Rating: T for occasional language. Also, see other warnings. Rating subject to change in later chapters.
Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters belong to Nickelodeon.
Summary: Bradford has always blamed Michelangelo for his misfortunes and especially for his mutation so when he manages to capture the young ninja, he's going to make sure he knows exactly what it's like. 2k12 AU.
Warning: Warnings for physical and mental torture in this story abound, as well as for implied and highly disturbing situations. Trigger warnings may apply for some chapters. There will not, however, be gruesome details. Some things are best left up to the imagination.
A/N: I have been working on this story since February last year (2019) and so far, have written well in excess of 176k words for it and I'm probably only about 2/3rds of the way through the story. A couple of weeks ago, I went and sorted most of it into chapters and though I'm not done yet, I currently have 33 chapters. Suffice it to say, this one is long. It may be based on a familiar trope but I like to think I've done things differently (at least, I've never read anything like this tale) so I hope you will give it a chance.
One thing I need to do is give a shoutout to Athese. I was inspired for this story by a scene in one of her old stories and it just would not leave me alone. I sat on the vague idea for about 3 weeks, then one hot night when I couldn't sleep, it came back into my head and started circling. I realised who the villain was and therefore which universe and everything immediately fell into place. Over 2 hours later, I gave up trying to sleep and started frenetically writing. I've barely looked back since, nor to any of my other stories. You can blame this (among other real-life garbage) for the exceedingly slow updates on my 'AOtGO' multiverse.
Whelp! Not entirely sure I should start posting this yet but here goes!
How Much is that Turtle in the Window
ch 1
"Ah, you are awake at last, turtle."
Moaning in pain and bewilderment at hearing the deep, menacing voice far too close for his liking, Mikey struggled to open his eyes. Man, but his head hurt. And his shell, his stomach, his liver, his... everything. Everything hurt. Even his teeth and eyeballs. A sudden excruciating twist of his arm had him gasping in pain and crying out, his eye flying open all the way. The other was so badly swollen he could barely see out of it. Ignoring the pain, he whipped his head around, trying to work out what was going on when he saw Dogpound's maliciously grinning form towering over him, looking delighted and mean. That was when he remembered. He'd been starving and since there was almost no food left in the lair other than cereal, fruit and ramen, he'd snuck out after curfew to get a late-night snack. As he'd been about to return home, full and feeling sleepy at last, Dogpound had appeared and taken him by surprise. He'd been badly outnumbered so he tried to run but he'd been taken down regardless. Far too fast for his liking.
Mikey tried frantically to struggle free but his hands were chained tightly behind him and from the little movement he had, connected to his ankles. It was impossible to run. Or even walk for that matter. An evil laugh that sent a shudder down his spine boomed across the room and his head still spinning, he turned to stare up at the Shredder in terror, realising that that was who had spoken. 'No! Nonononono, no!' he quailed internally. This couldn't be happening! It just couldn't! He'd only gone out for a snack and it had been quiet the last few days thanks to the weather so how had this happened? Since he didn't have anyone to bounce off of he'd been quiet for once and he'd made it a point to stick to the shadows so how?
"You've actually done something right for a change, Bradford, bringing me this rare gift."
He shuddered at the sound of the pleased smile in the Shredder's voice.
Dogpound bowed respectfully. "Master."
Shredder turned his dread gaze on Mikey, making him sink back in a fruitless effort to get away. "Do you have anything to say, Turtle?" he asked, laughing darkly as his eye bore into him.
Mikey felt sick. His stomach churned in terror but he jut his chin out and glared defiantly. "My brothers will come for me!"
"Oh, I fully agree," Shredder all but purred in satisfaction, "and since this will be the first place they look, you will just have to be shipped elsewhere. Bradford, make arrangements to ship it to the Foot Compound in Japan where it will never be found again. You'll be joining it to make sure it gets there safely."
"At once, Master Shredder," Dogpound replied in satisfaction, bowing deeply again.
Mikey gasped in horror. No! If they sent him there, his family would never find him. "You can't do this!" he yelled desperately.
"On the contrary, you reptilian freak, I can do as I like," Shredder smiled nastily. Then he turned to Bradford, fixing his unnerving, scarred visage on the former human. "The next time I see either of you, I want it cowed and obedient. Have it trained like the mongrel it is."
