She ran against the breeze of the brisk yet heavy evening, the universe weighing down on the goosebumps that blanketed her skin, and her heart beating hard enough to only increase the rapid flashing image of his fallen form before her eyes. She hadn't even thought of entering the dreaded building since she had run away to live on the rooftops with her love, but it was only close proximity away and she was desperate to find help anywhere that she could seek it.
Or more so, where she could use the venom in her heart to force a caretaker to their aide.
She was a strike of lightning into their doorway, produced by the storm of her life and the thunder in her head. As much as she desired to sensate the destruction of glass from the force of her electricity, she knew she had to keep her cool and remain stealthy if she wanted to achieve her aspiration. Luckily, Shredder was still on his over-stayed trip to Japan so she did not have to face the concern of him exposing her infiltration. His mascots were no match for her flying form, a breeze of a shadow through the darkest pits of the night.
The medic ward was not a place she often visited, as she was never really involved in any major accidents that she could not handle herself. That was before she became aware that her entire existence itself had been a mistake, as for the false roads she has crashed upon and the wrong shots that she has triggered, but somehow all of those mistakes were excused with the fitting of imperfections in the perfections that existed inside him, symmetry of a perfect pair, a foreign concept to her throbbing heart.
She could never let the world harm her, for her hatred of the world had seized when she saw the world in him.
Her eyes dented when she caught sight of the familiar man, equipped with the average Foot clothing but including much further knowledge, knowledge that was crucial to Leo's life or death. It had been a while since her passion as a kunoichi was exercised, and despite the dire circumstances that had led her to it she couldn't help but feel a little bit more herself again.
She struck like a cheetah pouncing at its prey, the same fire in her eyes and speed in her intentions. The medic's eyes widened as he was caught by surprise; one second, analyzing a new form of blood tissue and the next, being held down by Shredder's runaway-traitor kid with a blade at his throat.
"Hey, Jeffy-boy. Long time no see," she smirks, making sure to keep her snarky persona even through her emotion terror, but a person who studied human bodies knew instantly that this was not the same girl at all.
"Karai! I was under the assumption that you had decided to depart from the Foot Clan Union! What is it you are seeking?" the man asks, a wave of nervousness in his voice.
"Oh I did, Jeffrey, and you better believe it. Yet I have a little bit of a favor to ask you for, and by that I mean a demand. Do I make myself clear?" she continues.
"You are in no place to be making demands, girl," he tells her in defense.
"Oh really? I wouldn't get so confident, considering you're the one resting under the blade that you very well know I am willing to use. That's not even to mention all the dirt I have behind you – have you assumed I have forgotten that affair you participated in a few years ago?" she tells him.
"You spoiled brat. What is it that you request, Karai?" he asks.
"Someone who I love who you wouldn't want me to is dying, and I need you to save him. Keep in mind that if he dies under your control, you and your family will be joining him," she threatens.
He sighs, immediately figuring out who she was referring to. "Karai, I am a medic, not a magic worker. What is to happen if I cannot do the saving?"
"Then you better try extra hard, shouldn't you? I would suggest boosting the speed here, time doesn't last forever," she tells him.
The Foot medic sighs in defeat, chasing the headstrong girl to her place on the rooftop she reserved to be hers. As expected, Leonardo lay pale and unconscious with blood and saliva showering his face, a lot smaller, frailer and sadder than the man remembered him to be.
"We've been stupid and fucking around with cocaine and he overdosed. Fix him!" she commands.
"If I'm going to be able to aid his chance at survival, I am going to have to take him back to my infirmary at Foot headquarters. Are you willing to take that chance?" he asks her.
She closes her eyes and nods affirmatively. "Anything it will take. If anyone gets in the way of his cure, I'll be sure to give them a quick and thoughtless death, no matter who they are."
She grunts when the man attempts to pick him up, like the fierce protection of a lion over her goods. Her expression softened immensely when she took his frail body into her arms, enough adrenaline and the burning power of love to carry him herself, hoping that his ice cold flesh feels her warmth.
