Chapter Five
Michelangelo looked at his arm slung across his chest as he walked, eyes then turning heavily onto the ground. With each stumbling step he took allowing his body to sway with the heat in his flesh that caused the blurring in Michelangelo's vision turning him into something like an undead. Even though, for some reason he didn't know, he had been asserted as second in command of this group because the previous had vanished during the middle of the last major battle a week ago before his enlistment in this group. Now, Michelangelo let his eyes shift up from his downward position to be looking at the man leading them all to their next location, he was forced to deal with this 'man' day after day, even at night where he would shiver with fear over never 'knowing'.
This man... Amel...scared him more than even the thought of being killed in battle did. Amel had the fear of his soldiers and yet Amel fought with tunnel vision that made nothing around him even matter. Only a few days ago had been their first battle with this leader. It was one Michelangelo would remember. To see the men believing they could win yet after this thought seeing their leader 'attack' one of their own in his blind fit of 'passion' for the fighting.
It was never pleasant and the men had ran cowering away from such a ferocious man.
"Amel!" Michelangelo shouted out pushing his weary legs faster to be walking next to the sly smirking dolt of a leader. "We need to rest now, it's past nightfall and none of us are use to this type of punishment!" He looked back at the men, most smiling happily that he at least seemed to care about other colors, and then back to Amel.
"There isn't-." Amel froze as he spotted a few men actually fall down. "Fine, we'll camp here for the night. I don't like it though." He hissed this last part out for them to hear.
"Then go ahead. I know where the envoys are staying." the look that shifted, so furious, from Michelangelo's narrowed eyes turned up at Amel before the man nodded stiffly walking away strangely without a fight.
The group stood silently watching before Amel was far out of hearing range. When gone out of sight as well as hearing they too fell to the ground. Michelangelo turned looking at them seeing some nearly already out cold before softly smiling.
A strong arm wrapped around the turtles waist and lifted Michelangelo up into the furred chest of Michelangelo's best friends chest, "You are strong, Michelangelo, but even you must rest too." Charles had seemed far more attached to Michelangelo these last few days. Almost to the point as if stitched into Michelangelo's shoulder. It was a comfort because Charles was the very reason the young black clothing turtle was still alive now after these few days.
"Just let me sit down... I still have to make sure..." Michelangelo felt how weak his legs were along with feeling the groups eyes turned worriedly at him. "Just get the tents set up, Charles, and make a short inventory... please..."
"Of course!" Charles, a vibrant wolf, made Michelangelo giggle as he was leaned against one of the ever growing trees in this scattered. His eyes closed as sleep dragged through his body but thoughts of punishment for disrespecting his commanding color was tossed like a salad through the air in his mind, the contents spilling making him twitch uncomfortably.
Michelangelo had been shocked when a red envoy for the blacks that traveled with him that he knew from his time training. He was a close friend with Charles so when the man walked in cursing out Amel it was a system shock to Michelangelo.
The man had said that it was far to late to retreat... to save the group they were in... Michelangelo had sat up as the ews sat down holding his hands in the air before down on his knees. They talked for a while before Michelangelo learned how so many of them had already died when it was only a small scuffle. Michelangelo felt sad to not even realize it since he was still tending his own wounds.
Amel sacrificed his men. He killed them in cold blood just to get a thrill out of the fight, Charle's friend said. He had never expected that such a man was still a Dawn. Amel's actions, his words, and the way he treated some of the men like they were nothing but... things...
Michelangelo didn't see those things until he became second in command... he had his suspicions as to what happened to predecessor. Just like he knew the inkling of burning flesh always wafting to his nose when he watched Amel beginning to fight when Amel took another dusk to its grave.
Just like on the transportation ship... Just like when he was beginning to fall down... That memory still so vivid. He had been falling to his death down into the forest below. He had only seconds to call out Amel's name and seeing the other looking shocked. His face didn't last long in Michelangelo's view. When things turned blue and Michelangelo's eyes were facing the sky was when he felt the arms around his waist. Fingers tightening in the fabric of his pants. Amel's words yelling out something so incomprehensible.
All Michelangelo saw was eyes tinted a black purple. The smile, close to borderline insanity and love, meeting his own. Then the words that rang out of the person he knew so well, "I haven't given you permission to die, yet, brother. Wait a little longer before throwing yourself off another train."