"With pleasure, Master," Bradford growled menacingly. He gave Mikey a triumphant look, filling him with dread before turning to the Foot Soldiers holding him firmly in place. Not that he could have gotten very far, being chained hand to foot like this. "Bring him to the dungeons."
As he was lifted into the air, Mikey yelled, struggling valiantly to be free and was dropped headfirst onto the ground for his efforts. "C-come on, d-dudes," he stuttered painfully as the faceless soldiers simply picked him up again, "y-you d-don't really want to d-do this, do you?" he begged. There was no reply other than to step into a darkened corridor and begin descending down a steep staircase, carrying him so his head angled down. Mikey swallowed as nausea took hold again. This really wasn't doing much for his head, what with everything swaying in and out of his vision and the dizzying movement. "Y-you don't really want to be the type of soldiers who follow orders blindly, do you?"
Still nothing. So Mikey tried again. He had no hope of getting out of this by himself but if he could buy time for his brothers to find him, it would be worth any ire he attracted.
"Are y-you seriously saying, dudes, that if the Shredder or Dogbreath here told you to jump off a bridge, you'd do it?" He shivered. It was so cold and he felt so sick. Just how badly did he get injured anyway? He didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to. "Would you run over the edge screaming, Shredder forever or something stupid? Like you were in some lame-o movie?"
Suddenly, a large hand wrapped tightly around his neck, cutting off his breath and Dogpound snarled, hot air blowing in his face, "I suggest you shut that big mouth of yours, you pathetic little mongrel, before we shut it for you permanently! Do you understand me?"
Mikey nodded frantically, desperate, wheezing noises being the only sound he could make. Satisfied, Bradford released him and Mikey glared up at the former man, sticking his tongue out at him once his back was turned. He had no intention of keeping quiet, being annoying was his greatest talent but right now, after being choked like that, he couldn't talk even if he wanted to. He needed to get his breath and sense of balance back again first and to do that, he needed to close his eyes because he couldn't do that with everything continuously swirling around him.
Unfortunately, closing his eyes wasn't much better, he could still feel the swaying and bumpy movement and more than once, a part of his body thumped into the walls as the soldiers manhandling him turned around the curve of the stairs but far too quickly, his body levelled out and he realised they'd reached the bottom. The dungeons. The Foot Soldiers holding him dropped him painfully onto the ground, crushing his hands beneath him and causing him to yelp. Apprehensively, he opened his eyes again, only to see he was in a torture chamber surrounded by cells and shackles hanging from the walls.
"Get Stockman," Dogpound snarled at a nearby guard.
Mikey saw the guard bow slightly before running off, silent as death and he struggled again, testing the strength of the chains but to no avail. Thankfully, Bradford didn't even look at him. Mikey rocked and rolled to his knees then looked around in terror, wondering why they were down here when Shredder had demanded he be sent away. Why, oh why had he snuck out? He should have just had a piece of fruit or a bowl of cereal instead of going out for pizza. At least he left a note just in case one of his brothers woke up and found him missing but what if they didn't and no one found it in time? He was so screwed!
Dogpound turned and smirked at him, causing Mikey to freeze up, then he about-faced, walking over to a forge and firing it up. Just then, a shuffling sound drew his attention and he turned to see a nervous Baxter Stockman enter the room.
"What took you so long?" Dogpound barked furiously. "We're on a timetable here!"
"S-sorry, sir, I-I was sleeping."
"No excuses!" Dogpound growled, backhanding the hapless scientist and knocking him into the wall. Mikey winced, glad it wasn't him before remembering he was in a far worse situation. At least Stockman wasn't chained and completely helpless the way he was. He grit his teeth and tried to struggle free again.
"W-what did you need me for, sir?" Stockman stuttered timidly as he picked himself up.
"We have a new guest who needs to be collared like the mongrel he is and branded as Foot property," Bradford purred, turning to watch Mikey as he spoke, a pleased smirk lighting his furred face.
"W-what?" Mikey gasped in disbelief. But... but he wasn't property, they couldn't do this! His gaze fearfully flickered to the now blazing forge. Dogpound picked up a long pole with something on the end and inserted it into the fire where he let it lay. He'd seen enough movies and played enough games to know a branding iron when he saw one and he felt the terror rise even more.