"Do not worry, my koibito," she whispers, "We'll make you all better."
X
The mist that moisturized the air to be just an inch more skin crawling than usual, the overcast environment seeping into the thunder that clasped in their minds. It could sort of be imagined like an everlasting strike of lightning intertwining with the heat of the flames, all of the storm and the heat that rampaged upon this universe uniting as one.
Donatello was solemn as he sat upon the exit of the sewers on an old abandoned rooftop, feeling the sting of the breeze flow against the black hoodie he his inside while he pondered on the differences that lay within day and night. The last time that he had found himself in the daylight, he was a child of the sun and flourished under the feeding of the rays, some foolish sense of optimism taking control and appreciation for all of the puzzles that lay within the labyrinth that is to be alive; so dreamlike in contrast of the different shaded passion that floated through him as he was tucked and blanketed under the black sheet of stars. The sheet of stars that brought breezy shocks cold enough to burn you, the sheet of stars that just may work as the spark of a match that ignited the burning rage that has the power to convert a person into a bullet.
For not so long ago, he was content enough only with his update in state of mind, enjoying his memories and the feeling of car riding and nature and the presence of those he loved. Yet now, he was left with the power of taking a life in his grasp and all of his memories and joys and morals were blinded deep into his core by the sort of over protectiveness that fuels hatred, and he suddenly completely understood what Raphael had referred to.
Ride or die meant ride or die, he supposed.
His thought was interrupted by the presence of his immediate older brother, his gaze also drowning amongst the sheet of stars above them. Donatello shivered as a response to his brother's turn, wondering if it was possible for eyeballs to shiver. Perhaps, it only seemed that way from their increasing size and the unique reflection inside of them that had never been worn before.
The eyes of someone who has killed for love before, and someone who will kill for love again.
Perhaps the fear in his eyes was what made it shocking when his hand rested upon Donnie's shoulder, the weakest form of comfort that's impact resembled the world's sharpest hit.
Or, just maybe, it was Donatello himself who was something like being afraid.
Yet the two boys' expressions were nothing compared to that of their friend, whose tight grasp on his hockey stick only gave the slightest encouragement to emerge into the night.
He was typically a spirit of passion, ambition, and courage; headstrong to any opponent and bravely outspoken. He was a fighter by nature, uncommonly haunted by fear and constantly energized by enough spark to maintain the lifestyle that he did. He would expect his best friends to be stricken by the anomaly that stood before them, recoiling in fright and so unusually small. However, something told him that they were expecting it, and they both knew that they would feel the same way.
He shuddered and his legs gave out, kneeling in vulnerability before having the opportunity to continue, the anxiety taking over. What would happen if he would fail? What if he would chicken out, lose the emotional strength that pushed him to do it? What would happen afterwards – where would he go? Was he meant to fall to a similar fate?
His fears are pounded away by the stretched hand out before him, two familiar faces looking down at him. Faces that were angry, solemn and prepared for a field of violence that they were much too young to be a part of, faces that were gentle and supportive and protective. Faces that he loved, and that loved him back. Faces that were family, the only family that he had left.
"Are you ready, Case?" Raph asks, his voice soft, his voice loving.
Casey bites his lip hard enough to remind him that he was here and he contained the ability to feel, resting his hand along that of his best friend, signaling with an affirmative nod. He stands and wraps his arms around the shoulders of both of them, inhaling a deep breath. "Alright guys. Now or never right?"
They both nod, offering their hands to the center.
"Was it this, some kind of all for one and one for all type of thing?" Donnie teases.
"Whatever you want it to be, D," Casey nervously giggles back, swinging the bat into his grasp and beginning the walk.
The situation was a dire taste of liberation, but they had to admit that the scene of battle felt quite good to return to.
