A/N: Oh Leo. *shakes head*
Chapter 10 -Trade-
~~~
Donatello raised his head, peering blearily around.
Typical, he thought. White walls. White noise. Chains. Would it kill them to paint the room a different color? Or buy a CD of music? Something… anything but this cursed static would be an improvement. Shell, they could play elevator music. Though I suppose it wouldn't be torture if it were pleasant…Speaking of… I wonder how long it will be before they come for me? He swallowed, trying to ignore the metallic taste of blood.
Hey, room service! What's a turtle got to do to get a bottle of water around here? Ok, Don, just don't think about it. Capture psychology 101. The more I think about water, the thirstier I'll feel. So think of something else. Like how to get out of here. Ok, my hands are chained. That stinks. And they've taken my bo. And my belt. I've still got my mask. I wonder why they didn't take that? Oh well. Ok, how can I use my… mask and my… umm… feet to get out of here?
He stood up, stretching his legs. His shoulders protested the movement, even though it took the heavy weight of his body off his arms. He couldn't stand up straight for long, his head whirled and his legs ached. A sharp pain in his left foot told him the last kick had snapped something in his ankle.
It was worth it, thought Donatello with grim satisfaction. That guy went down like a sack.
The door swung open so suddenly, Don stood up, gasping as the muscles in his shoulders and legs screamed at the change in position. He stood as straight as he was able, glaring at the Foot soldiers who came into the room.
What, only four? They must think I'm easy to handle. I'll teach them otherwise.
He half-crouched, preparing to lash out as they approached. Three stood back, while one came closer, stopping just outside of striking range. To Don's utter shock, he gave a short, formal bow.
"Mistress Karai has ordered that you be released, Turtle," intoned the man.
Don's eyes narrowed. Another Foot soldier entered the room, carrying Donatello's bo, knee and elbow pads, and belt.
"Your things will be returned to you. We have come to escort you to the exit."
"What kind of trick is this?" asked Donatello.
The Foot approached, and he tensed, ready to leap at them.
The soldier stopped, considering him. "I wish to unlock the chains," he said. "Do not attack me, Turtle, or Karai may change her mind about letting you go."
Donatello glanced at him, glowering, but allowed the man to approach. He held himself tense as the black-clad ninja produced a key, and unlocked the shackle from his left arm. The soldier backed up quickly, watching him, but Donatello didn't attack. With a short nod, the man moved to the other side, unlocking the shackle from his other arm. Donatello crouched, taking a defensive stance, but the Foot made no move to attack him. They simply waited.
This is surreal, thought Donatello. What the shell is going on here?
"Follow me." The Foot who'd unlocked the chains started toward the door. The others filed out before him, and Donatello, seeing no real alternative, followed.
He was led through a maze of hallways, past several groups of black masks who stood tense, ready to attack, but no one laid a hand on him. He was allowed to walk along the halls, guarded only by the small entourage of soldiers.
"You will leave. Now. Never return. My Mistress orders it." The Foot soldier bowed briefly to Donatello, and held out his things.
Don gathered up his weapon and equipment, and stepped back. He slipped one arm through the straps on his pads, and his belt, leaving the other hand free to carry his bo. The soldiers backed away, taking defensive stances.
"There is the door." The Foot pointed. "Leave."
"What kind of trick is this?" asked Don again, backing toward the door.
No way are they going to just let me walk off.
"Go. Now." The soldier stood, his arms crossed over his chest.
Well, if you insist.
Donatello turned and walked through the door, expecting an attack at any moment. None came, and he stepped out into a back alley. The door closed firmly behind him. He was free.
***
Leonardo watched the screen, tense, his eyes narrowed, watching for any sign that the image could be a trick. He saw his brother stand, looking back at the closed door with extreme confusion for a moment before disappearing down the alley.
Don's safe.
Something in Leo's chest unclenched. Bowing his head, he unfastened his belt. He lowered the katanas from his shell, still sheathed, bringing them around to his front. Wrapping the leather belt around the sheathed blades, he reverently laid the bundle aside on a low table.
The woman watched, her eyes narrowed, her stance casual, belying the tension that hung thick in the room. Leo slipped off his knee and elbow pads, and laid them aside. Finally, with a deep indrawn breath, he reached up and untied his mask. He laid it over the weapons.
"My things will be returned to my family," he said, looking at the woman. It was a command.
