor and just lay there, unmoving.

That was the third tantrum this week. His temperament keeps getting worse, denial and rejection to his new form had put him in an emotional torrent. His lack of faster improvement is rather frustrating, but at least he's not raving mad anymore.

In the first two weeks of his revival, he would get up and move around every now and then, but due to the fact that we were forced to disable his arms and tie them behind his spine, seeing there is no straightjacket that could confine his skinny figure, to stop him from trying to 'shut down' himself was avoided by mere coincidence.

It's hard to tell what emotion he is displaying at times, from between slamming his head against the walls and sneering and seething, howling like a mad dog, and when huddling into a skinny ball on the floor, whimpering and murmuring to himself. I don't know whether to be disgusted at the whimpering heap of what used to be a great ninja, or pity the crumbled man he had become.

'Damn you, Bishop! God damn you to hell!' he roared into the newly installed speakers once.

Usually such things don't bother me, but that one time it brought an uncomfortable prickle to my skin. It reminded me that no matter how I harden myself, I am still human with emotions that can get the better of me if I'm not careful. It doesn't help that the lack of proper sleep isn't helping, either. Ever since this whole dilemma started, I can't remember the last time I've had a long restful sleep.

These emotions, I love to hate them; they make me feel so human yet also feel like a beast.

I feel that they control me and limit my progress, that they drag me back and toss me to the pit of self-doubt and failure. But on other occasions, they function like a premonition, it's a gut feeling that usually tells me something will happen in the future, whether near or far but it's not for me to know yet. If you cloned yourself time and time again for years, that gut feeling just seems to develop overtime, if you know what I mean.

"You know, those two have healed quite a bit." Stockman mumbles almost as if in disbelief.

I tried not to jump in start when he appeared next to me, watching Donatello in his new body howl and attack the padded walls. "Stockman, I thought you were at the labs receiving the test results." I growled. I cursed myself; I was so distracted I didn't even hear him approach? I'm getting old…

"I was," He murmured. Cybernetic eyes fixed to the small window, seeing he was more robot looking than his holographic old form. Looking at Donatello as he collapsed onto the padded floor once again, he gave a small sigh, but I couldn't read what it represented. "Let me tell you, I never really expected it to be this- serious." He then added a bit solemnly.

"Which is?" I muttered as I rolled my neck a bit, wanting to stay awake but a knot in my spine refused to pop, it was getting uncomfortable.

"Michelangelo seems to be regaining consciousness faster than anticipated. Sentry reported that woke up and remained awake for more than ten minutes about an hour ago." He walked over to a panel near the door of Donatello's confinement room, tapped some buttons and paused as to allow the computer to process and save the information he inserted.

Small shafts opened as mechanical arms were revealed from the ceiling, a small whirr could be heard as they descended down upon the collapsed bionical skeleton, carefully hoisting him up into a standing position. Donatello did not move or struggle, though his head bobbed a bit in habit when feeling emotional exhausted. He had been through this before and knows better than to get hardheaded.

The arms will pull him into another room to place him within a capsule, and there we will monitor his body functions to make sure he is physically adapting to the cybernetic body. Some times the bionic limbs may start to apply static pressure upon his cyber-nerve system, which then push the static towards the brain chamber, and the more static pressure applied to his cranium, the more it will hurt and the more likely he'll try to end himself to stop the pain.

Also, we need to keep any stains off the parts of his system that need to stay clean, which might damage the brain dome overtime, so we need to vent out the static, thoroughly cleanse the dome and figure out a way to do it manually, or else it would make his brain fry or get an infection overtime, if he is overpowered in electrical charges, or if there is a leak in the dome and germs managed to get into the cranium chamber.

Also, one of the scientists brought up the subject of magnetic interference. Donatello's body might have been structured of various earthly and alien materials, yet he is somewhat vulnerable to the strong magnetic waves caused by high magnetic zones or devices.

"Also, the contamination unit had confirmed they're no longer radioactive." Stockman then added, returning my focus to Michelangelo and Raphael's condition, "For some strange reason, their bodies have absorbed the toxic waste and had forged itself with their mutated blood. Oddly enough where Raphael's shell and bones seem to be crystallizing and becoming harder, Michelangelo's particles are falling apart and becoming more liquefied." He mumbled a bit, and then stared as the arms pulled Donatello to the next room beyond our sight. "It's safe to be around them without the protective suits, they no longer reek of the toxin that strongly anymore, but I suggest caution and keep using the suits for another few weeks, anyway." He added.

Standing there, I inhaled slowly as the exo-suit had been put into sleep mode, and Donatello will not be able to move for a while, it'll allow his suit to recharge and keep his vitals sane. Not that the ex-turtle would need to sleep, not anymore, his body recharges gradually on its own so there is really no worry. But better safe than sorry, I guess.