The rugged edges of Manhattan were quite different from the center, the broken neighborhoods and heavy scent of crime flashing warnings around them. It was not surprising that this was where Casey lived, and why he was so accustomed to the way of the streets.
"You guys still remember the plan, right?" Casey reassures as they land parallel to the old home, preparing to dive.
They both nod, giving his hands a pump of reassurance and confidence, and the sweat painting his forehead is an ironic contradiction of the audacious smirk on his face. "Let's do this."
Like his trembling fingers hit the signal of a button, the two ninjas had disappeared into the shadows that chased them, taken by a gust of the wind. Casey melts the tingling in his body with one deep breath before opening the door, wondering how it felt to have a home that didn't feel like it was swallowing him whole.
He raised his eyebrow in observation as he slowly continued deeper into the realm, keeping his hand lightly rested on the bat held in his gear sash. He felt his friends' presence with him, and although their talent made it too difficult for a mere street fighter like him to know their exact location, he knew that they were not far. You only had to be a best friend to know that much.
He stood in the aphotic hollowness of the dingy and uncared for kitchen, surrounded by empty beer bottles and the smell that was starting to make him feel sick to his stomach. His smirk that had converted to a trembling quiver had now morphed into a venomous growl, the sensing of the monster's presence replacing his fear with hatred, an obsessive craving for revenge.
"I know you're in here. You ain't hiding from me. Show yourself!" he shouts, succumbing to one of the wooden kitchen chairs and using every mixed forced that ran in his body to conceal his acerbity.
"Well dandy, if it isn't my good ole boy Case!" a boy replies, creeping from the shadowed corner. "I knew you wouldn't go too long without giving a visit to ya old man."
The man sloppily falls on the matching chair, a half empty bottle of liquor in his hand. "What made you decide to come around? Your other little gang of dirt bags give up on ya?"
Casey sighs, balling his fists at an attempt to keep his cool. "I just wanted to talk to ya is all."
Meanwhile, the other two zipped around the house light blades full of light, their fingers working quickly to launch Donnie's deadly invention, only deadly enough to save their lives. The tiny red lights twinkled to display where they had been placed, blinking faster and faster as their limit drained out.
"Do you ever wonder about what is it that defines humanity?" Casey continues.
"What the fuck you on about?" his father replies.
"You know, what it is in living things that divides them as people or beasts; what parts of us are made of emotion, or made of instinct. Which parts of us trigger both."
"It ain't rocket science, idiot," the drunken man begins.
"I ain't talking about physiology, or appearance or how we came into this world or nothing like that. I'm talking about our souls, the real part of us that marks us different from the rest. How do you define humanity?"
"I ain't listening to your poetic shit, faggot. If you just gonna keep looking at me like that you best get yo ass out of here," the man warns, and for the first time ever his slam against the creaking table doesn't even make the boy flinch.
"I ain't here to kick it and talk about my dreams or nothing like that with you, old man. I'm just longing for the answer to one more question, a question that's been sucking at me for years. Do you got the nerve to consider yourself human?" Casey asks, and even though his insides are burning and revolting with every emotion you could ever dig out of his soul, it is hard to tell he is feeling anything at all.
"Of course I'm human, ya little shit. Just because you pretend your little friends are don't mean you can start questioning basic science," he says.
"You're incorrect," Casey answers, almost so deep in the void that it even startles the drunk. "They are human; they feel love, pain, remorse. After growing up with you as a role model I've always been trying to figure out what it means to be human, and it was just when I met them that I found out. You don't feel love, pain or remorse, do you?"
"I didn't teach you to have feelings, faggot boy. I think I outta beat your ass, you keep running your mouth," he threatens, but the boy's stance does not falter.
"I ain't never gonna be scared of you again, son of a bitch. You ain't human, no matter what you and your stupid ass biology says, you ain't fucking human. You don't know how to feel, do you? Only capable of eating up more and more to continue your miserable existence," the boy's voice begins to waver.
