This chapter has been revised due to an unfortunate complaint. My co-writer and I would like to apologize once again to the author LaraPink777 informing us of their stolen work. Thank you for coming forward about it, LaraPink777. It is never our intention to steal your work, or anyone else's, and we hope this revised version, based on the ideas of only myself and my co-writer, makes up for it.

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Chapter 7

Jax continued to check up on Mikey throughout the day. He tried talking to the Turtle again and offered food as well, but Mikey refused to cooperate each attempt Jax made.

"Okay," Jax nodded. "I get it. You need to be alone. We'll try again tomorrow."

But as he left the cellar for the night, he began to wonder if trying to turn the Turtle into his working partner was a mistake. Mikey clearly didn't want to have anything to do with the young Triceraton.

"He just needs a little more time," Jax thought to himself as he locked the cellar door for the night. "Maybe tomorrow he'll open up to me?"

He was tired and frustrated.

"Hey, Jax!" someone called. Jax looked up and noticed his newspaper friend from the train was waving him over. Jax smiled a little, glad to see a friend that could distract him from his doubtful thoughts.

"Varn, it's good to see you."

"You look tired, Jax," Varn chuckled. He waited for Jax to come away from the cellar and put his arm around him. "Let me guess, you're still having trouble with that Turtle of yours?"

"He'll come around," Jax tried to sound positive so Varn wouldn't been concerned. "Just needs a little more time."

Varn wore a serious frown. He glanced around the neighborhood before speaking again. "There's a meeting tomorrow night. Thought I should tell you, in case you were interested in joining us."

"I can't," Jax frowned as well, but it wasn't because he was sharing in his friend's own frowned that carried anger. "I have to look after the Turtle. I'm still trying to get him to trust me."

"Forget the Turtle!" Varn growled. "This meeting is much more important! Our lives are at stake!"

"Shh! Not so loud!" Jax warned, glancing around the neighborhood. He looked towards his house before continuing. "We'll be in trouble if someone hears us talking about...that. I especially don't want Karentin to find out. If someone were to discover what we're up to..." He sighed and forced himself to relax before continuing. "Look, I can't tomorrow. I have too much going on."

Varn stared at him in disbelief. "You really want to miss out? I heard we have information on where that coward Zanramon is hiding. If we can capture him..."

"I said no, Varn!" Jax growled. "It's dangerous enough that we're part of the group! We'll be killed if we're caught. Just inform me about the meeting later."

Jax turned and began climbing up the stairs to his house. Varn sighed.

"You know, those Turtles that came here a while back should be hailed as heroes. It's because of them we have a chance at turning this entire planet into peace like it used to be."

"Be careful, Varn," Jax warned, turning to him with another frown. "You may be making a mistake. Those 'heroes' have changed things, alright. Now our planet is divided. How can that possibly a good thing?"

"If you truly believed it to be wrong to praise the Turtles, then you wouldn't be part of the Rebellion. Would you, Jax?"

Jax paused as he glared at the other Triceraton. "My business is my own, Varn. Don't ever mention my involvement with the Rebellion again."

"Just think about it," Varn told him. "My place. Tomorrow night." He then chuckled and waved as he walked away. "Later!"

Jax watched his friend go. He felt uneasy. Usually he received private letters or notes from Varn whenever there was news within the Rebellion. Was he trying to risk getting caught by talking about the group in the open?

"Jax!" Karentin called as she stepped out onto the porch. "It's getting late. You should really let your Turtle...rest." She noticed Jax's frustrated look and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright? You look upset."

Jax smiled and shook his head. "It's nothing. I'm just tired." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze for assurance. "I'm going to be late tomorrow coming home. You think you could make sure the Turtle is taken care of?"

"Yes, of course," Karentin smiled. Jax kissed her forehead and followed her into the house.

It was dark around him. Slowly he tried to perceive the space, smells, sounds. Raphael's feeling was to live in nothingness with just a big headache. Then his wrists, why did they hurt?

He was sitting on the floor and his hands were tied to chains that were fixed to the floor, they were tight, almost too tight and so very, very thirsty!

Raphael's thoughts were constantly on his brothers, he wondered if they were okay, or if he would ever see them again. He missed his family and for the first time he realized he was alone. Completely alone. A tear came down from the red mask's eyes, making its way down his cheek, grazing his mouth and then his chin until it reached the ground. In that tear was all his pain.

