Yays! This now has become my longest story ever! If you're me, that's a pretty neat accomplishment. And we're not even done yet! I still have plenty of pain and suffering to inflict on our boys (and girls). No worries.
I'm glad people have been enjoying this. This one's for everybody who has said such encouraging things to me along the way!
(Blah blah blah pretend I put the proper disclaimer in here blah blah blah)
Enjoy!
"What's happening?" Raph bellowed as he rounded a corner so quickly he almost rolled the truck.
"Donatello touched my mind in panic," Splinter said fiercely. Beside him, Leonardo could barely keep his seat, not from his brother's driving, but from his agitation.
"But what's happening to him?" Mikey asked between squealing turns
"I do not know. Only that he was aware for a moment that his mind was being invaded from without, that he was sinking beneath its influence. The sense of malevolence growing in his mind as a shadow taking form was the last impression I had of him."
"Shell," Raph growled almost inaudibly. He pushed the accelerator even farther, using every trick he'd ever picked up driving in the city to move more quickly. This was not a time for stealth, for practicing invisibility on roofs and the tops of bridges. This was a time he would sacrifice just about anything to get to their destination even a moment sooner. He couldn't say why, exactly, and he wasn't dialed into Donatello's brain the way Master Splinter was, but there was something ominous in his own heart nonetheless.
"Go faster, Raph," Leo said, as if reading his thoughts. "Before it's too late."
"Don't have to tell me twice," he replied. Hitting an open stretch, the red-clad turtle slammed the ridiculous extra-speedy propulsion system Don had installed, and for once, didn't cheer with the thrill of the rush he got from it. There was no rush this time.
He couldn't say how he knew, but they had to arrive soon, or else.
-==OOO==-
"It's got to be Bishop!" Elsie called, ducking to one side. But she needn't have bothered – Donatello followed only Nick, his whole feral being intent on the doctor. "The psychological conditioning has reversed the paternal bonds, so now the clones hate Nick as much as Godzilla cares about him!"
Nick made a quick turn, sliding like a baseball player across the slick floor towards the chaotic "homey" end of the lab. Even half-possessed and still drugged, the turtle reacted with surprising speed, following him after only a moment of being carried by his own momentum. Nick spared a glance at the workstation he'd so recently abandoned. Another dose of the neuro-depressant was already mixed. The syringe wasn't filled, but if he could get to the compound…
"Look out!" Randy's voice rang out.
Before Nick could even register the warning, a form dropped on him, pinning him to the floor. Enraged, red eyes bored into his as thick fingers curled around his throat and began to push. Nick fought for air, suddenly aware that Godzilla, always his rescue, always there before the worst quite happened, was not going to make it in time. The lizard hadn't even been able to break his own physical paralysis yet; the impact of Bishop in his mind was too great.
"Monique!" Mendel gasped at the weapon the Frenchwoman carried as she reentered the room, briskly setting it on a table and taking aim. It was not one of the guns designed to subdue or tranquilize. This was lethal, and strong enough to penetrate even Donatello's shell at this range. Elsie ran up, but Monique casually threw a stool at her and knocked her to the ground without even pausing. The red-head shouted even as she fell.
"You can't!"
"I must!" Monique grit her teeth as she took aim. There was no time, not one moment to spare for regret or apology. Either Donatello or Nick would die, and Monique had chosen.
"NO!"
Green was everywhere. Monique pulled the trigger, only to realize that a sai was lodged in the firing mechanism. By the time she had gripped its handle to clear the gun, a turtle was beside her, nunchaku swinging. Michelangelo expertly struck the firearm in three places, then turned to the shooter, his eyes alight and fierce with anger.
"Don't you dare hurt my brother!"
"Then save Nick!" she shouted.
"Already on it!" came another voice.
Where Donatello had pinned the doctor, two more turtles had appeared. They grabbed an arm each and started to pull. Nick had stopped moving, and both brothers were shouting, she realized belatedly, in an odd mix of English and Japanese. Monique moved an inch to the side, but Michelangelo was there still, and he shifted his stance in warning.
"Let them do it."
And then there was a soft grunt and Donatello collapsed. From the shadows of the three turtles across the room, a wizened rat appeared, his fingers still expertly locked on the pressure points at the throat. Leonardo and Raphael pulled their brother gently to the ground while Elsie raced forward.
"Nick!"