She bristled, but nodded. "As you wish, Leonardo." Karai pushed a button on the ebony desk. A door swung open behind the turtle.
Leonardo didn't move as Foot soldiers poured into the room, surging forward to grab his arms. A low growl escaped his throat, but he didn't resist.
"Take our… guest… to his cell," said Karai, allowing the smallest of smiles to cross her features as Leonardo was dragged from the room.
***
Raphael was barely keeping up with Michelangelo. Mikey was on a mission. He'd screwed up, and he knew it. He wasn't about to allow his brothers to pay the price.
"Come on, Raph. We've gotta get there before Leo does something dumb!"
"I'm comin', Mikey. Keep yer shell on." The truth was, Raphael's leg was paining him. The crude bandage he'd managed to bind around it was not supporting it the way one of Don's would have, and the wound probably should've been stitched, anyway.
If Leo hadn't been such a shell-head, this would be a regular rescue mission, go in, get Don, and get out, instead of a game of tag across da blasted city.
"Donny!" Michelangelo's shriek cut through Raphael's thoughts.
"What's yer problem, Mikey?" he yelled, irritated at being startled.
"It's Don! Come on!" Mikey was swinging down a fire escape.
Raphael snarled and headed down after his youngest brother. Whatever made Michelangelo yell their brother's name like that; Raph knew it couldn't be good.
If they've hurt Don, I'm gonna…
He dropped lightly to the pavement below, and stared. Donatello was upright for a moment before the orange and green blur that was Michelangelo launched itself into his arms, nearly knocking him to the ground.
"Donny, we thought Karai had ya, are you ok, bro? I am so glad to see you Don! Now we gotta go and find Leo…"
Raphael took two steps, reached up, and yanked orange mask tails, cutting off the stream of chatter.
"Don! You ok? What happened? We lost ya in da fight…"
"I was captured," said Donatello, sounding slightly winded from Mikey's exuberant embrace. "And they just… let me go."
"They what?"
"It was weird. They brought me to a door, gave me back my stuff, and let me go."
"What da shell…" Raphael was staring at his brother as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Karai just knew we were gonna go in there and kick her sorry butt if she didn't let ya go…" Michelangelo whooped.
"Somet'in ain't right. Shut up, Mikey. They didn't say nothin' to ya, Don? They didn't stick a… I dunno, a tracker or a bomb or anyt'ing under yer shell, did they?"
Donatello considered, rolling his shoulders against the edge of his shell. "I don't think so… I wasn't out for long. I just can't figure it out. Could they have infected me with something?" He stepped back from his brothers, alarmed, but Raphael was already shaking his head.
"I don't think so, Don. Listen, did you see any sign of Leo?"
"No. I didn't see anyone until those Foot showed up and escorted me to the door," said Don, his eye-ridges rising. "Why would I have seen Leo? Was he planning to come in after me?"
"I t'ink Fearless was plannin' on tradin' himself fer you," said Raph quietly. "He wanted ta go an' talk ta Karai, but Sensei told him ta wait…"
"You think Leonardo… Oh, man. I never thought… Oh no…" Donatello's face had gone very pale. "We've got to go back. We've got to get him back. He can't do this… We can't let him…" Donatello half-turned.
Raphael grabbed his arm. "Don, wait. We gotta plan. We can't jus' go runnin' in there. She'll kill Leo if we do."
"What'll she do to him if we don't?"
"Guys!" Michelangelo stood, his hands on his shell, glaring. "Are we gonna stand here arguing in an alley, or are we gonna go back to the Tower and bust our bro outta there?"
"Mike's right," said Donatello, shaking his head. "Raph, we've got to get back to the Lair. I'll need some equipment…
"We ain't got dat kinda time, Don. Leo ain't got dat kinda time. We've gotta come up wit' a plan, and move now." Raphael's golden glare was at full power. "I've had enough o'dis. Dat Foot's messed wit' us one too many times. I say it's time we took 'em down."
"I agree, Raph, but we've got to be smart about it. It's the Foot Tower for goodnessakes. We've got to regroup, got to come up with a smart way to do this…"
"There is no smart way to do it, Don! It's a fortress. How're we gonna get in there?"
"I know someone who might be able to help," said Don quietly. "She knows her way around, knows where the cells are. She might even be able to get us in." He looked at Michelangelo. "We're going back to the Lair. We've got to get Austin."