RAPHAEL:

There's some sorta buzz rollin' around my brain. I turn over trying to ignore it.

"Yaaah!" Suddenly, nothin's underneath me and the ground rushes up to meet my face. I groan. Trying to get up, sparks abruptly flit across my vision. It's going to be another one of those days. Hangovers. My eyes won't open. So I wipe the grime from them instead and grope around a little. Damn, my head's throbbing. Where am I anyway? A wave of uproarious cheering followed by a sing-song voice echoes to my overly-sensitive ears as if to answer the question. Another groan. What have I gotten myself into now?

"Ah, you are avake. Guten tag."

I snap my head toward the heavy, accent-ridden voice. I nearly have to claw at my eyes to get them open. Finally, they do and I blink groggily. It's dim, but I spot a shadow hovering before me
.

"Who are you? And where the hell am I?"

"Ya, hell. Zhat is vhere you are."

"Say what?" I blink. What bad horror movie did this guy spring out of?

"It matters not. My name ist Yakobe. You be Raphael, no?"

"And how would you know that, creep?" I ask while stepping forward, but he rushes up to stop me.

"No! Stay back!"

Too late. Pain arcs through my arm, and I jolt back howling. Once again, I gather myself from the floor. My arm feels hot with needle-like pin pricks. I get up trying swing some feeling back into the limb. "What the-"

"If you wish to zurvive 'ere, tu'tle man, you muss stay alert."

"Damn it, just tell me where 'here' is or I'll pummel ya' into the ground!"

He leans forward on what looks like a broom. The low light, which I still haven't identified yet, chisels a mottled face deep shadows.

"Your threats are no'zhing 'ere, tu'tle man."

The sounds of distant cheers swell again. He doesn't seem phased by it, but I look around trying to find the source of it.
He senses my nervousness and adds, "Do not zhink you can ezcape."

An approaching howl startles us both. I'm not easily intimidated, but this place is given' me the creeps. He looks in another direction as if alarmed, and then turns back to me. The stranger gives me a long stare. In his slackened features I can read pity. Another monstrous scream. Whatever that thing was, it's getting closer. Yackobe hurries away.

"Wait! Get back here! Argh!" I growl then flip around and slam my fist on the nearest object. It was my bed, the same I oh-so-gracefully careened off of earlier. Musty straw explodes everywhere.

I inhale the smells deeply, trying to sort it all out. Dirt, sweat, wastes, and the most prominent, blood. Even more confused, I return to the bars. The bars- I hadn't notice them 'til now. Three metal walls along with ceiling and floor, and the fourth wall an open set of electric bars. Well, that explains the jolt.

It was a cage. A box. My breath becomes heavy again at the thought of being trapped. A cornered and ravenous animal, I attack the bed, ripping material to shreds, gutting and tossing clumps of straw everywhere, smashing a pale of water against a side wall, grinding a tin plate of stale food underfoot. Leaving nothing undestroyed, I finally slump to my knees panting. How could this have happened? I can't remember anything! What will my brothers and Splinter do? What will I do?

Shadows walking by my cage interrupt my reeling thoughts. Forgetting my miseries for the moment, I inch toward the bars for a better look. There are three men walking in the light, which I finally pinpoint as lamps hanging on distant structures. Two men edge around a large being. I cringe inwardly hearing the crack and snaps of whips followed by odd metal stings. The large thing in the middle moans despairingly as the blows rain mercilessly.

"Git' on! Hurry it up!" one gripes.

"Enough of that racket!" yells the second man.

Snap-ching!

I get as close to the bars as I dare. The shadows are still too solid to make out much. Slowly, they march past. Eventually, the tortuous sounds fade away too.

Well, this place just keeps getting better and better. I check over the walls for any weakened spots cracks, dents, rust…nothing. Getting discouraged, I lean against one of the metal walls and slide into sitting position. I don't care what Yakko or whatever his name is says. Somehow, I'm getting out of here.

I spent most of the night and the next morning pacing. Earlier a kid came by that I didn't recognize and groaned seeing my little disaster zone. It gave me some satisfaction at least. A sign that I'd gotten my point across loud 'n clear. He didn't return, and nothing happened the rest of the morning. By afternoon, though, a heavy and tall man approaches the cage giving me a long, studying look.

"What are ya' starin' at?" I growl, baring the fangs as I do.

"You will not speak unless spoken to."

I scoff. Another smart remark sat hot on my tongue, but a sudden movement diverts my attention. From inside his leather jacket he pulls out a tranquilizer gun. He loads it with a blank face, never taking his eyes from me. I know a challenge when I see one. I glare back. He lifts his arm, aiming the weapon directly at me. I twist away as a dart whizzes by and thunks uselessly against the back wall.

"Very good." He reloads and takes aim as if nothing had happened. Again, I study him carefully. His finger hit's the trigger, and I leap. After just landing in my new position, a dart lodges in my neck. I can see a ghost of a smirk as he lowers the weapon. Instantly I'm paralyzed from the dart's location down. Hardly able to breath, I watch as he powers down the bars and slides a door open. First, the man binds my useless limbs in chains. He then yanks the dart and out and quickly places an electronic collar on my neck. With the dart removed, all feeling returns to my lower body. He grabs the leash that was attached to the collar and jerks hard. "Come."