"Shut your mouth, Casey!" he shouts, smashing the glass bottle again the dresser to give a sharp weapon, the shards of glass flying and sheltering tiny cuts over the headstrong boy's face.
"You don't feel, you don't. You didn't even care, did you? It didn't even phase you when you killed her. She was just a little girl, damnit, and your little girl! How the fuck can you take the life from an innocent child that you brought into this world and still have enough guts to call yourself human?" Casey says, and alone close enough to hear him can taste the venom coming from his mouth.
"Get the fuck over that bitch, it was three years ago. I couldn't afford her so I got rid of her, and you should be damn lucky I didn't get rid of you too. You ungrateful little shit," he says.
Casey flies over the table and slams onto the man, ignoring the availability of the broken glass. The man isn't surprised at his guts, for he has attacked several times before. Yet even he had to admit he felt taken back by the shining darkness in his eyes.
"SHE WAS EVERYTHING I HAD! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! YOU TOOK MY BABY SISTER FROM ME, THE CHILD WHO YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT, JUST SO YOU COULD HAVE MORE AND MORE OF YOUR FUCKING BOOZE! I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL SPLIT YOUR BODY OPEN AND TEAR APART EVERYTHING YOU HAVE! I'LL FUCKING OBLITERATE YOU!" he shouts, releasing the prospect of control.
Donnie and Raph stop in place to exchange panic stares, wondering why the hell Casey would step off of the plan. Yet remember seeing Mikey after someone had hurt him, they completely understood.
"So much for stealth," Raph sighs as they both jump down into action.
"What the fuck!" the man shouts, jolting his glass shard aimlessly. They soon disassemble, Donnie holding onto Casey and Raph holding onto the man, blood flowing from a deep cut in his shoulder where he had been struck by the shard.
"This wasn't the plan, Casey! You're gonna get yourself killed!" Donnie shouts.
"I don't care! I don't care what happens to me, I just want him dead!" he shouts in return.
"It's such a pleasure to meet your precious friends, Casey. Wouldn't it be fun if I took them away too?" the man smirks.
"Good luck with that, Slime ball," Donnie says, striking him with the sharp end of his staff just enough to get him distracted for Raph to restrain him.
"Knock yourself out, Case. We'll be here to back ya up," Raph says, backing up.
Casey laughs sadistically at the man's helpless form, tied to two poles attached to the wall. "You're disgusting, fucking sick. I have not rested for three years, never being able to keep both eyes closed unless I had the satisfaction of taking your life."
"You wouldn't kill me, not like that. You wouldn't be pussy enough to kill me all tied up," the man spits.
"Why the hell would I have mercy for you? Angel was helpless and without defense when you killed her, wasn't she?" Casey shouts, grabbing the man's collar.
"You wouldn't kill your own father, the only family you have left," the man says, and for the first time ever fear is evident in his tone.
"YOU AREN'T MY DAMN FAMILY! I do have a family, my family is in this room right now, and it sure as hell ain't you," Casey shouts, swinging the bat into his grasp.
"Casey! No!" the man shouts for mercy, and something about the way it sounded made the boy freeze in his tracks. That took him back to the night that he was awoken by Angel's cries, cries that sounded exactly the same way.
"SON OF A BITCH!" Casey yells, swinging the weapon without mercy with more force than he knew his body could carry, and even after he dented the man's skull he continued to strike.
"Case, we gotta get out of here! The bombs are gonna go off any second now!" Raph shouts, both he and Donnie grabbing Casey by the hands and swinging him violently out of the house, the bloody bat falling behind. The three continued to run to the next block until the fell over on the impact of the blow behind them, blowing the house into unrecognizable pieces and filling the sky with a rainfall of ashes.
Casey stares at the smoke an orange sky from the same place he fell on the cement, all of the rage vanquished into a small, terrified child. As soon as Donnie put his arms around him he began to cry, and when Raph joined he began to sob. The three boys stayed like that for a while, holding the sobbing boy in the middle.
