Chapter Six: Procedure.

Donatello nervously chewed his long fingernails while he waited for Baxtor Stockman to enter the office. He glanced at April standing attentively in the corner of the room. The woman stared back with a small frown on her face, obviously partially disgusted with his nail-biting habits. Yet although he never did it while he was a turtle, for some reason, when Donatello found himself in this foreign, human world, the man couldn't stop fidgeting. 'Maybe I am schizophrenic,' Donatello bitterly thought to himself, remembering that nail biting was a common behavior exhibited by people with the same condition as him.

Don quickly turned his head towards the sound of a doorknob turning. Baxtor Stockman, complete with two arms, a pair of legs and a head, entered. As he watched the doctor walk over to his desk, Donatello had to admit that it was incredibly surreal to see the man without any hideous abnormalities. Stockman gave Don a little smile before sitting in his seat and leaning forward on the desk; as though he was extremely interested in what mental patient had to say. "I take it that you're getting used to this place," Stockman stated, starting off the discussion.

"I am," Donatello admitted.

"So you no longer think I'm your enemy?" the doctor questioned.

"Well… you aren't now. But you are in my dreams," Don nervously answered, hoping he didn't upset the man. Instead, Stockman simply grinned in understanding. Donatello wondered if that was his way of laughing.

"As long as we can be friends now, I don't think whatever happens in your fantasy world really matters," Stockman said. Donatello appreciated the fact that the man was trying his best to make him feel comfortable in his surroundings, but he still couldn't ignore that tiny pang of guilt that he was dishonouring his family. "So why have you decided to see me all of a sudden? Why the change of heart?" Stockman wondered.

"I just wanted to learn more about myself… I want to be healthy again," Donatello admitted.

"Well done. Admitting you have a problem is a great first step in the recovery process," the scientist supported Don's words.

"So… what happens now?" Donatello asked.

"Danny, there's only so much that we can do. A lot of it is your responsibility," Stockman started to explain.

"I, I don't think I'm strong enough," Donatello faltered, knowing how many doubts gripped his subconscious.

"That's okay, we're here for you," April spoke up from her quiet spot in the corner of the office.

"She's right. We're not your enemies. In fact, in this world, you have no enemies whatsoever. Everyone's willing to help you, Danny. Now you just have to do your part," Stockman said, his words becoming very appealing to Donatello. As a turtle, he had always dreamed what it would be like to have no one to fight. The constant day-to-day fear he experienced just by simply being a mutant had gradually eroded and worn down his spirit. He was tired of being hunted. So incredibly tired. Now he had the chance to take a holiday from all the horror and chaos associated with being a teenage mutant ninja turtle. But there was one catch. It was permanent.

"So what exactly do I have to do?" Donatello warily inquired.

"You need to start detaching yourself from your fantasy," Stockman said rather bluntly. There was a look of confusion upon Donatello's face, but the expression was quickly followed with the hint of resounding fear.

"You mean… I have to kill them… Everyone?" Donatello asked, his voice hopelessly wavering. Once again he started to question whether or not he had made the right choice in seeking help in this bleak, hospitalised world.

"Not necessarily. You have to find a way that will work best for you. However, if the death of your so-called brothers means that you definitely won't return to your fantasy, then yes, you might have to consider it as an option," Stockman informed him.

"If you don't mind me interrupting…" April spoke up once again. "You've already tried to kill off your family. It's been attempted numerous times now. You got rather close to it last month, but in the end you simply weren't mentally strong enough. You have to be determined – no doubts," April advised. Donatello felt numb. Her words had made his heart yank and his skin chill and shiver with bad memories.

She was right; he had tried just recently. This wasn't the first time he had unexpectedly traveled to another world. There was another, in an unknown time or reality… at least he hoped it was an alternate universe and not simply some harsh warning of things yet to come. Unfortunately it seemed to be set in the future. Shredder controlled the world. His brothers were no longer young, but bitter and brutal instead. He remembered them all dying. One by one. How witnessing it snapped and tore at his heart till he too died, at least on the inside. Yet amongst all the death and destruction, Don couldn't deny that little shimmer of relief that fluttered inside his veins, like a bird that had been set free from its cage for the very first time. The feeling of impending doom had been vanquished. He no longer had to fight or hide any more. At last he could have peace. And April was there with him.