Moments passed, before we both silently exit the lobby and heading towards where Raphael and Michelangelo had been moved to, for better treatment and closer inspection regarding their developing conditions.

After we have arrived, I decided to wait outside to watch them through the glass window separating me from the ones inside, while Baxter entered and glanced at the monitor screen showing Raphael's statue; it's control panel and screens poised and covered half the wall with charts and leavers whatnot. He flicked a switch and cranked a dial, causing Raphael's bed to quiver a bit before it rose a bit higher.

The turtle furrowed and rolled his head, stirred a bit at the shivering sensation shaking the bed, but otherwise did not wake up.

Baxter then approached the still sleeping turtle and inspected him, checking eye-dilation and then looked into the turtle's mouth. After that he pressed his fingers to Raphael's neck to check the pulse, and I glanced at the monitor screen to see the results.

Raphael's signs showed about forty degrees celsius regarding body heat, and a hundred and nine heartbeats per minute? Hmm, his temperature and heartbeats seem to be accelerating.

The monitor screens showed the vitals of the two unconscious turtles as they lay motionless in bed. From what I gather they're both getting better, aside the odd heartbeat and body temperature ratings going sky rocket at one point, and nearly stopping the next day, but perhaps the pain of their bodies re-mutating is too much for them, therefore the doctors were forced to sedate them till they were in a less pained, and more stable condition, to be cooperative when the physical activities and tests need to be run.

Michelangelo's control panel was at the other wall on the other side of the room.

Ironically enough his vitals signs seemed to go the exact opposite of Raphael's which I found frustratingly confusing. Whenever we try to compare the charts they're either on the same stage, or one of them suffers hyperthermia where the other gets hypothermia. Where Raphael gets high blood pressure and his body heats and sweats, Michelangelo practically goes ice cold and slips into hibernation.

Just then Silver Sentry entered the room and sat next to Michelangelo's bed again, while this time Ananda entered the room right after and sat next to Raphael's. There is only one entrance to this room, unlike the intensive care room from before, and I must really be getting old if they had managed to walk past me without me noticing!

For a long suspicious moment, they only glanced at each other with wary expressions, as if suddenly feeling very uncomfortable when they knew I was watching. This time they did not try to talk, not with Baxter in the room, and I believe he knew and did not leave even after he was done inspecting Raphael. Instead, he shooed them away and began on Michelangelo, though Ananda looked unimpressed. She and Sentry then remained by Raphael's side as Baxter reset the bed back in place.

I wondered what those two were up to; Ananda and Sentry. They've been keeping a close eye on those turtles and making sure Baxter or I are not alone with them for too long, it doesn't bode well. I started wondering if they were forming some sort of plan to get those turtles out of here, either because they feared I would dissect them without their knowledge, or because they were being idiots and thinking that since they no longer need protective suits, then they could smuggle them out or something.

Frankly, just for the safe side to prevent something that dumb from happening, I'll need to limit their movement and privileges around this section of base. After all, superheroes or not they still work under my control; I'm their agent and the commander of the Justice Force command center, after all. Besides, it's not like I'll do anything to the turtles, not now, anyway. I dislike having to rid of something when I could still make sure of it.

Stockman's fingers tapping over a keyboard in the small computer room, and its echoes bounced in the thick silence.

I could see Raphael and Michelangelo clearly from where I stood outside, and they were ironically sleeping peacefully like children.

I think monitoring Donatello's status through another screen is going to be necessary, but I'll have to move him in another room once he's sanity is no longer in question. I can't risk him discovering his brothers, nor them discovering his new state and ganging against me.

Then again, when I think back about it again and again, I believe it might be high time we let him know they're alive.

Who knows? He might be the one to truly be able to help them regain consciousness, and to tell us if they're suffering anything. He'll be able to cure it seeing he knows their body functions much better. To my knowledge, he is something like the family doctor in spite of being a ninja and a fighter, though from years of observation I know he is not the type to start a fight.

Little do those turtles realize I've known of their existence since day one! That lost canister of mutagen was a pain to find, and if my men weren't dolts and freaked the truck driver he wouldn't have nearly hit that man to begin with. They were simply asked to apprehend the driver and confiscate the load of 'illegal' canisters inside, was that so hard to follow?

I confess I was fascinated with Splinter when he took the baby turtles instead of eating them, but forgot all about him when the four began to develop and changed their home location. At the time, I didn't have the tracking bugs or devices made, and since they lived in the rat's burrow I didn't think he'd move out so soon. Their growing up days was lost to me, and I actually forgot all about them later on.

I only managed to track them again after Raphael's truck indecent about tow or three years ago, when they have been reintroduced to the Foot and he got trapped inside that truck. At the time he had just employed Baxter and I had spies within the Foot to keep an eye on Saki; I knew he was an alien I just had no way to prove it, and to my surprise Leonardo came into view later, as Saki wanted to recruit him into his line.