"C'mon brother, it's time to go home," Raph says, the way he would talk to any of his brothers after they were hurt.
They continued to sandwich him between them as they walked home, and Casey had never felt safer than he did when he was in-between his two favorite people in the world.
Maybe this is what family felt like.
X
She was stumbling in the midst of the dark entanglements, running endlessly off the edge of the world and back and falling deeper and deeper into the abyss every time that she reached out for the light above her. This is how it seemed, at least; for the desperate energy draining out of the hole in her head made her escape more and more urgent with every passing second, and her frustration only grew deeper once she hit the realization that no matter how far she ran and how loud she screamed nobody was going to hear her.
She didn't feel so alone, because even though it was obscure and blurry in her state of immurement she could always hear them talking to her, always feel their touch just through the force of the spirit. He came and talked to her every night, the melody of his voice feeling like a blanket tucking over her, savoring her from all of the pain she was drowning in during this lethargic confinement. She wanted so badly to hold him, to feel the goosebumps on his body with the tips of her fingers and to make sure that he is okay. The energy he radiated was much more colorful now, more enlightened and full of all the life that was powering hers, and nothing soothed the vexatious state of mind she was trapped in more. However, the disdaining news of all other occurrences have stained her streak of optimism, her helplessness in all of it really setting down deep enough to make her scream, scream until her lungs gave out even if she couldn't feel her lungs anymore.
Even if she was disconnected to the body that housed her, locked and chained solely in the deepest realm of her mind where she felt she would be locked in a sleep for the rest of eternity, a sleep not deep enough to disconnect her from the world that she could no longer touch.
She had lost grasp of the time, endless ticking swarming through her head – any shot she could give at attempting to understand what was going on. Her vision had been taken from her, replaced with a far keener sense of hearing; a far keener sense of feeling. The last night she had been conscious lay in loop in her head, playing over and over again and making her feel smaller with every push that it gave her. The monster was still out there, his memory chasing her endlessly around in the circles of her psych-reality, following her with an even more terrifying fact – the predator had not been exposed, and Mikey was still endangered. Her baby brother was hurting; experiencing one of the most agonizing of atrocities and the only person he had confided in to save him was locked up here, unable to do anything. The very thought was eating her alive, tearing her body and mind up from the middle hoping that maybe the stress of it all could cause her to explode. Maybe if she could burst, she could possibly get out of here, the flame burning her out of the black she was drowning in.
She shuddered in terror as she sensed the awful spirits reaching out to her, and she wished that Donnie was here to comfort her. Wasn't he usually around this time of night, consecutively? Donnie would never be late; he is approximate with everything. Had something happened to him? Is he warm, or safe or okay?
The overwhelming paranoia was interrupted by the shadows catching up to her, striking her with warning. The exactly same gust of wind was familiar to her in the most frightening of ways – it signaled that the storm was on its way, a gust that none of them were prepared for, not even after the casualties that they've endured.
A warning that told her they were to lose everything soon, they were to be finished as the ruins of a well written tragedy that would strike the end of their tale.
A warning that they needed to hear, and that she had the inability to tell them.
She screamed as hard as her voice would allow her to, straining until she withered in pain from the exhaustion of it all, pushing to the breaking point of being heard.
Yet in the physical realm, all that came from her was an assortment of groans and slurring, her body thrashing violently in fear without his hands to soothe her. In the physical realm, she may have crashed herself enough for her eye to sliver open, the sliver turning into a breakthrough of panic and a deep breath as she flies upward, wincing at the sensation of feeling being inside her own body. Yet even though her seeing was distorted, she was aware that the room was completely isolated, silent enough to hear the buzz that came along with the void of nothingness. She tried to scream again, tried to remember what it felt like to feel the air sweep into her longs but all that came out was a worn out gasp, taking enough energy to knock her back into the pit of unconsciousness. She fell down the maze and into the core of vacancy once more, losing touch with her taste of reality and succumbing back into the realm of nothingness that she had grown so familiar with subsiding in.