A glimmer of light suddenly came from in front of him, and he had to cover his eyes from the discomfort of that single ray of life beyond the darkness. A door opened, the only door in that cramped, dusty space with stains on the walls. The cell was a little larger than himself.

Something dripped onto the floor barely perceptible. He realized only now that it was blood and it was dripping from his head. Had he been hit? Had he been unconscious? How long had it been?

As Raph searched for answers to his questions three black silhouettes came forward; they were Triceraton soldiers. The turtle was getting used to the light.

"What took you so long?" said the turtle in a hoarse voice barely audible to sound tough, but it failed as he expected. The truth was that he was very afraid, but he would not show it, never, but rather in death. It was at that moment that he saw a fourth figure, it was so huge that he had to duck to get through the door.

Raph immediately changed his expression when he saw him enter. He was also a Triceraton, but he was differant than the others. He was massive and very tall. He was the most tallest and most massive one Raph had ever seen! He was missing a horn on his forehead and he had a scar on his cheek that looked like a burn mark, and then his eyes were yellow. Those eyes were of evil.

"Well, well, well, we have a tough guy here. We'll see how long," the Triceraton began in a calm, slow voice, "I am Ragor, but to you I am 'Mr. Ragor' and I will be your playmate, or rather, your play master."

Raph didn't understand, but he sensed that things would get worse. However, he wasn't intimidated. He couldn't, he shouldn't, not while his brothers were counting on him. He would stay strong.

"Mr. Horned my shell! Say, half-horned, you're missing one," Raph tried to taunt with a grin, but he almost didn't finish the sentence that a fist landed on his face.

Pain and blood.

In one punch Raphael found himself with one eye closed and dripping with blood, his ear holes were ringing, it took him a few minutes to recover.

"Don't provoke me little Earthling, otherwise the games will soon be over, and I personally want to have more fun."

Ragor snapped his fingers and the three soldiers were immediately on Raph.

Suddenly he was crushed on the floor by the hands of the Triceraton that pinned him in a vice of steel. Nails were driven into his flesh, and a knee pressed his head to the floor, making it impossible to move. Freed from the chains, he was still held down. Ragor approached, pleased to see such ardor in such an insignificant being.

"This is going to be fun," he pulled a small syringe from his pocket and forcefully plunged it into Raph's neck.

Heat, shortness of breath, and more heat. Poison? Why? What was the point?

Raph's eyes widened at the horrible sensation of being on fire, of burning alive, never to see his brothers again. The poor ninja was dropped to the ground violently, while he groaned in pain. A grin decorated the face of the big Triceraton.

"You will not die, little turtle! It's just an instant paralyzer with a dash of adrenaline. Now let's play."

the Triceratons lifted Raphael who was unable to resist and they dragged him along a long narrow corridor until they reached a steel door. Raph was dragged inside, smelling of alcohol and blood. The room wasn't particularly big. It was made of white tiles, steel and glass.

"All easy to clean up," thought Raph horrified. White led lights towered over the ceiling, a metal laboratory table, with various trinkets on it that Donatello would have surely loved, strange and technological machinery whose function Raph didn't understand. But he feared he will find out all too soon.

The turtle was knocked to the ground, with his face was leaning against the floor. His mouth and head were still bleeding. Then he saw something coming down slowly from the ceiling. His vision was blurred by the trauma and blood, but he tried with all his strength to focus and saw a rope coming down from the ceiling. No, not just a rope; a noose!

They want to hang me! Why die with a very ordinary rope in a super technological room? He was confused, as he had never been before.

One of the soldiers dragged him towards the rope and tightened the noose around his neck. In his mind he only had one thought.

"I don't want to die, not like this. I am a warrior, I want to die fighting. Cowards!"

Ragor stood in front of Raph looking down at him and never taking the smile off his face.

"I hear you're a rebellious, tough guy. Qualities I love in a toy of mine."

Raph didn't look away from the alien, though unable to move or speak, his eyes were on fire with rage.

"The title of today's game, my dear little turtle is, 'Let's see how long you can last.'" The sadistic yellow-eyed triceraton's face lit up with perverse pleasure. He snaped his fingers.

Raphael was lifted by the neck to the highest point of the ceiling, some ten feet up, unable to move or breathe. What a terrible feeling to have the knowledge that he was about to die in such a dishonorable manner!