Naturally Leonardo refused and it went downhill for the turtles from there.

Alas, around that time, just as I narrowed down the area of where they might be hidden, Karai went and smashed their home, a Y'Lantian fortress of all things, and now I'm still looking in hope to find where they had gone to next. Perhaps when Raphael and Michelangelo awake, they'd be more inclined to let me know of their home location; I could use Leatherhead's aid in this issue and I'm sure he'd want to be here with his friends as well.

Although I doubt Leatherhead would believe me if I told him they're alive, and even if he did believe me, who's to say he'd even accept what had happened to them. I do believe Donatello had gone somewhat mad, and if he had truly gone mad or utterly insane and proved to be a threat, then I will have no other alternative but to remove him.

After all, he did want to remain dead, did he not?

. o 0 o 0 o .

Fifteen days had passed since the day of the accident.

Raphael remained unmoving on his bed like a pharaoh in his tomb.

He would stir and groan every once in a while, but not by much. He had almost, seemingly, been turned into a giant darker green statue with cracked, blistered and slits adorning his skin. His blood had stopped leaking on the sheets in a sticky mass of blackish, maroon purple with a tint of red, clearly because of the toxic he was exposed to, seeing his body absorbed it all.

His skin had grown about twice thicker, his body had grown a fair bit in size, to the point the bed's legs started to bend from the massive weight placed upon them. His flesh had remained cracked but no longer bleeding, almost like the desert sand when they crack up with the intense heat, threatening to peel itself off. The situation worsens when he goes into a state of hyperthermia, his body heats and he sweats, and the sweat reeks of the toxin like a foggy cloud of poison.

Breathing in the air for long periods will slowly make one's lungs diminish. Tests were run and I have the results to prove it.

But after a bit of treating we figured out a salve of sorts Raphael will need to take on a regular daily basis, in order to prevent his body odor of being so poisonous. It won't stop it from poisoning those around him, but it would make it easier to treat on the long run. He might have to wear a special suit that will prevent the smell from spreading, though.

Also, since now there is no longer a threat of infecting anyone physically, the only way for anyone to get killed while interacting with him, would be if they apply his mutated blood into an open mound, which I wouldn't know why they'd even try. The medic staff had to change and then dispose of the used and stained bed sheets, exclaiming that they were not washable, but burning them wasn't an option since the odor was the main problem.

The mutated blood samples were tested on animals and as expected, it didn't take more than an hour before the creatures suffered a horrendous state of hyperthermia. Their coat or fur fell off as if being burned off from the inside, as their skin started to slit and tear itself apart, their saliva mixed with hints of blood, then after six hours of suffering instant and sudden death came. Most animals would suddenly start in a fit of loud painful screeching or shrikes as they would thrash around in agony, then just as suddenly stop dead in their tracks, literally dead.

Raphael's condition is by far most stable, despite the fact that he hadn't woken up longer than ten minutes, yet. No signs of sudden death whatsoever, and he's not suddenly screaming in a fit of agony, so I'm guessing there is probably a better chance of his survival. After all, it had been about two weeks now, a lot longer than the test animals had survived.

Michelangelo, although also surviving with not so much physical pain event, on the other hand, his lower body is not doing so well.

I'm afraid we might have to remove his legs before the damaged, burnt cancer-like infection reaches over his knees. The skin is almost peeling and melting right off on its own, especially around the joints like the toes, ankles and knees, and in a worse cause than Raphael's, it had grown disgustingly mushy and lumpy, with bright-greenish like lumpy zit.

Poking them hard enough would puncture them and cause a gash, it would ooze out the foam-like greenish matter, mixed with purplish black blood as well, but in a shade lighter than Raphael, as well as leaning more to the color purple than black. It was recognized as a type of rotting-fungi forming under his skin, mixed with the sweat and dirt that gradually gathered under his kneepads.

In other words, Michelangelo's body had somehow absorbed the toxic, but like a sponge, the alien substance itself somehow reacted to the body salts, and reacted violently to it at that, and then broke his body from the inside, not the outside like it had done to Raphael. I'm afraid the only way to spare him is to remove his legs, they're no longer functional and they're a danger to his health.

True he may never walk again, and he might have to use a wheelchair until he is stable enough, finishes a rehab treatment and get readied for installing bionic legs via surgery, they'll be far more efficient than his current ones. It's all a matter of time and acceptance to do so. Even if he refused to chop off those legs, we'll do it regardless, I rather keep him alive for the moment than kill him off. Even his shell suffers the infection, so I know once his condition is stable we will carry on with the surgery before the infection reaches deeper within the body.

Leatherhead might like to know his friends are still intact when we actually find him, aside Leonardo and Splinter since it is not my fault they're irredeemable. He'll just have to live with it.

