Donnie did NOT like what had just happened. This guy had looked inside him and found his greatest fear?! What the frick was that?!
Also, saying it out loud like that? Not cool, dude.
The strange man had walked out of the room. Donnie didn't know what was going to happen now. The man had said he was going to break them. He had said HE would break easily.
Donnie shook it off. This guy had something coming for him if he thought that he, the Great Donatello, would be broken. As if. He was stronger than he looked. He would never succumb to whatever he was going to do to them!
Suddenly the door opened once again, and multiple people came in. These people, unlike the last one, were wearing black kimonos.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" yelled Raph as they came toward him. They began to take the chains off, but the second Raph began to do anything, they stuck him with a tranquilizer.
"We are taking you to your respective rooms," said one of the people.
Rooms? Like, torture rooms?
The people moved onto him next. But before one of them could release him, another one spoke up. "You should probably tranq him first. The boss said he was feisty."
"Good point," said the one about to release him. The person raised an arm with the tranq in it, and then he saw black.
When he woke up, he was in a completely different place. It looked like a regular prison cell; not a torture room. The walls were gray concrete and there were metal bars on one wall. His shell ached for some reason. He realized they probably didn't exactly put him down nicely when they stuck him here.
"Great…," he groaned. "This is just great. Stuck in a dum-dum cell with probably no dum-dum way out. Perfect."
He paced around anxiously. April and Pops would probably figure out they were missing soon. Maybe if April thought to check the tracker of his battle shell they would know where to look. He didn't have it on him, but unless the tech had been destroyed it would still be trackable. They probably had it somewhere in this facility. Unless he was in a new building now.
Wait, what if he wasn't in New York at all? When they knocked them out and kidnapped them the first time, they might have taken them somewhere completely different! Out of the city, state, country, anything was possible! He had no way of knowing how long it had been, either! They might have been out for minutes, hours, DAYS even, and they wouldn't know! What if they were separated now, further then just different rooms?!
Donnie realized he was hyperventilating, and did his best to control his breathing. "It's fine, totally fine, we'll get out of this." He took a deep breath. "Calm yourself, Donnie. You aren't dead yet, so there is still something you can do. I can fix this, I can fix this, I can totally fix this!"
Suddenly a man came into the room outside his cell.
"You know what it turns out I cannot fix this."
"Do you always talk to yourself?" said the man.
Yes.
"No."
The man laughed. He was wearing a black sleeveless vest that bulged with his huge muscles. His bulking arms were large and hairy, and he was wearing black shorts that did nothing to conceal the fact that his legs were the same. He was wearing a black mask of a demon over his head. Some scraggly grayish hair poked out of his head covering.
"What's with the all black clothes? Going through an emo phase?" he cracked. He sounded clever, the opposite of how he really felt.
"You're in no position to be making jokes, turtle," growled the man. "The name's Frithjof. It means 'thief of peace'. Cool, right?"
"I don't care what your name means!" he said.
"Hmph, rude," huffed Frithjof. "I think you deserve some torture for that, don't you think, turtle?"
Oh no, what did he do?!
Frithjof opened the cage, but only for a moment as he stepped in. "Get ready, turtle. You're in for a ride. A ride you deserve!"
As Frithjof stepped forward and toward him, Donnie felt cornered. Frithjof's huge, hairy hand came toward him. He tried to get away, but the cage was too small. Fridtjof gripped him by the plastron, and slammed him against the wall. It was excruciating without his battle shell, but he refused to even let out a whimper. He kept a straight face as he was pressed against the prison wall.
"You're coming with me, turtle," Frithjof said spitefully. He was dragged painfully along the wall as Frithjof took him to a new place.
By the time they got to wherever they were going, Donnie's shell was leaving blood on the wall as he was dragged along. He managed not to show how much this hurt, but it was difficult.
"We're here, turtle," said Frithjof. They were in front of another door. Donnie wondered what was inside.
Oh. That's what.
It was a circular glass room that overlooked where Donnie's brothers were. Raph was on one end, chained to a wall, occasionally being electrocuted by a strange man in black. Raph kept straining to escape from the chains.
Leo was in a room next to Raph. He was in a tank of water that kept almost-drowning him, but just when he was going to pass out it gave him some air. The man controlling it laughed at him as he clawed at his throat, unable to breathe.
Mikey was in yet another room, running on a strange contraption; it was sort of like if a treadmill and an obstacle course had a baby. It was circular and spun around as Mikey had to continuously do the obstacle course over and over. Any time he faltered, the woman torturing him would whip him.
He could hear his brothers cries of pain as they were tortured.
The second Donnie came into the circular glass room, they all saw him and immediately looked like they thought there was hope. That maybe Donnie could break the glass and save them.
"This is normal glass," commented Frithjof. "You could break it if you were strong enough."
Donnie immediately ran toward the glass and started hitting it with all his might. He smashed his shoulder into it, kicked it, punched it, did all he could, but it was fruitless. He wasn't strong enough. Raph could probably break it in a second.
"Guys, don't worry," he yelled. "I can break the glass. I can fix this, I can fix this, I can totally fix this!"
Frithjof struck him suddenly. "Fight me, squirt."
Any of his brothers could take this guy. But could he?
"I said, FIGHT ME!" yelled Frithjof. He stepped forward and punched his chest, sending him flying into a wall. He could hear his brothers cry out as he hit the glass, leaving a small crack behind. Donnie got up. He could do this. Of course he could. He was Donatello, the genius of the family. He, the Great Donatello, would never be defeated! (Let alone in front of his brothers.) He could fix this. He could fix anything!
He thought that maybe if he dodged Frithjof's hits he would hit the glass hard enough to break it. That was the only plan he had, so he had to go with it.
"You're taking too long!" Frithjof yelled. He made a move to punch him. Donnie tried to jump out of the way, doing quick calculations regarding where the fist would hit exactly, but Frithjof was too fast. Or rather, Donnie was too slow. The fist caught him on the shoulder, and he was knocked to the ground.
Pain was all he felt for a moment, fiery hot needles everywhere, but he quickly got to his feet. He needed to do better.
But he just kept getting hit, the same thing repeating over and over. He needed to do better! He needs to BE better!
He kept trying, kept being knocked to the ground. He knew that if he managed to get Frithjof to hit the glass instead of him, they could all escape. It was up to him; this was their one opportunity to escape! He gave it his all. Why wasn't it enough?
Why wasn't he enough?
Then Frithjof hit his head, and he passed out.
The last thing he remembered was the disappointed faces of his brothers.
Why couldn't he fix it?
A/N: Did I go too heavy on the angst? This is an angsty story. Angst for all four turtles. Anyway chapter 4 will be out either tomorrow or the day after. It depends on how productive I am.