He opened his eyes breathing labored as a few greens were next to him holding his shoulders and arms so he couldn't slump and fall into the mud.
"Sorry," Michelangelo had grown to understand that though he was a black wearer he was somehow … kinder... when he didn't have to worry about pretenses. The group, his soldiers and now friends, had taken that kindness to heart. The bond that grew because he stood up for them against that tyrant on many different occasions had only boosted their affection for him.
"It's fine." A human green said smiling as he let Michelangelo's head rest on his shoulder, "Your tent is last like always... we just thought you didn't want to get muddy before going to bed..."
A few others nodded as one stated behind him, "And you'd do the same for us... well... you already have in some ways..."
Were these the same people on the transportation who looked at him with disgust? Who thought of him as some mindless pathetic black only wanting to kill... well if they fought with him to a point they would agree with it.
The progress was slow work but the group worked well together, Amel was right about how tight knitted battle would make them, and he smiled as he forced himself up, much to the Green's dislike, and walked over to help with one of the tents. This was his family until he went home. Michelangelo would do anything to protect them. Even if he was low in strength it could still be harvested up from somewhere inside him to help.
"You really should rest." Charles had come over standing behind the battle exhausted turtle who still had a hard time standing up straight. "The inventory is done and the tents are up, I've told them all the time of their shifts and the basics. Come, let us head to bed together." If Michelangelo wasn't sluggish in his head he would have blushed and asked what Charles meant by that. The wolfan grinned like a fiend, they always do, as he walked Michelangelo to the tent in the middle of the group. Michelangelo had the faint feeling that his friend would be sleeping in his tent by his side. Maybe, if nothing did interrupt and destroy that feeling.
Only second in command slept in the tent with their commander. It was the law of things because if the commander needed to issue orders at night he didn't want to hunt for someone, he wanted to go back to bed.
Michelangelo hated the ranking system at times. Blacks were the leaders, they were the ones who dictated all others then the elders you never saw in the great city. Reds came next in the ranking line due to their usual brute strength and loyalty. A black and red always fit together in fights because of their strong dictation towards something in common. To that point Michelangelo's and Charles's relationship prior to their graduation ceremony was a help to their bonding agent.
Greens were the third class, they were usually the stealth class, Michelangelo always believed it was because they blended in so well with their environment. Even a friend in his class was a green, he knew the girl but she was always so illusive. It stunned him and he spent days trying to find out how to do that... what a mistake because he had gotten in trouble.
Then the last of the fighting class were the blues. They mainly consisted of the spell casters. Always so strong in their way with no fist violence from such a distance of casting that they made the blacks look like trash. They could move and flow like the water. It was beautiful to see, but it was also rare for a black to be a plain spell caster like Michelangelo was... so in a way he had adopted the 'violent beauty' on the battlefield from his ranged and close battles.
Michelangelo smiled as his shell hit the cot and a sigh of love came from his lips. Slowly Michelangelo felt his shirt being unbuttoned and slipped down showing his chest, he blushed feeling slightly exposed but he couldn't seem to say 'stop' to his friend doing such a thing.
His pants were unbuttoned from that one side before the small string was attached to his waist allowing it to pulled down a bit. Another stronger feverish blush flowed over to cover his beak as he turned his head looking at Charles over him, stripping him.
Wolfan had no decency... but Michelangelo didn't complain. Charles had already saw him naked once, even touched him naked... that made a slight moan come to his mouth as Charles froze looking up at his friend as if he had hurt him.
"Sorry, stretching legs... good..." the chuckle that was met made him turn his head as small fleeting images of his brother doing what his friend was doing now was making his body respond instantly to the soft touches of furred fingers.
He somehow could feel Leonardo lifting up his shoulders, to feel the three scaly fingers touch trailing down pulling the fabric away from Michelangelo's chest. The soft sound of his shirt hitting the floor made his heart jump as Leonardo's image smirked, those blue eyes narrowing as they shifted to Michelangelo's lap trailing down pulling the smaller turtles pants down. Hungry eyes trailed over the small slit acrossed the young turtles bone like shell before another hand joined trailing to the side. His hips were lifted using the material of his pants then yanked down to his knees.