If what the scientists were saying was true, then Donatello was simply trying to snap out of his fantasy world by destroying the very things that held him in that place. April would have been incorporated from real life, and used in that circumstance to guide him through the separation phase. But obviously it was failure. He had invented another loophole, blamed the entire event on the war staff and time scepter, before meeting up with his brothers again as though nothing had ever happened. So once again, the Shredder wasn't killed, and his family never died, just like some never ending episodic dream.

"I don't think I can go through with this," Donatello admitted, starting to feel sick in his stomach.

"You have to, Danny," April urged him.

"Danny, you have to understand the amount of stress your body is under. The parts of the brain that control all of your physical functions and motor reflexes are at war with your subconscious. Your dream is eventually going to kill you. If you don't start getting active, you'll be reduced to being pushed about in a wheelchair. Your muscles need to be used and strengthened, and you can't do that if you're constantly catatonic!" Stockman lectured.

"Really?" Donatello didn't like what he hearing.

"Really. Trust me, your body is begging to be awakened. You just need to get your overriding, subconscious mind to accept that fact. Your condition may be unique, but it's also incredibly serious and life threatening," Stockman advised him, his voice taking on an extremely serious tone.

"I, I didn't know the mind could be so powerful," Don stuttered, almost beginning to be frightened by himself.

"Of course it is. There are many mental illnesses where the patient's body suffers as a result. Anorexia nervosa is one. A person's inner thoughts are so strong that they can convince themselves to starve. Bulimia is similar, where the mind convinces the victim to be physically sick. I once treated a patient who truly believed their soul had been invaded by demons, and as a result of that false blame, they ripped into their own skin and clawed at the walls till their fingers bled. So your mind, whether that is consciously or subconsciously, can play a huge role on your health," Stockman summarised.

"But… do I have to kill my brothers? I'm not sure I can do that."

"If you can, do it. If you don't need to, then don't. You just need to distance yourself from your make-believe world, using the most effective method you can think of," Stockman said with the hint of a wicked smirk.

"Okay. I'll try," Don softly agreed.

"No. That's not good enough. You've tried before. This time you must do it!" the male doctor urged him.

"Fine. I'll do it!" Donatello said, more determined.

"Good." Stockman was pleased.

"But… what if I can't wake up again?" Don wondered. Stockman and April gave each other a worried glance.

"Unfortunately, there's no guarantee that you will return to us," the man admitted. Donatello watched as Stockman paused for a few seconds while he rummaged through the drawers in his desk. With a little clack, the scientist popped open a small, cylindrical white container and shook out two capsules. "If you take this medicine, you should be more lucid," Stockman said, standing up and walking around the desk in order to hand him the pills. "I'll give you some water. I'll be back in a sec." With that, the man vacated the room, but Don knew that he'd return within the minute.

Donatello glanced at April and noticed that her gaze was focused on the door, awaiting Stockman's return. Very quickly, trying his best not to look conspicuous, Don snapped open the two capsules. With a tiny shake of his hand, he dumped the powdery contents on his lap, figuring that no one would notice once he stood up. He no longer knew what he was doing. It was as though he didn't want to commit or put a firm belief in either world. Taking medicine seemed too suspicious to him, though a part of him knew that schizophrenics had trust issues. Just as he had predicted, Stockman returned with a plastic cup of water in hand. "Here you go."

In one swift movement, Don placed the empty capsules towards the back of his tongue before taking a large gulp of water. Stockman saw him put something in his mouth, but the action was too fast for him to discover that the medicine had been tampered with. "Open up," Stockman instructed. Donatello allowed his mouth to be inspected, though naturally he had nothing to hide. "Good," Stockman smiled. "We should take you back to your room now."

Donatello's mind began to drift. He wondered if the trace elements of that medicine had any affect on him, or if he was just simply tired. In this world, he was never awake for too long. Two men supported his body from either side and helped him to walk back to his padded cell. By the time he got there, his vision had already blackened. Focusing his mind, Don knew where he wanted to wake up.

"Donny? You awake?" Leonardo quietly asked.

Donatello groaned slightly as he sat up in his bed. He knew that he'd be safe in his bedroom, however his entire family wasn't there – only Leonardo. "Yeah, I'm up," Don tiredly answered.

"You shouldn't scare me like that," Leo said, though he gave his brother a small smile. Don simply nodded in return.

"How long was I out?"

"Only an hour."

"Really? It felt like ages," Donatello murmured.

"I haven't told the others about what happened. I figured you needed your rest," Leo explained.

"I appreciate that," Don said with a faint smile.

"Don? I've been thinking… I really don't think you should come with us when we break into Chaplin's lab," Leonardo said. He was using his 'leader voice', the one that would make Raphael cringe every time that tone was used.

