Dire Times Indeed
Donatello was progressing with infuriating slow speed through the sewer tunnels. He had hoped to catch the transmission again as soon as he would be underground, but it wasn't working. Something must be interfering with it.
That something, of course, could only be Irma.
Donatello stopped to catch his breath, his fists clenching. Had his brothers and friends entered some kind of trap? Were they already fighting for their lives? For his life?
He needed to know what was happening to them. Staying in the backstage was acceptable only as long as he could still be of some kind of help. Otherwise, he was just torturing himself with grim possibilities and hopeless scenarios.
Gritting his teeth, he set into motion again.
Leonardo watched his surroundings anxiously. He couldn't say he was surprised; if he had been an alien in exile, having just lost a war, of course he would have monitored and trapped his hideout. This whole plan had been risky, bordering on pure madness. But Donatello… It was plain obvious that he was running out of time, and Leonardo's choices hadn't been particularly pleasant.
The mere thought of his brother, looking way too thin and way too sick, renewed his determination. They needed to find a cure for him, and find a cure they would. Even if they had to dismantle this pumping station brick by brick.
Donatello would have found a better way to proceed, of course, but they had lost their connection to the Shellraiser and the infrared camera was dead. If he remembered correctly his science lessons and his brother's ramblings, it must be because the area was electromagnetically shielded.
The darkness was inscrutable, and Leonardo had to rely on his other senses. He wondered if he should switch on a light. It was obvious that Irma could see them, so they had no advantage staying in the dark.
"I don't see poor Donatello," Irma's voice was saying. The sound reverberated across the room, and he couldn't pinpoint a location.
"I'm going to reduce her to pieces," Raphael whispered next to him. "Then I'll burn them, then I'll stomp on them, then I'll pee on them…"
"Shh, Raph." Not that Leonardo disagreed with his brother, but he needed to listen. "April?"
"I sense her," April whispered, her voice tense. "She's nearby."
"Which direction?"
"I'm not sure." April's frustration was obvious. "Below?"
"Then let's try to find a way down." Leonardo took his decision. "Use your flashlights."
The group quickly complied, and soon the room was lit by five luminous beams.
Allowing everybody to see that Irma stood right in front of them.
Donatello reached the pumping station without problem. The walls near the entrance were full of infrared captors, meaning that Irma had indeed been aware of his family's progression. He deactivated them, his heart heavy. The transmission still wasn't working, so he had no way of knowing what was happening inside.
He stood still for a moment, breathing in and out as evenly as he could. What should he do now? He could go back to the Shellraiser, of course, being none the wiser and his heart heavy with anxiety.
It was the safest decision to make.
Or…
Or he could turn around that last corner, and take a look - a single look, just to make sure that Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, April and Casey had the situation well in hand.
A single look couldn't hurt, right?
Donatello allowed a grim smile to play on his lips. Who was he trying to fool? Only one of these two possibilities was acceptable for him.
Michelangelo tightened his grip on his nunchucks. He knew that he looked nothing like the joker and prankster and easy-going turtle he usually was.
He was determined.
Irma was the key to his brother's healing, he knew it. And now she was taunting them, asking about Donatello's whereabouts and standing right there…
Not for long, not if he had anything to say about it. The gross alien inside Irma's chest was going to regret he ever laid a hand on his brothers.
"Okay, guys, be careful," Leonardo whispered. "It looks like it's a t…"
Michelangelo didn't pay attention to the end of Leonardo's sentence and jumped forwards, eager to end this whole nightmare. "Booyakasha!"
"Mikey!" Leonardo exclaimed, his voice half-concerned and half-irritated.
Michelangelo made a note to apologize to his leader later, and circled around Irma, his nunchaku already transformed into a kusarigama. He threw the chain to capture her, and it clang against her robotic body.
"Got you!" he exclaimed, ferocious. "Now how are you going to transform, uh?"
"No, Mikey, she's not Irma," April shouted.
Michelangelo blinked at her.
"April, April." Irma's voice sighed. "Don't spoil my fun like that."
Irma-who-wasn't-Irma's belly opened in front of Michelangelo, letting a cannon show. The walls around them did the same, showing that Irma had taken particular care to prepare for them.
Michelangelo watched the display of weaponry.
"Oops."
Donatello sneaked inside just in time to witness the beginning of the cannonade. Lasers and blasts in quick succession colored the room, its pipes and its motors, and a pool of sewer water below. Donatello's eyes narrowed to slits as he saw his brothers and friends jump and dance to avoid the firing.
He distinctly saw Raphael find the time to glare at Michelangelo, though. Donatello couldn't be sure why, but he had his suspicions.
Hiding behind a particularly big motor, he assessed the situation. There was an Irma participating in the attack, but she had one cannon instead of an alien in her chest. A robot decoy. His brothers and friends were providing the perfect distraction for him to look for the real Irma. It would be a shame not to use it. Everybody with the slightest logical mind would see that.
Being careful not to be seen - he had a feeling the others would strongly object to his presence here - he moved across the pipes, searching for a hint about Irma's whereabouts. He was browsing through the hundred possibilities his mind was helpfully providing when an amplified voice talked over the roar of the battle.
"This is so moving. All this for me?"
It took Donatello's brilliant, genius mind two whole seconds to realize it was his own voice speaking.
"Donnie?" Michelangelo exclaimed, baffled.
