Disclaimer: TMNT are the property of Eastman, Laird, and Nickelodeon

A/N: Back to poor Raphie…

Helluva Bass

It might have been prudent in the beginning to have started a calendar of some sort. But, as Raphael had lost the number of days it had been since the fight with Karai, he didn't really see much point in it. And with each alternating punishment and meal that passed without rescue, he was glad he didn't have a growing field of tally marks to stare at..

The porridge which was brought to him twice a day was far from filling and fought him tooth and nail. But it went down. Subsequently, his trips back into the arena became far more bearable. Though he hadn't seen Karai since, there was no shortage of Foot willing to strike a few blows to their enemy. The fights were inane and brutal, lasting until sheer numbers and exhaustion won out. Meant to whittle away the pride which demanded a performance he could not fully execute.

Raph scowled at the thought, stirring his daily meal and eyeing a dark bruise spreading over his knee. His pads and belt had been cut away a few days ago; he supposed the intent was too make him feel exposed and vulnerable. Humans were obsessive about how they were covered. He just hated that the method worked.

He licked a raw scrape on his knuckles, made a face, and shoveled in the last spoonful of sludge. His throat convulsed so he tossed his nose upward, breathing deep until it decided to stay put.

"Yeesh," he growled, grabbing the water bottle. He glared at the camera and lifted the empty bowl. "Ya ain't got any salt for this crap?" The bowl rang off the cell door and went wavering to a stop across the room.

The red recording light blinked on.

Raph snorted and dropped the spoon over the side of the bed. He flopped onto the wobbly springs, one hand hooking behind his head, the other propping the water in the center of his chest plates. He glared up at the bare bulb until a familiar beat of boredom tugged at his eyes. His vision wavered, darkened along the edges, and he dropped his chin.

Weird, he usually stayed awake longer than this. He could run Die Hard through his head at least half-way before nodding off. His muscles relaxed into the tattered sheets. A content little sigh slid through his nose.

Then, trickling from behind his left ear, there was a whisper. You should be training…

He huffed. "Can it, Fearless. I'll do it later."

Whatever you say, Raph, came a patient reply.

The bottle toppled and doused his face and neck. He sputtered and sat up, looking around, blearily. "Leo? Donnie?" The tiny space stared back at him. Raph scooted back so he was sitting against the wall and pressed the heel of his palm over his brow. "Great. I'm goin' looney in this…" His legs were blurry. "Dump…"

The next conscious thought came when a gloved hand waved before his face. His eyes flicked up to a pair of Foot soldiers standing beside him. A leery taser was aimed at his face.

"I didn' hear a knock…"

One of the men straightened. "Are you going to play nice tonight?"

Raph's hazy eyes rolled to follow him and he suddenly spat out a giggle. He braced himself on his palms and dropped his head between his shoulders. The bed shook with his laughter. "I'm…I'm Raphael. I got an…attitude problem! I don't play well with…others." The last word came in a weak squeak before he buckled forward, catching his elbows on his knees and crowing at the floor.

He wasn't entirely sure why it was so funny…and hell if he didn't care.

The soldiers stood above him, stonily. One swore. "The doc used too much."

"She is not going to appreciate this," the other sighed. He reached forward and jabbed a finger into the solid muscle and sinew of the turtle's shoulder. A listless swat missed his hand completely. "Hey, you! Can you walk?"

Raph lunged to his feet, indignantly. "Pfffsh, can I walk? Do I look like a guy who can'…" He paused, staring between their heads. The first man nervously followed his gaze to the empty hall. His friend shoved him aside as Raphael toppled forward. The turtle's hands were useless at his sides as he smacked his face and chest off the cement.

The men looked at one another as a loud snore rumbled from the warrior.


In one sweep, the papers were gathered and slipped into a folder. Karai eased her notes into a sleek briefcase and looked into the two screens on the desk. Her associates were mirroring her actions.

"Gentlemen, as always, it has been a pleasure."

A jovial, tanned face on the left grinned. "Stay warm out there, y'hear, Miss Saki?"