"He will be all right," Splinter said softly, who had released Don and was taking the young man's pulse. "For all his strength, my son did no lasting damage." The turtles' sensei looked down at the marks on the scientist's exposed neck, his forehead furrowing. Certainly, Donatello had appeared to be choking the life out of the man, and uninterrupted, he might have succeeded, but if that were his true aim, he was a poor assassin indeed. Splinter turned to where Donatello lay on the floor, quiet and still.
"What do you mean?" Mendel asked, moving forward cautiously with the first-aid kit in hand.
"Observe the bruises," the ninja master replied. Elsie and Craven both peered at the angry coloring spreading across the pale skin. "Ugly to behold, and yet the marks correspond to the only places on the human throat that can withstand pressure without risk of harm. If my son had put his strength here," and he pointed to the windpipe, "he could have crushed the doctor's airway permanently in a moment. Had he focused his rage here," and he pointed to a spot on the throat just under the jaw, "he would have cut off the blood to his brain and caused a quick death. He did neither."
"Master, are you saying Don somehow didn't kill him on purpose?" Raph asked, his voice legitimately shaking. He stayed where he was, his knees under his brother's shoulders and head, his hands on the shoulders that were still.
"The clone tried to kill Nick," Leo said, standing up, trying to return to command and mostly succeeding. "Don must have had some measure of control, and he stopped it. Even from inside his head, he probably saved Nick's life."
"Yeah, that's all well and good, but what about her?" Mikey said, his voice as dark as his family had ever heard it. Several heads swung around to see where the youngest turtle was still crouched in an aggressive posture. He had not stopped spinning his weapons, nor had he moved a step from Monique. "She tried to kill Donnie!"
"I did only what I gave my word I would do," she said evenly, almost softly. "I warned you that if your brother posed a risk I would eliminate him. I am not sorry for that. I am, however, pleased it was not necessary." She stood stiffly.
"I understand your caution," Master Splinter turned his eyes to her, and they were proud and hard, "but if you raise a weapon to my son again, I will not forgive so easily." His tail flicked with anger. "We shall not leave his side again, so your vigilance will not be necessary. In your place, I may have done the same, but in mine, I believe you would feel as I do now."
"Perhaps." Monique did not lower her head, but there was reconciliation in her tone. Michelangelo looked at her angrily, but at last he stepped away from her and moved to join his brothers.
The next few minutes were a flurry of first aid and motion. Nick was moved to the couch to rest, a warm compress put on the worst of his bruising. Donatello was returned to the table and again strapped down, and the wounds he had acquired in the fight, which were numerous though slight, tended. Monique did not approach the turtles at all, aware that their eyes were on her every moment, and she instead tended to her weaponry. However, the aim of both turtles had been true – the firearm was not salvageable after the damage by sai and nunchaku. The room was eerily quiet, emotions running high. Rage, fear, betrayal, loyalty, all seemed to bounce around the space, unspoken, but present.
The watchers could do nothing but wait for Nick and Don to wake, hoping that both would return to consciousness as themselves and not lost in the violence of the minds that seemed to beckon them even in sleep.
-==OOO==-
"Yes, that's right. Sleep now. When you wake up, daddy has some important trials for you," Bishop smiled at the last of the misshapen creatures before him. As one, they retreated to the holding containers, the test tubes from which they had been born, and curled up to rest. Bishop locked down the cells as he made a few final notes in his logs.
"So far, this experiment has been within acceptable parameters," he looked back at the creatures. "The accelerated growth process, while distorting them from their original source, seems to have produced sufficient intelligence as well as the physical attributes intended to manifest in the primary subjects. By my estimates, it will take several months for them to grow to full size, and I suspect many of them will die prior to reaching heights above 10 feet. As of now, each subject measures 4 feet, 2 inches tall, with proportional length and weight."
Moving away from the computer, he continued to address the open logbook. He put a hand almost fondly on one of the containers as he peered at the sleeping creature within.
"The subjects are somewhat resistant to my behavioral programming, but the addition of a neuro-depressant has made them more susceptible. It is unsurprising that they are naturally willful, so the compounds in their diets are essential to maintaining control. Once influence has been established, however, subjects are showing greater abilities to obey basic commands."
The agent shifted his position to a different container, this one marked with a red stripe.
"The alpha subjects, the control group, unmodified from the original genetic blueprint, is less malleable to introduced commands without chemical assistance than their updated cousins. Those clones in the beta group that were subjected to my intelligence enhancers need very little in the way of drugs before they accept the programming I introduced. It is my speculation that the alpha group will submit only after significant dosages. However, even they eventually accept myself as their surrogate parent. The beta group, on the other hand, have become completely my creations, obedient dogs to their master."