She had been able to reconnect for only a mere second, and began to feel more aware of her surroundings. She would break free from these restraints soon and awaken completely, and then she would find justice for the broken little family.
Until then, she had no choice but to remain here and try over and over for her liberation.
All alone, for just a little longer.
X
Karai lay solemnly against the wall, clicking her fingernails against the floor to avoid the company of silence. She trusted her old companion to care for Leo correctly, for she knew that he would not dare the risk of facing the consequences. However, at the end of her headstrong aspiration she understood that some things were just out of their control, and she always knew that if she would lose him she would leave by his side with no second thought.
Her nerves jumped when the door standing open, the medic awaiting for her response. He was taken aback at the fact that she appeared so intimidating, a sign of weakness that Oroku Karai was definitely not known for displaying. It was insane what love can do to a person, how it can flip them from the inside out and fizz their personality into metamorphosis, how it can take the strongest warrior's spirit and break it into the most innocent if vulnerabilities.
"What's the news?" she asked him, her voice small and shaky and almost even terrified, a complete lack of the typical spunk of attitude that lay in her voice.
He sighs, noticing how she began to tremble when he lay a hand on her shoulder. "He's okay, Karai. If he takes it easy for a while and you make sure to take care of him, everything should be alright. In fact, he's awake now and he was startled to see me but he hasn't said anything. You can go see him, and try to beat it as soon as possible. Wouldn't want us getting caught," he informs her.
The pigment of her face adjusts as the words seep into her, her hazel eyes dilated into thin air. She jumps up and wraps her arms around his shoulders with laughter full of absolute joy, shocking him enough almost to make him wince. Karai was not one for affection, under any circumstances. Why was she suddenly so open to it now?
"Thank you, Jeffery, thank you so much. I will forever be grateful to you," she tells him, leaving him perplexed in the abandoned hallway before spinning inside the room.
Her lover was laying under the white sheets, his eyes staring blankly at the wall but his face turning once she enters the sanctuary. He was pale and frail and tortured, but the most beautiful thing that she's ever seen.
"K-Karai?" he asks, raspy and barely audible.
She walks over to him slowly and rests her fingers delicately along his prominent jawline, cringing at the low temperature of his skin. "Baby..."
He holds his hand over hers against his cheek, stroking a finger to wipe a stray tear off of her face. She uses that as the signal to longue on top of him, digging her head into his shoulder and sobbing relentless. Leo laughs ironically at first as he holds her, and soon he begins to cry too, clinging tighter to her racketing frame as he embracing the fear of what he went through, of what he has become.
"It was so scary, oh god it was so scary. I could only feel the heartbeat and the blood and I thought my veins had all popped loose and I knew that I was going to die being known as nothing but a selfish tweaked out fool," he cries, "Why the hell am I so fucking stupid? I should've listened, I shouldn't have been such a goddamn asshole!"
"Shh," she soothes him, gentle caressing his torso and kissing the side of his face. "It's okay, Leo. You survived, and it isn't too late to turn things around," she says, grabbing both sides of his face, "you survived, you survived! Oh god Leo, I thought I lost you! I thought you were gone and it was all my fault!"
He holds her closer to him and soothes her while they both cry out the trauma of the night's events, all of it catching up to them and reminding them that even under the dark lifestyle that they've fell under they were still only kids; and kids can only take so much.
"It's alright, my love, everything is okay now. Everything is going to be okay, alright? I'm here and I'm not going to leave you, not ever," he tells her.
She leans in to kiss him, and finds it funny how the touch contrasts so much to when she had kissed him months ago. At the time, she wasn't sure if it was a product of lust or of a longing to feel like someone loved her, but she did know that it was out of selfish intentions. Yet after such a bridge of time it was so opposing that she had put her entire will to live in his unstable hands, and she would do anything that ever could be imagined in the universe if it was for him. It was something even further past love, enough for her to be able to kiss him for the reason that when her lips were touching is she felt alive again.