"We're still on schedule for the conference in Denver, correct?" the other said.

"Of course, Mr. Jackson, all the arrangements have been made. Mr. Oritz…thank you for the concern. Until our next meeting?"

Jackson gave a curt nod and the screen went black. The elderly man leaned forward to close his computer and gave her a wink. "Take care of yourself, darlin'. You should get out of that office. Young lady like you shouldn' be stuck at work on a Friday nigh'."

Karai gave him a modest smile. "Actually, Mr. Oritz, I do have plans for this evening."

"Ah! Tha's what I like to hear, Miss Saki! Have some fun."

"Good night, Samuel." She flicked off her web cam and slipped into her jacket. Descending to the first floor, she passed the receptionist's desk with a sharp nod and swept out into the night. An icy November wind lashed at her hair. Her driver, with shoulder hunched against the onslaught, stepped forward to shield her as she slid into the car.

She smoothed her hair back and glanced to a silent figure. "The transport?"

The Foot bobbed his head, respectfully. "No incidents, Mistress. The creature remained unconscious through the duration of the move."

"And the other three?"

"They arrived at the warehouse two hours after our departure."

Karai shook her head with a mirthless laugh. "Donatello is a clever beast, there is no denying. I want constant surveillance on our computers. The slightest anomaly is to be reported. Leonardo cannot come so close again."

"Yes, Mistress."

She looked out into the night, scornfully, and they rode in silence. Traffice fell behind them and disappeared as they eased into a division where the building were dark and the civilians questionable. When the car parked, both the driver and soldier took a position at Karai's sides as she trotted up the steps of Raphael's new home.

A technician met them at the second story. "This way, madam." He led them into the depths of the building. Karai pulled a folder from her briefcase and dismissed the driver to take the case and her coat back to the car. Nodding to the technician, she and the Foot followed him into the room where Raphael had been taken.

He had been strapped down again, though he was upright on a lightly padded table. His wrists and ankles were shackled and broad, leather strap buckled his chest. The turtle looked up at the sharp pock-pock of her heels.

His pupils were huge and unfocused and he beamed from ear to ear. Karai's steps stuttered at the sight of it. The difference was astounding. The hardened warrior was stripped aside, revealing a younger soul. A pair of cords danced off his cheeks, running from the suctioned diodes at his temples. They connected just above his plastron and ran off to the side, ending at a squat, blue machine beside him. A generator…well, what had originally been a generator and had been given a severe make-over. It was to this machine that the technician went without a look at the prisoner.

Karai went before Raphael and he leaned forward, his glassy eyes gleaming. "Know what Mikey said? H-he said…" His voice shifted surprisingly light, "He said, 'This Ipod's gotta helluva bass!'" A heavy laugh blasted the air. "True, right?"

She looked to the technician. "Michelangelo?"

"Audio hallucination." He shrugged. "Dr. Chaplin said it might be a side effect to the water."

She smiled. "Then let us clear the fog, Mr. Davis." The technician hesitated and then flipped the switch. Raphael's laughter died instantly.

His eyes widened, knees snapping straight as his neck strained back. His fingers jerked and tightened into claws rather than fists. Sound could not slip beyond clamped jaws, but the jolt of pain and surprise could not be hidden in his irises. The machine went silent and Raphael collapsed against his restraints.

Short, wet breaths passed through his teeth and his nostrils flared. Karai gave him a gentle smile and stepped so he had to look at her. "How nice to see you do possess the ability to smile, Raphael."

Shock melted into a scowl. "Yer…frickin'…druggin'…"

"That's obvious, isn't it?"

"Cheat'a…" His voice rumbled low. "Ya cheated…in'na fight."

She stepped back, resting a finger across her lips, thoughtfully. "Is it considered cheating to level the playing field when pitted against a powerful opponent? Even with your little fast, Raphael, I could not have overpowered you. So yes, you were given a sedative to slow your reactions. But, really, is it so different from breaking the arm or leg of an enemy? I gave myself an edge, you just failed to rise to the challenge."