Turning back to the computer, Bishop pulled up a sub-file labeled "Terrapin Host."
"The theta group, those embryos not injected with the growth accelerant, are proceeding according to an exponential curve as expected. Subject 001, as implanted into the turtle Donatello, is likely progressing at a slightly slower rate due to its physical situation, but it can be expected to have grown with similar dimensions to the rest of its group. The embryos are beginning to show interesting signs of activity within an early-developing neural center, as if their brains are awake prior to being fully formed. I can only speculate as to whether this effect is occurring within my mobile subject."
A dark smile twisted across his face, and Bishop made a note.
"By now, the embryos from the theta group are large enough to be causing my turtle friend significant discomfort. If he were present, I would be fascinated to witness what the impact of the foreign body is to his systems. As it is, I expect Donatello, and therefore his entire faction, are distracted enough that they will not pose much risk for interference."
To close out the entry, Bishop pulled up the tallies for review.
"Theta group, including subject 001, remains static at 25 subjects. Alpha group of unmodified clones has decreased to only 75 active and functional subjects after the loss of two more from dosage experimentation while determining proper compounds to enforce behavioral control. Beta group, my primary subjects, numbers the original 100 subjects, all functioning as well as expected, all having accepted mental programming."
Exiting the report, the agent looked across the room at the sea of containers. Teaching the clones to accept his authority was a slow process, as he only dared work with them in relatively small numbers. The alpha group had proved the most difficult – he'd been required to drug them significantly before subjecting them to the most extreme and direct method of imprinting himself on their brains. But now that all subjects had been woken and showed little rebellion, the only displayed coming from his alpha group as he expected, which was very quickly punished and his control reestablished, he felt he could move ahead with phase three.
"Now that you all agree that I am your master, let's find out what you can do against something you perceive as an enemy."
-==OOO==-
Donatello was floating.
"What happened?" he spoke into the bizarre void around him. It reminded him of the state where he got so tired he couldn't stay asleep anymore, waking himself every hour for his mind to grumble at him about how it was too tired to sleep. He fought to remember how he had gotten so tired, but all that came back to him was the image of his family surrounding him, concern on their faces. There was nothing after that.
"Well, logically," he considered, feeling oddly happy that he could think so clearly, as if it had been a while since his mind had moved at the pace he was accustomed to, "something happened. Given our recent experiences, I'd say the thing in my head linked itself to a particular neural connection in my brain. So where am I now?"
As if in answer, the dark void around him dissolved into images. They were cluttered and blended one into the next, but he could pick out himself, Godzilla, and Bishop amidst swirling colors and formations that reminded him of storms on other planets as seen from space. He noticed that every time he focused on a certain portion of the image, the whole thing shifted, as if tainted by whatever he was investigating.
"Since the last time I was anywhere like this I was in Godzilla's mind, I guess my own mind is sitting somewhere in the middle of the collectiveness of Godzilla with the clones. But the size of this…there must be a lot of clones for the presence to be this big. That's not good."
Donatello focused on the part of the image that was himself, and he was not surprised to find something rise up next to himself, an image of Godzilla, though a little distorted. "That's the clone in my head," he considered. "And if I'm here, that means it's on the surface of my brain, whereas I'm the one that's being buried. We've swapped control, and now the clone has sort of become my consciousness and I'm the unconscious. I bet Freud would have something to say about that."
Don fought for a while, trying every trick he knew and a few he invented on the spot, to try to dislodge the foreign entity from barring his way back to himself, but nothing worked.
"Maybe," he considered, "if I can't supplant it, at least I can influence it."
Without knowing quite what he was doing, he set himself to try to change the presence before him. He knew he was making traction when the swirling images took on new colors – instead of sickly yellow and angry red, they transmuted to cooler shades of purple and green. He still had no idea what was going on outside himself, but maybe this would help. He wished for the kind of mind-control where he could see through his own eyes; then, though he still wouldn't be able to change what was happening, at least he'd know. This was more like trying to drive a car while being locked in the trunk.
And on the edges of the space he had claimed as his own, Donatello could also sense a gathering storm. His ability to influence the embryo became more and more limited as the yellow and red seemed to leech in from somewhere else. The ninja remembered his thoughts about the number of clones Bishop must have created, and his heart sank.
