Short update this time. The overall plot is still in its formative stages, so if you have any suggestions for future chapters, go for it!

And yes, I know this chapter is a bit gory compared to the cartoons, but let's be realistic here: when you fight for a living, you get hurt. So if blood freaks you out, prepare to cover your eyes.

And a big thanks to Shikamaruchick for being the first to review.

Shredder woke up to the unpleasant sensation of having water poured over his head. He shook his wet hair out of his eyes, wondered briefly about the lack of helmet, and then looked down. And screamed.

He seemed to be soaking in an entire tub of blood. "Relax, Shredder," muttered a turtle from the floor beside him. "We're just cleaning you up. You're okay."

"Whose... whose blood is this? And why am I lying in it?"

"It's bathwater. Relax." A green head peeked over the edge of the tub. "Yeah, it's kind of bloody, but hey, that's what happens when you get cut. We just want to be able to see the extent of the damage. Hence the no shirt." A beat. "You don't have any injuries on your legs, do you?"

"No," Shredder said quickly before bothering to check. If they thought he was removing his pants, they had another think coming. He felt vulnerable enough as it was, sitting half-naked, without his armor, and with – he realized this all of a sudden – a broken arm. It was a bad break, and the sight made his stomach turn.

"Okay. Splinter will be right back. Try not to throw up on yourself," the turtle advised, "Because the hot water's on the blink and we might have trouble drawing you another bath."

Shredder nodded. It was good to concentrate on not vomiting – it allowed him to take his mind off all the other unpleasantries going on with his body.

"Keep your arm out of the water, if you can." The turtle stood and looked down at him. Purple headband. Donatello.

"Why? It…hurts to move." Shredder overcame his reluctance to own up to feeling pain.

Donatello laughed. "No surprises there. We'll want to ice it to keep the swelling down, so don't soak it in the warm water. Later on Splinter will set it for you. Relax – he does it fast and well and in a few months you won't even know the difference. Want a towel?"

"Yes." He didn't like leaning on the turtle to stand up, but it was that or risk falling and injuring himself worse. Shredder toweled off his torso clumsily but avoided touching his freakishly bent left arm.

"Oh." Donatello looked surprised. "You've dislocated your elbow, too? That can't be helping. Here, let me-"

Shredder hadn't had time to brace himself and he hissed a furious protest when Donatello yanked his elbow back in place. It was all he could do to remain on his feet, and the turtle had to help him over to a table to lie down on. By the time he was finally arranged, the rat was in the doorway.

Splinter sat down and without preamble touched the gash that was bleeding the heaviest. "What is this?"

Shredder frowned, trying to remember. "It was the beast's claws," he said finally. "It's not poisonous, but I think a piece broke off in there. You'll have to pull it out."

"And this? Did it leave any fragments in you over here?"

"Um…" Shredder shook his head. "I don't remember – can't you just sew up the worst one and ask me about the others later?"

Splinter sighed. "If you wish. But I expect you to be out of your head with pain in a few minutes and totally unable to give me coherent answers."

Shredder's eyes widened. "Don't worry," Donatello interjected uncertainly, "I think he's kidding. Master Splinter just likes to prepare for the worst."

But Splinter hadn't been kidding. Shredder ruptured a blood vessel in his face with the effort of holding still while the rat pulled out bloody chunks of foreign matter from his wounds and sewed them closed with a huge veterinary needle. He stayed conscious almost until the end, panting helplessly and watching three gashes sewed closed and four puncture wounds bandaged.

He thought it was over, but then he heard the turtle speaking, the words vague and echoing. "I really think you should stitch that last one, too, to be on the safe side," Donatello was saying.

The world greyed out as Shredder watched Splinter pick up the needle once again, and by the time the stitches started he was finally unconscious. His last thought was, And they haven't even set my arm yet.

TBC. What do you think so far?