"What am I, a friggin' dog!"

My throat suddenly constricts with electric pulses, and I claw at it. Just before passing out, the collar stops. I sputter and cough much to his amusement. I know he's enjoying this no matter how flat the expression.

He repeats in a more stern tone, "Come."

I step forward. Look, if he just wants to take me for a walk, I'll play along. He won't know what hit 'em the second he lets his guard down.

The man nods approvingly. "Good. Now follow me."

I follow begrudgingly. His stride is confident and stiff compared to my heavy gait. I keep my eyes on him, waiting for that moment while using my side vision to take in the digs. There is a span of clustered tents and flimsy structures rustling in a lazy breeze. We even pass a cage similar to mine, but it was empty. Nothing interesting there, so I switch to my attention to the right side. Off in the distance, I spot the dominant structure. A Ferris wheel. Around it I can see other things sticking up a bit, but not enough to make 'em out. Great. So I'm trapped in some sorta demented amusement park? Didn't I see this in a movie somewhere?

He suddenly stops me in a stall-like area.

"Stay," he commands.

Yeah, whatever. I refuse to wag my tail…. He turns around. There it is! My moment! Balling my fist up, I snap for his head like a whip lash. Just before contact though, my throat inflames again, and I cough sporadically as my vision blacks out. Like before, it soon lifts and I'm left heaving in mockery.

"No." He says simply.

I grind my teeth to keep from spitting in his face. He turns around again. I consider doin' another move, but cold water suddenly blasts me in the face. I can't help but sputter and gasp. He shoves a bar of soap and a brush over. "Clean up."

I take 'em, grimacing at the encrusted brush. I don't wanna know where that's been. No way I'm usin' it. He studies me as I lather myself down with my hands. What a pervert. Doesn't he have anything better to do then watch a guy shower? My captor finally gives an unamused look, the first facial expression I've seen so far. After rolling up his sleeves, he takes the brush from my hand and steps behind me. I hear a hallowed bristle sound and feel a pressure on my shell as he scrubs it. I stiffen. That's just wrong. The suds swirl down the rusty and encrusted drain as I hold completely still. Occasionally, he scrubs so hard that I have to grab the shower head to keep from falling forward. After several minutes, the sounds turn raspy. I glance downward seeing chunks starting to clog the drain. Not really surprising. Sewers have that buildup effect on the shell, especially when you can't reach it. What's he goin' though all this trouble for anyway?

He turns the shower off and tosses me a tattered towel. I unfold it, and my bandana falls out unexpectedly.

"Put it on," he directs.

With a sneer, I towel off and tie the bandana on tightly. It feels snug and familiar.

"Come." This time he doesn't jerk the leash.

Might as well go with the flow for now. I'll let him think he's boss for awhile and catch him unawares soon.

We walk along again. The scenery doesn't change much. Finally, we pause at a large structure. Revolting smells are wafting from it. People. A lot of people. He knocks three times and the door opens to admit us. It leads into some sort of dark backstage area. We stop once the man talks to someone else in whispers. I can't make it out. He starts walking again, and of course, like a good dog I amble along behind. Suddenly we walk out onto a stage. I immediately halt and resist the line.
"Come," he snarls, showing anger this time.

I let my eyes dart over the gazing crowd. All eyes focus directly on me.

"Come!" he jerks the line so hard, I fall forward in my dazed state. They're whispering, shifting, pointing, gawking. I fight down an inward shudder. Anything but this.

An announcer joins us on the stage, calling out, "And here you have it folks, our newest mutant addition. The name? Spitfire! Be sure to place your bets wisely for the competition tonight, Spitfire versus Alloy! You can't lose with this one!"

The crowd easily picks up his enthusiasm.

"Let's check his stats, shall we?" he grins.

The crowd cheers as the announcer hands my captor a scale. He sets it down in front of me.

"Step up," he commands.

I ignore him, still watching the crowd. My throat blocks up with zapping pulses yet again and I stagger.

"Step up," he says slowly through clenched teeth. I step up. Defeated. Humiliated.

"Two hundred and thirty pounds of raw flesh, gentlemen, two hundred and thirty!" The announcer booms with a rushed voice.

There's a dull roar of murmuring. From there they force me to turn, walk, pose, flex, jump, they even shatter a thick board across my shell to show its durability. After completely exploring my potential, the man leads me away. Once back stage, I jerk the line to get his attention.

"I'd rather die and go to hell then fight for them." I stare at him completely serious and rigid.

He leans an inch from my face, "You will."

"NO!" I snap. He nearly reaches for the button on the leash, but I relax and try to appear calmer.

"There are worse things then hell, Raphael." He seems to be rewarding my self-control with conversation, but at this point I didn't give a damn. And how the hell does everyone know my name? I wanted to shout it, but it would be getting off the topic.

I glare at him instead. "Enlighten me."
"If we do not get your full cooperation, your punishment will be taken out on your brothers."

I reeled, "My brothers? They're here?"

He nodded the affirmative, "They're in the infirmary and if you want them to ever recover and be released, you will fight tonight."

I slumped. He had won.