I had asked Nobody to try and find any agitated mutant crocodiles in the sewers, but thus far he had come empty handed. No surprise there, though; Leatherhead has these turtles as friends, so I'm sure that old dog learned new tricks.

Donatello, however, was probably the only one doing better physically. I do hope I can say the same about his mentality though; his current state of mind irks me, and I just can not figure out why. Nowadays, he just sits in the corner of his padded room with his thin legs curled close, arms slumped down, touching the padded floor.

Here I am, at the moment, standing before his chamber and watch him huddled in the corner, sulking the hours away.

Donatello had become such a death-seeker, I figure he'd take his own life whenever he gets the chance. As much as I want to give him hope to make proper use of him, I can not do so when he is too traumatized to even listen to me.

On a whim and against my better judgment to keep this topic a secret, I decided to risk talking to him.

I've originally come here to check on him and clear my mind, but I've felt like I've been running in a circle for too long, perhaps I should stop avoiding the topic, quit the hesitation to talk to him. His body had been modified to disable everything, excluding brain functions, if he tried to enter combat mode or showed aggressive tendencies, so there is no risk of him attacking me.

I entered the code in the door's control panel and stood before the door as it opened, braced myself and entered, then paused again as the door closed behind me. The mechanical instruments installed within the room are programmed to allow me in and out, aside Baxter who has a few narrowed privileges, the two of us have full reign of control over this section of base.

I watched him in silence for a moment longer, the two of us remained unmoving. I wondered what he was thinking and if he acknowledged I was even there, but ignored my presence, then figured he was either too desperate, or depressed to care that I've entered his safety zone, or he had somehow disabled one of his own programs without our knowledge.

"Donatello," I spoke with a stoic blank voice, but at the lack of response I frowned, "I know you can hear me." I continued, dared to step closer and stared down at him, casually stuffing my hands into my pockets. "I think it's about time we talked." I said and awaited his reaction. His head faintly bobbed in a drunk like manner, but still he did not respond, so I decided to keep talking, "It's about your brothers." I confessed.

As expected his head jerked, then slowly raised his chin to look at me through bionic blue eyes, "My- brothers?" he barely whispered, unbelieving. He sounded rather hallow, as if unfamiliar with the concept of having brothers to begin with, and also hallow as if he was talking in a small metal can.

For a moment, I wondered if he was suffering memory loss. That would seriously put a reinforced wall blocking all of my plans! I nodded and swallowed the possible thought, and when it seemed like it barely registered in his mind, I voiced out the answer.

"They are alive, but I can not guarantee they would remain so for long." I stated, and with those words his head shot up in shock. "As I had previously tried to explain, Donatello, when the collusion between you and the truck had accrued, you were killed along with Leonardo and your master, Ms. O'Neil and Mr. Jones are both dead as well, but Raphael and Michelangelo had taken the least damage of it all." I explained.

"Raphael is currently in the state of getting re-mutated and is generally suffering hyperthermia and feverish symptoms, but the scientists here have yet to figure out what triggers them. Michelangelo on the other hand suffers the exact opposite, hypothermia." I took my hands out of my pockets and placed them on my knees, now daring to crouch down and kneel on one knee besides him, voice calm and even, "With your help, we can save them, if you wish for them to be saved."

He stared at me for a moment longer, his robotic eyes rolled about in their socket for a bit, probably his digital memory scoping the scene, zoning in and out for some reason.

Then he finally spoke, "What's the catch?" he somewhat hissed, his frail mechanical hands curled into small bony fists.

Amusingly enough, I couldn't help but quirk a sly grin; always the fast one, that Donatello. "For the moment, there is no catch." I admitted, "Once they are awake, I merely need closure about the accident, and for the moment you three are the only survivors."

"Then what?" he somewhat spat, unmoving, only his blue eyes stared at me.

I shrugged, "Work for me, perhaps?" I tossed it in, "Like I said, I really have no need for you besides feedback to what had happened." I replied, "Also, I need you to contact Leatherhead, he might be of aid in this situation. You and he can get things straightened out."

He didn't answer, instead he turned away in what I felt an angry jerk, and when he didn't reply I stood up and told him to consider the offer, and quietly exit the padded room.

Just as I started to walk down the hall, consumed by my own thoughts, my communicator beeped and I answered it.

I received confirmation that the Sydney woman and the Entity woman had crossed paths whole being escorted from the dining hall to their personal chambers, and the mutant girl suddenly went berserk and tried to attack the other.

Curious yet concerned, I decided to investigate. Something tells me this little skirmish might be more involved in this dilemma than I'd like to think.

Or maybe it's just one of those days that things go horribly wrong.

Once this day is over, I'm going to try and get some decent sleep.

Right about now, my head hurts enough to want to rip it off my own neck!

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A/N: constructive critique welcomed.