"But why?" Just like Raph in those circumstances, Don also felt the sudden urge to yell out in defiance.

"Don, you need to think realistically here. What happens if you fall unconscious in the middle of the mission? How will we get you out of there? I'm just saying that you shouldn't feel obliged to come; that it's okay to stay behind. Leatherhead's willing to come as well, so you don't have to worry about us grabbing the wrong ingredients for the antidote," Leonardo expressed his concerns. Donatello stayed silent for a few moments, seriously thinking over his brother's words.

"Leo? What would you do in my situation? Honestly now?"

Leonardo sighed. "I would go," he admitted, giving Don a little, sheepish grin.

Donatello laughed. "Then I guess I'm going! I think I've got more control over the blackouts now anyway." His body froze when a soft knock was heard at his door.

"Come in!" Leonardo called. Slowly but surely the door creaked open, revealing a very curious orange-wearing turtle. Michelangelo stepped inside completely when he realised that everyone one was awake anyway.

"Splinter was wondering where you were, Leo," Mike said.

"Just spending time with Don, that's all."

"Did you get a good sleep?" Michelangelo asked Donatello.

"Yeah, I guess," Don muttered, remembering the conversation he held with Stockman.

"Cool! Everyone's up now, and Splinter wants to start organising our little shindig tonight. So when you're ready, come out to the living room," Mike passed on his message. With a hop in his step, Mike bounded out of the room.

"Shindig? He considers sneaking into the Shredder's high-tech, lethal facility and robbing from his labs a shindig? Out of curiosity… what does he call a picnic?" Donatello mused, pushing down his covers and climbing out of his bed. Leo grinned and shrugged before making his way out to the rest of his family with Don following close behind.

"Glad to see you're finally awake," Splinter greeted Donatello.

"Sorry, Sensei. I let him sleep in a little bit," Leo aplogised, not telling his father the entire truth. The wise rat gave his two sons a nod of understanding before turning to address all of the turtles.

"Now about tonight, does anyone have any ideas on how to get this antidote?" Splinter queried.

"We could always try using the air vents again. It worked last time," Leo suggested.

"Except for the part where Donny got captured," Mike interrupted.

"That plan has been done to death, Leo! Shredder will see it coming a mile away!" Raphael heavily criticised.

"I'm afraid Raphael is right. It's not wise to use the same form of entry twice, as we lose that all-important element of surprise," Splinter surmised. Leonardo grunted, slightly peeved that his father had agreed with Raph for once.

"Well I guess that means we should leave the Battle Shell out of this. We've done that tactic before," Raphael mentioned.

"I just want to grab the antidote, either pre-made or in its separate ingredients, and then get the shell out of there. I don't feel like messing with the Shredder, not this time," Leonardo announced his intentions.

"You have no arguments there," Raph remarked while the others agreed.

"Every building by law has to have a fire escape, right?" Mike asked.

"Yeah…" Leo urged him to continue.

"So why don't we just use the stairs?" Mike wondered. Raphael leaned sideways and slapped the back of Mikey's head. "What?" Mike whined. "It worked on Final Fantasy VII!"

"I don't want to enter from the bottom of the building, because that'll mean we'll have to ascend all of the floors… and you all know what kind of weird and wonderful things Shredder likes to keep," Don said, referring to their previous escapades.

"Still, the elevator shaft could be an option, albeit a dangerous one," Leo suggested.

"What about entering from the rooftop? If Don rigs us all up with hang gliders, we should be able to start from there," Raph wondered.

"But where will we start the glide from? Being up that high, the winds will get really dangerous as well," Don worried.

"Why can't we just walk through the front door? At least no one will be expecting that," Mike said. Everyone gave him a blank look. Once again, Raph slapped the back of his head.

"What is wrong with you?" Raphael asked.

"It worked in Final Fantasy VII," Mike muttered under his breath while he rubbed his newly formed bruise.

"You know… we could enter on the side of Shredder's skyscraper," Don started.

"What do you mean? How?" Leo questioned.

"Trust me. I just need a few things, like harnesses, harpoons, and explosives."

"Ooh! Explosives," Raph was already interested.

"So do you know what you're doing?" April asked, though her voice sounded like Leonardo. Don lifted his unshaved face and stared at the female scientist in the eyes, almost blinded by the whiteness of her lab coat. He was back in his padded cell.

"I have a fair idea. At least I'm committed," Don said.