"Uh... no offence, Mr Bradford, sir b-but... why do you need me? I'm a sci-scientist! Not a torturer!" Stockman argued, glancing over at Mikey and sneering before returning his frightened gaze to Dogpound
"You are to fit him with a metal dog collar and make sure it cannot be removed. The lock must be unpickable!
"Seriously, dude, you can't do this!" Mikey yelled in fright. They couldn't! It was inhumane! Surely not even Chris Bradford could be that cruel.
"You turned me into a dog, it's only fitting that I return the favour," Bradford snarled, glaring daggers at him. Mikey was glad the former man was across the room. He was sure it was the only thing that stopped him being kicked again.
"But that... that wasn't my fault!" he cried desperately. "You did that to yourself! We tried to warn you about the mutagen but you attacked anyway!" Mikey struggled all the harder, causing the cuffs from the manacles to cut painfully into his wrists and ankles. He had to get away! But... he was chained too tightly. He couldn't even have crab-walked away.
"I have just the thing," Stockman mused thoughtfully, his fear seemingly dissipating as his mind worked on the problem given him. He came over to measure the circumference of Mikey's neck before inspecting the pre-formed collars hanging on a wall near the forge. "Hmm, the fit may be a little tight but this one will work, that or you can get a blacksmith to construct one that fits the turtle properly."
"No time," Dogpound growled impatiently, fixing Stockman with a glare. "Long as it's not so tight it kills the mongrel, it'll do. As I said, we're on a tight timetable before the mongrel's family comes looking for him."
Mikey perked up slightly at the reminder of his family, then despaired as he realised they were rushing him out after... he gulped, his gaze flickering unbidden back to the forge that was uncomfortably close. He could feel the heat even from here, across the room by the stairs where he'd been dropped.
Holding a rough-looking metal circle in his hands, Stockman strode towards Mikey, slowing nervously as he came close. He peeked up at the nearby guards and with a movement that suggested a rolling of the eyes, the guards moved in to hold Mikey firmly in place. Stockman swallowed and crouched down in front of him, reaching out with the metal collar. Mikey's eyes grew wide and he shifted desperately in place, trying to keep out of reach. To make his neck inaccessible. Before he could withdraw it into his shell, however, one of the soldiers grabbed hold of it cruelly, holding him in place as Stockman opened the metal circle wide, clasping it around his neck and locking it in place. It hugged his throat with barely a millimetre gap, leaving him unable to swallow properly.
"Please," he begged desperately. "It's too tight, I can barely breathe."
"Put the turtle face down on the table and keep its head still," Stockman commanded, getting up and walking across the room again.
To his terror, Mikey was picked up off the ground and carried to the table where he was forced down on his plastron. His chains were partially loosened, allowing him to straighten his legs at last and make a run for it, if only he wasn't being held firm. Then the cuff around one wrist was removed and despite his attempt to punch his way free, both were yanked painfully down the side of the table and clamped in place.
"What are you doing, Stockman?" Dogpound demanded, watching the timid human across the room. Fighting back tears of terror and pain, Mikey managed to look up to see the scientist mixing something in a small bowl.
"You wanted the collar to be impossible to pick so I'm mixing a hard, fast-setting resin to fill the lock. That collar will never be coming off again. Even trying to cut it off, given that it's flush with his skin, will do more damage to the turtle than it would be worth," Stockman smirked, his previous fear forgotten.
"No! Don't!" Mikey screamed. "Let me go! Don't do this!" he begged as Stockman came over and poured the liquid resin into the lock of the collar at the back of his neck. But Mikey knew, even if Stockman wasn't more afraid of his current employers, he hated him and his brothers and as far as he was concerned, this was well-deserved payback. It was all Mikey could do not to sob at the sheer unfairness of the situation.
"Keep holding the turtle still while it sets. You can release him in fifteen minutes," Stockman instructed, turning away to dispose of the remains of his mixture.
Mikey stared down at the floor, his heart pounding and his chest heaving, unable to move as two soldiers continued to hold his head in place. He guessed it was so he didn't try to turn and spill the resin before it set. He tried all the harder and was cuffed in the head for his efforts.
"I am so going to enjoy causing you just a fraction of the pain you've caused me, freak."
"You're... you're insane," Mikey gasped, desperately.
Bradford smiled and it was a nasty sight. "The brand should be hot enough by now. May as well take the chance to brand you while you're tied down," he chuckled darkly.