"Yeah...yeah, tha's called cheatin'…"

"Well, perhaps you'd find me more contrite had it been a matter of honor." Her long fingers reached to lightly rest on his shoulder. "But prisoners aren't extended such luxuries such as honor, are they?"

He snarled, his eyes darkening with wrath. She pushed away and opened her folder. "So, if you are finished with the complaints -"

"Yer food sucks, too. Ya gonna drug me, at least spike a frickin' steak or somethin'."

She ignored him and calmly cleared her throat. "We will begin Donatello's punishment. You've gotten a taste of it, already, but you'll want to hear the charges, yes?" She looked up into disdain. "Good. The crimes inflicted upon the Foot by Donatello Hamato include network hacking, espionage, arson, and the total destruction of my master's original stronghold."

"All that for li'l Don - rragh!" The machine buzzed as it kicked to life again, clattered for a moment, and fell still. Raph shook himself and glared at the pale technician. "I didn' hear…'er say go, jackass…"

"Electroshock for the electrician," Karai continued. She cocked her head. "Did it sting?"

"Nah, tickles," he spat. "Like gettin'…a kiss from Klunk."

Her head tipped. "Who is Klunk, Raphael?"

He looked up, sharply biting his tongue. Karai grinned as his cheeks darkened. "Don't worry, I'm sure the drugs are weakening some of your defenses. Something to watch for, though, you wouldn't want to slip on something important…something that would put your family at risk."

"Kiss my green, hairless -" His jaw slammed upwards as he smacked the back of his head off the table.

She waited until he hung panting a moment later. "How are your thoughts these days, Raphael? You've been my guest for over three weeks now." Surprise threaded across his pupils before vanishing behind loathing. "I was just curious if the unfairness of the situation has been fully realized. It's such a pity to see you like this. If life were fair, I would have four prisoners and it would Donatello standing there in your stead. I suppose it would only be natural for survival's sake, that you would begin to wish this fate to have fallen on Leonardo instead. Or Michel -"

"Go ta hell," he spat a second before the bolt rocked through him again.

She lifted her shoulders. "I don't think I will."

His shoulders bounced with the current still burning his veins. "What'ya…want, girlie? An apology? Fer Shredder? Y'ain't gonna get it…"

He blinked when her laughter broke the air. The technician and soldier exchanged a look. Karai's voice fell and she dabbed a finger at the corner of her eye. "Oh, Raphael, you astound me. I don't believe that black heart of yours could fester enough guilt to warrant an apology. Not one forged of sincerity, that is."

Her hand lashed out and caught the rubber cord on his chest. His head was jerked down. The bare wires at his temples dug into scorched flesh and he hissed. When his eyes fluttered open again, he met her sneer. "And even if you could, I'd shove it back down your throat. An animal's apology changes nothing. My father is still lost. I do not care if you feel the slightest remorse for your actions, Raphael." She jerked the cord again, "Or those of your brothers. What I require is a body to atone for the cruelty that Leonardo inflicted upon us. So spout hatred, swear revenege, beg for my forgiveness, your words fall upon deaf ears. There is no restitution in remorse, so you will continue to bear my judgement. Do you understand?"

His eyes seared into hers.

"Good boy." She released him and stepped back, straightening her blouse. "Again."

The generator rattled and he was thrown upright. His fisted knuckles turned white. Defined tendons and muscles in his neck lifted against his scales. One seething eye cracked enough to glare at the woman. As she watched him writhe, serenity returned to her.

"Davis? Take him to level four."

"But Madam, you requested the process to be slow…"

"Four, Davis."

The dial clicked higher and the generator shifted into a deeper drone. Pain laced across the turtle's face. Karai smiled when his shoulders buckled into the table. His teeth wrenched apart.

The driver, who had retreated to wait in the street, blanched at the guttural scream that reverberated from the building.


* So, Karai's slightly off her rocker. But what's a TMNT torture story without the electroshock? Raph's delirium is my answer to Vacant Houses' challenge.

* Your thoughts please?