They seemed to burn as one single spark when they continued to kiss each other, the complete bliss they shared marking away all of the fear and resentment and regrets, replacing it solely with love.
She felt her heart swarm with warmth and love every time her eyes returned to him she fell in love all over again. He had so much potential, so much inner beauty; and she wanted him to make it in this world, no matter what it was going to take.
"Leo, do you think you can promise me something?" she says, slightly pulling her lip from his.
"Anything, anything in the world," he replies instantly.
"If anything were to happen to me that caused me not to be here anymore, would you promise me that you'll keep living for the both of us? You know, make a life so good that I can even feel it in death?" she asks, taking him by surprise.
"I do not ever wish to remain on this world without you," he replies affirmatively.
"Leonardo, listen to me," she says, "It's not like I'm planning on kicking the bucket anytime soon or anything, it's just…do you agree that we are an entity together, you and I?"
"I do," he says nervously.
"I am just looking for reassurance, because my soul isn't going to rest again until I can know that if something were to happen to one of us our entity would live on – on earth and in the spirit plane. No matter how painful it would be to not be physically together, we would never be separated because we would live on together where it is really important, embroidered in each other's souls," she tells him.
He sighs as he ponders, grasping her hand tightly at the thought of losing her. "Okay, Karai, I promise. Can you promise me something too?"
"Anything," she replies.
"Can we go home tomorrow? You and I – to our real home?" he asks.
She smiles and kisses him tenderly, snuggling into his neck. "Of course we will."
X
The match was only captivating a mere spark, not enough to strike a kill but quite enough to seed utter destruction; a form of art that kept the misery of life so entertaining. It almost brought him a sense of joy to run his fingertip around the small flickering warmth, the ease of the burning exciting the sense in his body that would generate the destruction he was to soon cast about.
He was so intrigued by destruction that he was in love with watching it all come together, and even more in love to be the one to plant it. Of course, he didn't sprout it, but all best predators will target the most crippled and vulnerable of prey. The spreading of his opportunity filled every inch of his body with glee, for all of the pieces to press for ready for the final strike that would rip this beautiful, unique little family into shreds. He had all of them where he wanted them; the father lost and under his reasonable control, the oldest falling apart under his hand, the other two on the bridge of absolute insanity and the youngest with a broken spirit. They had become weakened threads at the tune of his needle, and as long as the psychic girl was out he had nothing to worry about, no one to stand in the way of the best part of his project.
He used the original match to spark four more, twisting them in and out of his fingertips and smiling when the heat struck his rough skin. All of them gleamed so blossoming, shining in the moist crepuscule that was his residence and reminding him of the only shine of excitation that powered his existence. The photographs surrounding him were all so beautiful, the crimson blood painting the aspect of the universe to be so captivating, the very thought that the superiority he contained thanks to the gift of his mind gave him the power to seize control of the entire universe, grab each of the weaklings and crunch them for his own nourishment.
It had been quite a while since he had begun this project, and it was just about time to finish it. They seemed to be all at the point of breaking, and regardless of Donatello's actions at his next session this would be the right time to strike. It worked sort of like a domino effect; once the weakest one is ripped apart from the pact, the stronger ones will fall weak too.
The Psychologist admired again his collection of photographs, of his projects before and after the final effect had taken place. Beside them, he had already put up photographs of the new family, which very so happened to be his favorite of all the projects yet. He held one raggedy photo of all of them together and allowed the five matches to cross its path, laughing hysterically at their distorted faces and the way that their smiles began the gradual decay into nothingness. Before he knew it he was leaning on his bed laughing his guts out, thinking about how beautiful it would be to look at there's.
Pulling the kitchen knife from under the pillow, he traces his burnt fingertips across it gently, giving it a loving kiss. "It's almost time, my dear, dear friends."
"The adversity is coming."