The turtles fell silent, rather perplexed by Don's choice of words. Leonardo was especially worried, considering for a moment it seemed that Don had mentally slipped somewhere else. Splinter could sense the peculiarity as well. "Um… that's good to know," Leo uttered.

"Donatello? Are you well enough to go?" Splinter questioned.

"I'm fine. Trust me on this."


The night was a cold one, but Donatello felt they were lucky that it wasn't windy as well. Shredder's skyscraper was located in the busy throng of New York City. The building might have been one of the tallest around, but it was by no means alone. As part of Don's plan, the turtles sneaked into the closest skyscraper they could find situated next to Shredder's. Since it was just a normal office building, that task was simple, and for once the turtles found it rather relaxing not having to worry about monsters on certain floors or battling henchmen after henchmen, after henchmen. In the end, Splinter and Leatherhead had decided not to come, mainly so they could play the role of being the rescuers should none of the turtles return after a set number of hours.

The office building was only three-quarters of the height of Shredder's but it served its purpose. They knew that the lab they wanted, Chaplin's, was on the thirty-third floor. So, with the adjacent building, the turtles ascended to the thirty-seventh, following Don's precise instructions. The offices were vacant and the main lights were turned off; obviously all the workers had returned home for the night. Not wasting any time, Donatello used a laser and cut into one of the many thick windows. Shredder's illuminated skyscraper stood directly opposite from their position.

With a mutant turtle-sized hole in the window, Don carefully aimed at Shredder's skyscraper, counted four floors down, and shot off an arrow tipped with a suction cup from a harpoon gun. Don cheered silently when the arrow stuck to the side of the foreboding building. Yet there was more to it than that. The end of the arrow was attached to a wire, which now ran from the side of Shredder's skyscraper upwards four floors, through the cut glass of the office building, before originating from the harpoon gun in Don's grip.

"So what's the idea behind this?" Leo asked in a whisper, just wanting to make sure that all the details were clear in his mind.

"With a wire, I've just linked this building with Shredder's," Don commented.

"Yeah, I can see that. But what next?" Leo wondered. The other three turtles nervously watched as Don hooked up a rocket to the wire.

"You know those explosives I mentioned?"

"Yeah…" Leo answered.

"Well, this is it," Don said, pointing the rocket.

"Don? What are you doing?" Leo was getting worried.

"This rocket is filled with gunpowder and other flammable materials, hence it is an explosive. The rocket is attached to a clip, and the clip is in turn attached to the wire. Therefore, since we shot the wire at a downward angle, the rocket will slide downwards, powered faster from the burning fuse, which I'm about to light. Now when this rocket hits the side of Shredder's building-"

"-It'll blast out the window of Chaplin's lab," Leo finished Don's belittling explanation.

"Correct. Then I'll shoot another wire through the newly created hole, which we'll then use the harnesses we brought with us in order to slide on in there, flying fox style," Don summarised.

"…Cool," Raph said simply.

"I wanna see a big boom," Mike giggled with excitement. Raph slapped him on the back of the head. "Hey! What was that one for?" Mike whined, rubbing his sore spot, beginning to get paranoid about whether he'd get a lump or not.

Raphael shrugged. "It's just a natural reflex now," he smirked.

"Alright, everyone stand back a bit. I'm lighting the fuse now," Don warned his brothers. Suddenly scared, Leo, Mike and Raph jumped back a couple of feet. With a bright spark, the rocket launched forwards, following the course of the wire. It cascaded downwards, getting faster and faster with the pull of gravity. In the total of one second, contact had been made between the rocket and the window to Chaplin's lab.

All the turtles gasped as the shock of the explosion could be felt reverberating through their shells. The bang was so powerful that even some windows a few floors up on Shredder's skyscraper had shattered. For a second, it looked like the entire building had shook; the sound had rung out into the headlight-filled streets, and echoed around the manmade wind tunnels of the city. A small fire had started on the floor they had been aiming at, but Don didn't seem to be too worried about that minor detail. He had on purposely added extra gunpowder to the explosive. He wanted to feel the shock; to hear the sound; to see the flames. He craved that excitement. But he mostly wanted to feel alive – to see if the shock was powerful enough to snap him out of his dream, that is, if everything was false to begin with. Yet the explosion was spectacular and the event was incredibly real and detailed. But after all that, Don still had some doubts residing in his mind.

"Don?" Leo exclaimed. "We want to sneak into the lab! Not blow it up!" Leonardo started to freak out.

"Sorry Leo," Don said, sounding eerily apathetic. "I just wanted a big boom," he added, using Michelangelo's simple choice of words.

To be continued…