The cool air chilled Michelangelo's skin causing him to shiver involuntarily while the hands, the image of Leonardo, continued to strip him of his shin guards and cloth like boots. He gave a soft sigh as he felt a blanket being drooped over his small frame before a tongue licked his head and he almost had a thought to say 'Ewww, brother' but it was restrained.
He then remembered who was doing this and it wasn't the one whom he lived with.
Morning had brought a cold damp of heat that soaked into him like the water from the night. His eyes opened weakly before he turned onto his right side using his elbow to push himself up. His face felt hot as he tried to remember what he had saw last night in the other world.
Strange how each night his counterpart was doing something sinful. Always returning back here to his home, to the battlefield, before they could go far into … that. His eyes lifted up as a water skin sack full of spring water and herbs met his lips, his head tilted back so he could drink. Slowly he looked into Charles' concerned face as he pulled the waterskin away and replaced the cork in so that the smell of the herb scented water and the contents of the water itself wouldn't spill as he dropped it to the floor..
"You must rest, as must we all." Michelangelo was confused as he sat up more, the blanket falling revealing his body to his friend, he didn't feel a bit to seem to even care as he stood up looking around so he could change. "Michelangelo, did you-."
"What happened last night?" Michelangelo grinned finding his pants and began slipping them on. He now loved the feel of the material caressing his body. It had become such a comfort, his outfit, that the thought of it ever ruined hurt him like a blade of his brothers slicing his skin.
Charles didn't say anything as Michelangelo put on his shoes and shin guards. The orange eyes turned up to give a curious look before Charles turned around walking out of the room before Amel entered.
"My my..." Amel smiled standing with his hands at his side, "You have seemed to capture this groups heart... how disgusting for a black to be so sympathetic and comforting to a group that'll die." Michelangelo set his shirt off to the side as he stood up from the cot he sat on for walking to Amel, barely reaching the middle of Amel's chest, before he looked into Amel's face.
"Is that wrong to put my comrades first before myself?" here he felt the usual thing Amel did in the morning. The index finger touching his neck before trailing down. The finger slowly cut across his throat then taking a turn down the middle of his plastron. A shiver left Michelangelo's body as Amel leaned his smile twisted into a grin that only Dusk's ever wore when they were about to claim one of the Dawns for the first time. For their first in bed and in the 'hell' of their own living ways on the sinful side. His lips were mere centimeters from Michelangelo's.
Death's kiss was what the Dawn's called it because the sins you would never feel without permission would arise. Overwhelm your body making you kiss back, your hands would travel over the Dusk before you. He had seen a few men fall to it and it had always brought tears to his face since they had been good and close friends to him.
"I think you are forgetting something, Hamato Michelangelo." Michelangelo stepped back feeling the pressure on his chest, Amel's energy, coursing to his heart. He winced as another step was forced from him. "You're MY second in command like your predecessor before you." Michelangelo closed his eyes as the back of his knees hit the cot sending him flailing onto it. Amel's finger didn't follow but the man straddled Michelangelo's body pinning him down as he leaned over the turtle's chest whispering again, "You belong to me until I or you die."
This was how Amel started his days, Michelangelo looked at Amel's eyes before he felt the human hands trailing over his body. Was this what his predecessor suffered through every morning? Was this why some men from the prior group of Amel's would come into Michelangelo's tent before they set off always looking like something was wrong, something had violated them?
'Of course.' that inner voice spat with disgust as Michelangelo held back a gasp as two hands wrapped around his throat showing Amel had finished 'playing'. The words when Michelangelo had been brought into this tent the first time still carried some sort of 'sacred hold' in his head.
** FlashBack **
'You are here to be promoted to my second in command,' so snide was it said, 'your body is mine, the words out of your mouth are mine, and how you die is my choosing.' Amel had stood up from his cot dragging Michelangelo to the bed stripping him of every article of clothing in seconds, though nothing happened other than an 'evaluation', with his own magic causing Michelangelo to realize that Amel had complete dominance and fear over the second black, Michelangelo.
Michelangelo cried after Amel had left because he had no understanding if this was true regulations. His brother had never let him stay long enough to learn what to do when you were the second in command. He remembered sitting away from the group his arms tightly wrapped around his body, his legs locked together trying to forget how Amel's hand felt putting pressure 'there'...