"I love you my brothers! I love you with all my heart! Forgive me." As the air slowly failed him and he neared the edge of consciousness, the rope was let go and Raphael fell down hard.

He heard the sound of something breaking, a creaking sound, but paid no attention as his body gave out involuntary fits of violent coughing. The air gradually filled his lungs and gasps of blood lay around him. He didn't understand where they came from. He finished coughing and was immediately lifted up and thrown back violently He wanted to faint, to die, to cancel himself completely. But he still had enough adrenaline in his body to keep him conscious.

Ragor feared that he wouldn't be able to withstand a third fall and then the fun would be over. He immediately ordered the soldiers to change their "game".

Raphael was placed badly on a chair similar to that of a dentist in an almost upright position. His ankles and wrists were well welded, even his head, unable to hold it on his own because of the paralyzing pain and confusion that invaded his limbs.

The "butcher" approached the table of games and took one. The tool was a stick with the tip lit up in red, and it looked like a huge caution he approached the turtle and, with a sudden gesture, the red-hot tip of the object ended up on Raphael's thigh.

Raph wanted to scream, but he only emitted a perceptible, shrill groan of pain, all his fury in one measly sound.

"Hot?!" Ragor asked with mock concern, "Don't worry, little turtle. Before long your voice will return and you can squeal as long as you wish."

And with violence he planted the instrument on Raph's shoulder. The operation continued for three more times on various points of Raph's body, and as time passed the voice returned to the poor unfortunate's throat, although the only thing he prayed was that it would not return. No, absolutely no satisfaction he wanted to give this Triceraton, but even this desire was not granted.

The voice returned, as the perception in the arms and legs, as he regained consciousness of his body, now too weak and injured to react.

How long will all this last?

He didn't want to give in, he really didn't, but how would it help his brothers if these Triceratons broke him? Doubt, frustration and an endless sense of surrender invaded his body, and to it a terrible sense of shame. He was thankful that at least his brothers weren't there to see it. What if his brothers had also suffered the same fate?

Anger, fire, red.

His thoughts didn't last long because the soldiers approached to untie him to begin a ride on another "merry-go-round".

"Calm Raphael," he said to himself. "Have Leo's calm attitude, Mickey's speed, and Donnie's intelligence. Think only of them. Three... Two... One..." He waited breathing regularly, filling his lungs with air and exhaling with his eyes closed.

CALM

As soon as he was completely untied and free, he felt mobility in his hands and feet.

SPEED

An intense ardor invaded his body and he unleashed a fist with all his strength to the first soldier. With a kick he got rid of the second one. He rolled down from the chair and with another kick he made the third one lose his balance. He was a devil in rage, snarling, kicking, spitting, and cursing. All his anger against those three soldiers who ended up on the ground, slaughtered by a small almost dead alien.

But still he was missing the crazy yellow-eyed! The big Triceraton did not move a finger, he enjoyed the scene as an attentive observer, and how far his perversion came. They were face to face. The two threw themselves at each other, fury against fury. Raph knew that if he fought the colossus, wounded as he was, he would lose. He played with strategy.

INTELLIGENCE

The escape route was just behind Ragor. With a slip, Raph tripped the big alien and got back on his feet as he ran towards the door. He couldn't believe it, he had made it! He didn't know what awaited him outside, but he never thought he would make it this far. It was almost over, he could still save his brothers!

He put his right hand on the handle and pulled. The door was not locked, but it was very heavy so with his left hand he levered the wall beside the door to pull it towards him as fast as he could, opening it to escape.

Pain, liquid, red, screaming. Raph shuddered. His hand was nailed to the wall!

While the turtle tried to escape, Ragor, with the precision of a Spartan warrior, threw a long, thick knife towards Raph, implanting it in the poor boy's hand.

On Raphael's face lay furrows of tears that fell without command, on their own, without respecting his will.

"It's been fun today, little turtle." Said the tall Triceraton, erect in a proud position and hands behind his back with the attitude of someone who has won. "Sleep well, see you tomorrow. That is, if you're alive, I hope. Good night."

The soldiers came out the room first, followed by Ragor.

Alone. Raph remained alone.

Attempts to remove the knife from the wall were useless. He stood, face to the wall, with a knife stuck in his hand.

He cried and screamed the names of his brothers and father. By now he felt no more pain, only a sense of despair.

"Forgive me, my brothers, forgive me, master... father!"