Little Brother
By Maikafuiniel
Chapter 13
The Dime Tour
Michelangelo slowly walked down hallway after hallway, trying to remember the direction they had come and went- but it was impossible. There were dozens of different directions, and whoever had built the complex must have made it a maze on purpose.
There were no windows to explain where he was, and he was almost certain by now that he was in the technodrome. Everything was just too… metallic.
But it wasn't just the labyrinth of halls that bothered him, it was the direction that his thoughts had headed in that were worse.
He knew he had to escape, and soon; but there was so much he could do while he was here. Damage, for one thing. He could mess the computers up good and proper before he left, making it harder for Shredder to damage them when he next came up against his brothers in a fight. He knew that he wasn't an expert at using computers, but one thing he had been able to pick up from Donny was how to mess one up.
Besides that, it was obvious that whatever had been done to him wasn't something he would be able to figure out on his own- no matter how much he tried. Even Donny had been hard pressed to figure out what was going on. Of course, he thought to himself, that was before I got kidnapped. Maybe Donny's managed to come up with something.
He knew wishful thinking when he saw it though.
Everything combined, it really did make for a good reason to stay here until the guys rescued him. He could do some damage, he might be able to get into the science labs that were no doubt abound, and maybe… well, he had fought against the ninjas that worked for Shredder enough times to know they used different types of moves.
Splinter had always taught them how to take down and incapacitate an opponent; at least until the cops were able to get down there and pick them up. The foot on the other hand, fought to win. Even if it meant killing one of the turtles, they fought to win. And so they had a wide variety of different moves they could use that Splinter had never allowed in the Dojo.
He knew that he shouldn't be wanting to learn that kind of thing, but the memory of not being allowed to even hold his own weapons! It stung, deeper then he would have liked to admit.
He had always been the kidder of the group, the joker, but what nobody wanted to admit was that he had feelings too. It wasn't easy, always being the butt of every insult and joke that got passed around. And training, as hard as it was, was a way to vent off some of the frustration that he couldn't sieve off in public.
And that was gone.
Sure, this was like… well, just plain wrong. But if it meant he didn't have to give up training completely for another couple years, and maybe even learn some new moves, it wasn't something he was just going to pass up.
Having to put up with the horrible name notwithstanding.
As he continued to walk, he decided to tune back into whatever Bebop had been talking about the entire time- and nearly slapped himself at what he heard.
"And over there," Bebop continued, "That's one of the labs. You ain't allowed in there, 'ever. I went in there once, with Rocksteady, and we got in loads of trouble."
He snorted, not seeing the glazed look on the younger turtles face, and continued. "And right over there's the advance trainin' room. Shredder say's it's only for the bes', so I'm no allowed in there either.
"And right over there is where we can be, you know, lazy? 'S the lounge. You're allowed in there, but you should probably knock, just in case. Got that all?"
Mikey nodded despondently, though Bebop didn't seem to notice, and he pointed to another door. "That there's the bathroom. Can you use it by yourself, 'cause I don't know much 'bout kids, and if you get hurt Shredder is gonna-"
Mikey shook his head quickly, trying to pretend he wasn't embarrassed by the very notion of the very thought of Bebop helping him in the bathroom- pint size version or not. Locking the door behind him carefully, he turned to the mirror.
He watched himself carefully for a moment, staring at his reflection through his glasses, and came to his decision. If he had to be a three year old… he might as well make the most of it.