'When I take what is sacred from you it will be my own choosing. Until then I hope you like teasing.' He hated Amel, hated this battle, and at first he hated this group for never coming in to save him. Charles had been the worst to deal with for a few weeks. His friend, every day after the sinful treatment, would try to interact like normal with Michelangelo. A very Wolfan way: Touching, rubbing, playful wolf style.
The words Michelangelo used, along with the actions,over the time period of days must have hurt his friend. For that month alone Michelangelo cast aside everyone because he wasn't sure if they even cared about a black cloth in second in command being used as a Dusk would use their victims.
Michelangelo learned that he was wrong. The company had been worried. The long walk between the camp before the last two had assured Michelangelo of it. They might not have known what was happening and he was so thankful for it. The day that he was took a side on one of the walks to 'scout' ahead was one he thankfully felt content with.
The look, the tone, Charles had given Michelangelo at the time was furious but sympathetic. He had not said anything after the talk before just standing there staring at Michelangelo until he began to cry. Charles had wrapped the small fragile looking turtle in a warm embrace, telling him that he along with the others would be there to support him, but only second later Charles had pulled back eyes wide before he began sniffing Michelangelo's scent. Charles' eyes had become as red as blood as his fangs grew larger.
Michelangelo watched as realization dawned on Charles' face. He could see the fury welling up as he again was pulled into a hug where Charles rubbed his head against Michelangelo's head and neck, it was scenting Michelangelo knew that much from how many years he had known Charles and his family.
It was a mark for all other animal based fighters to know that he was owned, but Amel was human and wouldn't be able to pick up on it. Though the sentiment was strong and it brought hope and happiness Michelangelo had not felt since his time always by Leonardo's side. No matter how small.
** End Flashback **
Michelangelo's eyes snapped open as the memory faded and he looked up into Amel's face as his lips covered Mikey's own. Amel didn't force himself into Michelangelo's mouth, like usual, before he pulled away grinning then standing up only beginning to demand what his status allowed him to, "Get dressed and make sure the men are ready."
The seconds only dragged as Michelangelo threw on his shirt not even bothering to button it up. He wanted away but he knew he'd never get there fast enough.
'Bound by honor the blacks follow like whipped dogs,' Michelangelo spat in his head before finding Charles first, the ruby eyes looked down his body the growling of fury and possessiveness increasing every morning, every time Amel touched Michelangelo's body in any such way.
Charles, his dear friend Charles...
"I'm fine, he didn't do anything." Michelangelo relaxed as Charles nodded standing closer to Michelangelo a small whine leaving his wolfan chest. "I need you to get the men ready, tell the other reds to start packing up the tents and the blues to get everything rounded up. He'll want to move shortly and I doubt we want to hear him throw a tantrum."
Charles nodded his head, bending his snout down rubbing his nose against Mikey's check before leaving to do as he was told. Michelangelo smiled at his friends antics before he walked over to talk to a few men in charge of supplies and see how much was consumed during the rest last night and this morning. He hoped they had enough to make it to the Envoys.
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The second trip had no rest in it, Amel did not budge this time, and they walked for nearly two and a half weeks before coming finally to an opening in the forest like area to which had twisted into an open empty battle scarred plain, most of the men were wide eyed their faces looking around with worry. In the middle of the afternoon none of them could blend in easy with their backgrounds. None of them could freely move without having another person check their left or right.
"Oh... I can smell it in the air!" Amel said grabbing Michelangelo by the arm and pushing him against the taller man's body. "There's a fight up ahead! Ohhh... and it smells like fun!" The sick twist to his words made the contents in Michelangelo's stomach turn, but he had refused to eat because unlike Amel he didn't want the group to starve.
The man ate twice as much then he should have. He would drink more than three mens fill of water. Michelangelo felt anger towards his commanding officer. Amel would often try to make Michelangelo do the same as Amel, though Michelangelo was easily on a few occasions to fool him into letting the turtle not into such a rude horrible way of hurting the company of his 'friends'.
He had no care that he was looking thinner than before. That Michelangelo's body showed the abuse that Amel and he himself were forcing upon it.
Amel grinned raising his hand making the group stop, "I want Blues to head north about two miles towards that rock formation. Greens you are to scout ahead planting weapons and traps. Reds, go wild."
Go wild... of all the things to say to insult the Red pride... Michelangelo looked over spotting Charles fangs bared the red eyes on Amel and him. He could tell his friend's animal side was trying to break free. He hated how this must look to the group... they must feel disgusted by him.