Mikey's eyes shot up in panic as he tried again to twist his head to look as his tormentor. "No! Come on, dude! It's not my fault you're an evil minion and that you mutated yourself!"
Bradford growled. He backhanded Mikey viciously across the face, making him see stars again as his ears rang.
"Dogs don't talk, Michelangelo, so much as I enjoy hearing you screaming and begging, I suggest you shut up and be silent!"
"You're- you're a dog and you talk," Mikey retorted shakily. Anything to distract the mutant from his task and buy more time for his brothers to find and rescue him. He cringed at the thought. His brothers probably didn't even know he was gone yet but as soon as they woke up and found the note and realised he wasn't back, they'd come looking. Trouble was, he didn't even know how long he'd been unconscious for before waking up in Shredder's throne room and if it was daytime already...
He was so, so screwed!
"I hear there're two ways to deal with noisy dogs. The first is removing their voice boxes."
They wouldn't! Mikey gasped in terror, cringing back as far as the chains and Foot Soldiers holding him would allow.
"Unfortunately, we don't have time for that since the longer we delay, the more chance of your pathetic brothers turning up there is," Bradford mused thoughtfully and making Mikey sigh in relief. Dogpound's grin turned wicked. "Besides, Master Shredder wants you trained, therefore, we'll have to go with option number two, training you not to speak. Stockman, design the mongrel another collar that'll shock it every time it speaks."
Mikey's eyes boggled and he gasped for breath that was hard to come by. The collar he was already wearing was far too tight.
"It'll take me half a day to make something sturdy enough to last," Stockman warned. "A day if you want something more than just the basics."
"I told you we don't have the time for that!" Bradford snarled, making Stockman cringe in fear again. "I have to take him away from here within the hour!"
"Where... where are you taking him?" Stockman stuttered.
'Yeah, where are you taking me?' Mikey thought, faint from pain, fear and lack of sufficient breath.
"Shipping container," Bradford grunted dismissively as he stalked out of Mikey's sight, "and from there, he'll be shipped by boat to Japan and Foot headquarters. So he needs to be kept quiet so he can't attract attention!"
"When does the ship leave?"
"Don't know yet. I still have to arrange it," Bradford admitted. "If there isn't one leaving New York within the next couple of days, I'll have to consider ships leaving from ports in other cities."
"Then... might I suggest you gag and muzzle him for now and I'll make the collar before you ship the turtle out. But either way, you'll have to make sure he can't undo the muzzle or later the collar once it's attached."
"That won't be a problem," Dogpound growled, sounding all too pleased with himself.
'What does that mean?' Mikey whined, still staring ahead at the place where he lost sight of Dogpound as best he could; it was hard with the collar so tight and limiting his movement, not to mention the Foot soldiers continuing to hold him in place. His heart racing wildly in his chest, he continued shaking as the two evil minions discussed his immediate future out of his sight. He couldn't help but whimper as he suddenly felt Dogpound's presence at his left again.
"Hold the mongrel's arm still," he ordered. Mikey's head was immediately released and it dropped, the wide collar digging into his neck at the unexpected movement. He gasped and choked for breath.
"Mongrel?" Stockman questioned curiously.
"It's a mixed breed of turtle and human, isn't it?" Dogpound countered. "At any rate, Shredder wants it treated and trained as one and I couldn't be happier with the idea," Bradford smirked as both soldiers took hold of Mikey's arm, holding it painfully tight. He tried to wrench free. He tried to fight but to no avail. He couldn't budge in the slightest.
Suddenly a searing pain shot into his upper arm, just below the shoulder and he screamed in agony as the smell of burning flesh reached his nostrils.
"Now you are marked forever as property of the Foot," Bradford sneered as he stepped in front of a panting Mikey, holding the red glowing brand of the Foot symbol in front of his eyes. "Treat the burn, Stockman, I don't want it getting infected. If Master Shredder's new pet dies or loses an arm, you will take his place."
As the evil scientist began working on his burnt flesh, being none too gentle in the process, the pain became too much and Mikey's eyes rolled up in the back of his head.
-:-
Comments, thoughts and concrit are always welcome.
* If you ever see my stories posted anywhere other than under the name Zelgadis55 at Deviant Art, FFNet, AO3 or Live Journal, then they have been stolen. Please report them.