"If he's got too many clones, my brain in the mix is going to be a drop in the bucket before too long. And at some point, so will Godzilla's. I don't know how many there are, but there must be more than we thought, and they're like an army, conquering the field of shared consciousness one inch at a time. If they get the whole battlefield, though, it won't just be me that goes down, it'll be Godzilla, too." His resolve hardened.
"I can't fight them all. But I can try to fight this one, maybe cut it off from the rest of the collective, at least a little. And if I ever wake up," he felt determination flood through him, "I'm taking them all down no matter what it does to my brain. Every single clone. Or it won't just be me that's destroyed in the process, but everybody Bishop hates, too. Including my family."
-==OOO==-
"How is he?" Raphael asked gruffly, leaning over the prone body of his brother. Donatello looked a bit like death warmed over. His face was completely slack, not the peace of being asleep, but numb even to that. His skin had shifted from its usual olive-green to something worryingly close to grey. Almost absently, Raph rubbed at some of the dried blood that had congealed on his beak.
"We think he's in a coma," Elsie said gently looking up from her desk. "We didn't drug him enough to put him out like this. The strain on his brain is enormous. It probably just shut down when it couldn't cope."
"You're wrong," Leo said suddenly. All eyes in the room turned to him. Nick, who had woken not long after the fight, met the blue-banded turtle's eyes and then looked away. It had been hours, and HEAT had nothing new to report besides that they were still trying. But every minute saw the hope of trying trickle away, until even the scientists were starting to wonder if there was any purpose in what they were attempting anyway. The longer they waited, the worse the chances for Don's recovery now that things had progressed so far.
"What do you mean?" Monique asked. She had kept her distance since the fight, knowing that she was officially persona-non-grata with the mutant family. Even Nick had been angry with her when he'd learned of her actions, though he hadn't said anything. But the other turtles and their master had not once turned their back to her, and she could read in the eyes of the rat a certain threat – if she so much as approached them wrong, he was prepared to do whatever it took to defend his sons.
"It's Don." Leo stood from where he'd been in a deep trance and moved to the table. Michelangelo untangled himself from the playing-card fort he'd been building, the only way he could keep out of everyone's way, and followed.
"How do you figure?" Raph asked. Unlike his eldest brother who had mostly been meditating, and Mikey, who was playing, and HEAT, who seemed to be accordingly working or glowering in the corner, Raph had wandered. He would sit by Don's side for a while, then stalk off in a rage, march to the roof, run through some brutal katas until exhausted, stand at the edge of the dock until he was cool, return to his brother, and repeat the process. He just couldn't do nothing, and yet there was nothing he could do.
"I've been trying to reach him," Leo said, "but there's just too much in the way."
"Too much what?" Mikey wanted to know.
"I'm not sure. Interference. Like static on the phone line. Master Splinter knows more than I do," he gestured to where their father kept up his vigil, watching over them all in silence. "But the point is that it was Don who kept himself from hurting the doctor earlier. It wasn't us. And it sure wasn't Bishop."
"Agreed," Nick nodded.
"So think about it. If Bishop had that much control over Donatello through the thing in his head, wouldn't he want to have Don awake and fighting? But he doesn't. So I think that means something is stopping him from having that control. And that something is Don."
"It is also plausible that he doesn't know about this at all," Dr Craven pointed out from across the lab. "The knowledge of the bond between Godzilla and Nick isn't what you would call common. Normal clones that you just cook up in a lab don't have a shared consciousness; they exist separately just like anything else. It's only Godzilla that makes this a problem at all. If Bishop doesn't know they're interconnected, he wouldn't have any way of knowing Don is connected, too."
"That's true," Elsie conceded, "but I think Leo is right anyway. Even if Bishop didn't know he had that power, he'd still be programming whatever clones he does have to attack. So Don would still be attacking. But he's not."
"So what do we do?" Mikey asked.
"There's not much we can do at this stage," Nick sighed, standing and joining them. "Don's body is busy keeping itself stable and healthy, and his mind is…well, doing whatever it's doing. All we can do for now is keep on the path we set and try to come up with something to help him."
"That ain't good enough!" Raph exploded, punching the table near Don's shoulder with enough force to dent it. "There's gotta be something else!"
"Raph…" Leo cautioned.
"No, I'm done sittin' around waitin' for somebody else to help Donnie. We can't just sit here no more, Leo!"
"What do you suggest?" he snarled back. "Whip up a cure ourselves? Go begging to Bishop again? Cut into his brain with my katana? Face it, Raph – this is not the sort of problem any of us can handle without help."