'They are disgusted.' That voice returned, it bothered him. 'He's going to make a move when they leave... when Charles isn't here to save us...' it sounded like a childs voice. A weak, pathetic, and needing protection every second of every day voice.
A small gasp came from him as Amel's grip tightened as the leader whispered, "Tell them to leave before I make them."
"You... have your orders..." Michelangelo's pain filled voice was raspy before the reds, blues, and greens nodded with rage as they left.
Michelangelo could feel the lack of presence around him, feel only Amel's arm traveling down to lift his shirt up. If he was only stronger he knew he could have stopped what Amel would do next.
His orange eyes looked up, after closing for a shear moment of pain, up into Amel's face. The man was licking his lower lip as his hand continued to pull up the shift eyeing the hard plastron beneath. The smell of his breath heavy as it grew labored.
'I guess... it's actually... happening...' Mikey felt the tears of fear lace his face before his pants were pulled down the button popping off and the fabric slightly ripping. In a day or two it would mend itself like skin but it would be noticeable for the group... they would know that his body would be soiled. He would have allowed a sin upon himself to be committed. Their trust in him then would no longer be there... He would again be alone with no form of comfort from more abuse that Amel would obviously do to him.
Lowered to the dirt and rocky ground Michelangelo's legs were lifted up shivering at the feeling of Amel's tongue on his inner thigh, "Ah... you can voice out, you know that, right, kid?" Amel's tongue tailed up towards his tail making Michelangelo bite back any sound of pleasure or pain.
"I don't want to hurt you severely, Hamato, just a bit of suffering..." His legs were placed back down, wrapping around Amel's waist, before the man leaned over laying his full weight, suffocating weight, on Michelangelo's lean and thinner form. The small younger turtle stared up barely able to get a lungful of air into his lungs while Amel also gazed down with a sick twisted humours look.
The look was degrading even combining with the words made caused Michelangelo's skin to crawl, "You're a good quiet slut, you know that... I doubt you even know what the greatest of the Dawn's sins are." the man laughed sending the vibrations into Mikey's chest. "It's sex... having someone take you so roughly, violate your body and your mind. Their tongue inside your mouth..." Amel kissed Michelangelo again while his hand grabbing Michelangelo's throat. "Why don't we see how you break... If a Hamato breaks easily, I heard from books, it means the Dawns are meant to fall..."
Michelangelo quizzically looked at Amel his understanding lacking.
"Oh, they must have taken the books down when your father and mother were killed." Amel laughed, "The Hamato clan, one of the eight living family blood lines. So pure but so tainted."
The man sighed sitting up still straddling Michelangelo's legs, "Ah, now you've put me off my mood with such a depressing situation." He rolled onto his back next to Michelangelo with a pout, "And I was sooo going to make you feel good."
"How could it feel good when he won't enjoy the pleasure from it from the likes of a disgusting black as yourself?" The voice was low, fueled with fury causing Amel to tilt his head for his eyes to look up staring into the foreground as a dark blood red robed turtle came forward. A gun, nearly the size of his body, was trailing behind him. His eyes shown a deep crimson red before Michelangelo, seeing him once before, knew who this was.
Hamato Raphael. This was his older brother brother.
"I've been looking everywhere, Amel, for you scum riding ass!" the smile grew on his face as he stopped ten feet away from Michelangelo and Amel, the later turning over narrowing his eyes.
"Well well well," Amel's energy swirled through the air the pressure like chains strapping Michelangelo to the ground as his hand tried, struggling, to reach up to grab his neck almost as if something was strangulating him. His eyes never left Raphael's body though as the smile dropped replaced with rage. "I guess I was too slow this time... hm?"
"Oh, I think not... you see, the honor of my little brother isn't yours, whore." The gun was lifted up, like a feather even though it looked nearly the weight of a stone column... or twelve, before Michelangelo felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shifted and Donatello's smile greeted him.
"Wha-!" Amel looked between them both, "How did you get into my circle!"
Donatello lifted Michelangelo up into his arms the chuckle that left Donatello's mouth made Michelangelo's skin feel feverish as the weight of Amel's energy vanished.
"Simple," Donatello said, "I know all the powers a Dusk have. And you, foolish trickster, are no exception to that."