How dare she? Donatello thought, infuriated. He almost answered it wasn't him, but he managed to restrain himself. Whatever wicked plan Irma had in mind, she was bound to be entirely absorbed in it. She wouldn't be expecting him. If only he could decide where to start…
"It's true I would probably do the same for you," the false Donatello's voice went on. "Because I'm a stupid mutant turtle with stupid human feelings!"
"I don't think it's Donnie," Casey pointed out.
"You bet," Raphael grumbled. "Another thing Irma will answer for!"
Donatello hadn't doubted it, but he still felt comforted that his brothers could see the difference. Now where was he? Ah yes, Irma. Maybe she was in the walls - but there must not be much room inside. Or in another place entirely? No, Kraang Subprime wouldn't be able to resist close combat - on his own terms, of course. Which left the water. Donatello remembered the Technodrome, and how well it would perform underwater…
There was no place for a Technodrome in this pumping station, but maybe something smaller? It was worth a try.
Donatello noticed a ladder on the opposite wall, and decided to use it to go downstairs and near the pool.
"Just listen to what I did for you," the false Donatello's voice was going on. "For you I drank something I never should have drunk! And what did it do to me?"
Donatello froze, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Then the false voice began to read aloud the reports he had sent to Irma.
Raphael would have been unable to say how long the fight had already lasted. The Irma decoy was firing everywhere, as did the walls, but if he had been avoiding the firing for minutes or hours he couldn't say.
He was jumping and sliding mechanically, focusing on what the synthetic voice said. It mimicked Donatello's voice fairly well, and while the illusion wasn't perfect it was still extremely unsettling.
Not to mention what it was saying.
"The nausea started six hours and thirty-two minutes after I took the drop. It began in the pit of my stomach and went back up in waves…"
In Raphael's close surroundings, Casey let out a disgusted little sound. Raphael ignored it, his heart filling with a blank fury.
"The dizziness came back. I almost lost my footing. It seems that the substance is interfering with my sense of balance…"
He knew Irma was playing with him, but it didn't help him to put things into perspective. His brother had been suffering. For days. Alone. Because he wanted to save him.
He managed to jump behind the Irma decoy and tore it to pieces, leaving only the cannon intact. He took it and used it to fire at the walls. Pieces of cement fell from the ceiling.
"Raph, stop! It's going to collapse on us!" Leonardo shouted, and Raphael reluctantly threw the cannon away.
Not-Donatello was still talking. "The spots are spreading like evil mushrooms on my skin…"
"I recognize that part," Michelangelo whispered, crushed. "I wrote it with Donnie."
"Let's take cover," Leonardo instructed, his voice almost-but-not breaking. "Across the motors on the other side of the room. The cannons aren't firing there."
Raphael did so on autopilot. Where was Irma, the real Irma? He knew their true fight would be with her.
Donatello couldn't begin to imagine how his family must feel right now. His reports had been highly detailed, describing his nausea, dizziness, tiredness.
He felt sick just thinking about it.
Hurrying to the ladder - or at least trying to hurry - he went down and reached the pool of sewer water. Without a sound, he slid into it. The water barely made a ripple.
It wasn't as cold as he had imagined. He could even see shapes below, thanks to the regular laser blasts. The warmth seemed to be coming from a particular point. Taking his grappling hook, he aimed at it and fired. It held, and Donatello let himself be carried to a metallic surface that felt a lot like Kraang alloy.
His heard beating faster in anticipation, he looked for an entrance.
April was trying her best to ignore the horrible words this false Donatello was saying - they rang true, didn't they? Was this what Donatello's experience had been? This stupid, stupid mutant. Her mutant. What had he been thinking? - to focus on Irma.
Irma who had been her friend. How she could not realize that Irma was, in fact, a Kraang Subprime, she didn't know. The guilt she carried for bringing her to the lair and starting the invasion was still there, no matter how hard she tried to forgive herself.
There… She felt something below, something cold and uncaring. In… the water?
As she opened her mouth to warn the others, she felt another presence, warm and determined. A presence she would have recognized everywhere.
She almost choked.
"Guys! We need to…"
A psychic wave caught her unaware. She couldn't end her sentence - the pain was too much… unbearable…
She collapsed without a cry.
Donatello had found a way to slid inside the structure. It wasn't a smooth surface - it looked like Irma had built her hideout with spare parts of the Technodrome and Kraang droids - and there was a kind of airlock on the side.
He expected to see Irma inside the rounded aperture filled to the brim with empty Irma robots and panels covered in pink and pale blue buttons shining brightly, but it was empty.
He hurried to the panels and was quick to find how to deactivate the electromagnetic shield. With a satisfied smile, he established a connection between his T-Phone and the Shellraiser. Now he could try to hack the main operating system.
A window opened on his T-Phone screen, showing that somebody was trying to communicate with him from the Shellraiser. Biting his lip, he accepted the call.
"Hi, Master Splinter," he said matter-of-factly.
"Donatello! Where are you? Are you alright?"
His father's voice was so tense that Donatello winced.
"Inside Irma's lair, I would say," Donatello answered in a small but determined voice.
"And you would be right."
Donatello tensed before taking in a resigned breath. He hadn't expected that voice, but he couldn't say that he was surprised, either. It was Kraang Subprime's voice, not Irma's - and sure enough, when he turned around, the infamous alien was smirking at him from the mini-ship he used to move when he wasn't inside a robotic body.
Maybe not making his presence known to his brothers and friends hadn't been such a good idea after all.