"Well I sure as shell ain't askin' Bishop for help again," Raph growled. "But if these brainiacs can't fix Don, maybe we need to get him to somebody who can!"
"Who, Raph? Who can do a better job than these guys?" Leo demanded. He met his brother's blazing eyes unflinchingly, and as expected, he wasn't the one to break the contact.
"Yeah, okay, I get it. But I hate it!" and he pounded the table again.
"Hey guys?" Mikey said. He was very much ignored.
"I know you do," Leo said sincerely. "I do, too. It's like before. I keep turning to Don to ask him what we're going to do this time, but I can't. All we can do is trust our friends. Don's friends."
"Guys?"
"Shell, Leo, why's it always gotta be Don?" Raph's voice deflated. "You know what I would'a given to trade places with him?"
"Hello, guys?"
"I know," Leo put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'd have done the same."
"Guys!" Michelangelo shouted, jumping between them.
"What?" they turned on him.
"We've got a problem!"
"Indeed," Monique had already left her perch and was moving towards the area she kept her own equipment.
"What's going on?" Mendel squeaked, looking around quickly.
"Listen!" Mikey held up a hand. There was no sound out of the ordinary to human ears, but the other ninjas stiffened with recognition. At the same time, Splinter turned to his sons.
"Bishop has returned, and he is not alone," he stated. "Engage him, defend this place. I shall stay with Donatello. Do not permit him entrance." The three bowed to him and practically vanished where they stood, their ninja instincts on full alert.
"Bishop?" Randy asked, finally moving from the console that had held his attention for unbroken hours.
"Oui," Monique said, loading up some of her preferred weaponry. "I am surprised you have not sensed the intrusion," she looked at Nick.
Nick reached into his mind for Godzilla, noticing again as he did so the muted presence in his mind. Godzilla was still holding out against whatever Bishop had done, and the constant barrage had apparently begun to take its toll. On some level, the mutant lizard was aware of an intruder in his territory, but on every level that mattered, he was primarily aware of the battle in his mind, and the headache that was its after-effect. As when Don had attacked him hours before, he was nearly paralyzed physically by the activity in his mind.
"He knows," Nick admitted aloud, "but he's too distracted to do anything. I guess we're on our own."
"Fine with me." And Monique stalked to the door.
-==OOO==-
"What is that thing?" Mikey whispered.
"Looks like a mini-Godzilla," Leo replied softly.
"That little thing is a clone of Godzilla," Raph scoffed. "It's puny."
"It's also probably radioactive and can spit fire," Leo reminded them, "so be cautious. We're just going to sneak over and eliminate it. Nothing fancy."
The three had used the rooftop to survey the area, but the only immediate threat appeared to be a shorter-than-themselves clone of Godzilla, apparently hunting. But they also couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something. Visibility was limited by the dark of night and the lack of lights, and they didn't dare wander too far in search of more threats. They exchanged glances.
"Dinner for a week says that ain't the only one out here," Mikey finally voiced what they were all thinking.
"Then we take 'em all out," Raphael snarled. And jumped to engage the mutant.
As soon as he appeared within the clone's field of vision, the smaller, contorted version of Godzilla roared and charged, wicked teeth gleaming. However, it lacked the grace of its original counterpart, not to mention the size, and Raph easily sidestepped the attack. A practiced strike with a sai left the clone shrieking as a cut opened up along the side of its oversized head.
"I don't think this thing likes you," Mikey quipped as he dropped beside his brother.
"It shouldn't. I told it not to," came Bishop's voice. He appeared under one of the straggling area lights, smirking. "Apparently these clones are pretty good students."
"Ignore him," Leo cut off the remark the hotheaded turtle was about to deploy. "He's just trying to draw our attention from the lab." And he pointed to several more shapes making their way towards the building unchecked. "We've got to keep them away from the others."
"Yeah, but," Michelangelo took a swing at one, which bounced backwards but came back for another round, "these guys are pretty persistent."
"Then take them down. Whatever you've got to do." His eyes narrowed. "These are the same things that are hurting Donatello," he growled. The rage that had started to boil weeks prior, the pent-up fury of watching his brother fade and suffer, of seeing his brother once again reduced to something mindless because of Bishop flowed to the surface like a lake after a broken dam. He'd heard HEAT state that the clones had to be eliminated, all of them, to save his brother. Whether it went against his personal code or not, if annihilation would help Don, he would not hesitate to kill. With a precise swipe of katana, he sliced into the throat of a nearby clone.
The screams came from everywhere.