His mind, as it often did when a problem arose or when he was panicked, was working on a fast track, a million theories racing through his head at the same time, trying to come up with a logical explenation.
Unfortunately for him, the only logical explanations seemed to only suffice to give the already panicked turtle a near heart attack.
Calm down! He ordered himself to no avail as his heart hammered inside his chest. It means nothing!
So what? So he and the other three mutants came from the same canister of mutagen. Why did that bother him so much?
"You fool! You're going to spill the entire canister!"
Stockman's voice sufficed to shake the turtle from his stupor, though not because of the alarm or anger in his tone, but because of the actual content of the statement.
Donatello glanced at the canister in his hands, it's contents nearly spilling out of the side because of the lax way he was holding it. He quickly righted the canister and set it on the table, far from his shaking hands.
He didn't know if his hands were shaking because of the aftershocks or from his most recent shock.
He balled his green hands into tight fists and tried to cease his shaking before Stockman could notice, pretending to occupy himself with taking notes like nothing had happened.
Because, really, nothing had happened. It meant nothing.
His normally immaculate penmanship was not evident as he frantically scribbled down notes about his observations, purposefully leaving out the connection of himself and the other turtles. He didn't know why exactly, but he didn't want Saki to know this. Not until he could further prove it. For now it was simply a theory. Just a theory.
Just a theory.
He kept telling himself this as he assisted Stockman, not daring to try anymore experiments for fear of what else he would find.
Normally, the intelligent turtle went out of his way to gain new information, to test theories and prove hypotheses to be fact, but not this time. He was far too afraid of the consequences to do so, not necessarily from Saki but from the information itself that he would find out in the process.
A sudden loud ruckus from the entrance served to shake the turtle from his thoughts as two trucks stopped in the garage entrance and several Purple Dragons emerged from the doors, two of which were carrying a canister of mutagen each.
Stockman, who didn't seem at all phased by the interruption, directed the two Purple Dragons to set the canisters on the lab table.
Donatello, who acting on pure instinct, had melted into the shadows upon the unexpected arrival, now relaxed enough to step out and show himself to the newcomers.
If Stockman was expecting them, then surely the situation was safe enough to reveal himself.
Although they appeared to have been expecting Stockman and the other Foot ninja, apparently his presence was not only startling to the Purple Dragons, but was met with aggression.
"It's one of them green freaks!" One yelled, raising his club.
Immediately, the other Purple Dragons turned toward him with their weapons.
Donatello already had his weapon in hand, his stance steady and defensive, waiting for them to attack.
"Enough!"
Donatello glanced at the left truck to see Master Baron close the passenger door behind him.
A mixture of dread and relief filled him at the sight of the familiar man and he sheathed his weapon on his shell.
"Donatello is not a threat. Go about your work." Baron ordered.
The man looked at him then and gave him a small nod.
"Donatello."
In response, Donatello quickly fell into a respective bow.
"Master. Baron."
Baron was the Foot's main eyes and ears in the streets with the local gangs, and recently in the Purple Dragons as well, working beside Hun to establish a relationship between the ninja clan and the street gang. He even headed his own clan, a ruthless extension of the Foot Clan that even the arrogent Purple Dragons strived to avoid.
Donatello had seen Baron when he came to the Foot headquarters to deliver his monthly reports, though they rarely spoke unless it was to ask about a device that he wanted crafted.
From what Donatello could find out about the man that wasn't encrypted was that he had gained accession from a successful mission he had headed eleven years ago and gained Saki's favor and has continuously rose in rank since.
"Master Shredder told me that you were helping with this project." Baron said, aimlessly glancing over the canisters of mutagen assembled.
"Yes, sir." Donatello responded.
"He didn't tell me what it was for, though, only instructed me to use my contacts to gather up as much of this mutagen as I could." Baron continued, saying the word 'mutagen' like it confused him.
"Why were you asked to gather it?" Donatello couldn't help but ask.
The man looked at him like he was a student that just asked a foolish question.
"The Foot's supplies have been getting hit lately by the vigilantes because the Foot is so high on their radar lately." Baron answered easily, his hands behind his back in a calm fashion.
Vigilantes.
"The Purple Dragons, on the other hand, fly under their radar easily. So I was asked to help in gathering your..." Baron glanced at the containers again. "Mutagen."
"Why not use your own clan, sir?" Donatello asked, hoping that it didn't sound too much like he was questioning his reasoning.
But Baron only smirked, a gleam in his eyes that Donatello didn't like. "You never show your hand, not until you are prepared to put it to use."
Unsure of what to say to that, Donatello simply responded, "Hai, Master Baron."
Baron looked over the canisters, picking one up and examining it closely.
"I would use caution around that, sir." Donatello advised, edging closer just in case he needed to catch the precious liquid. "That's extremely dangerous."
Baron looked at him, eyes narrowed, before setting the mutagen on the lab table.
"And what exactly does this thing do, Donatello?" Baron asked with a hint of aggravation. "Master Shredder has not informed me of it's use."
Donatello shifted.
"If Master Saki has not deemed it fit that you be told, then I'm sorry to say that I cannot discuss it with you either, sir." Donatello said.
He didn't like the idea of angering Baron, but he was much more afraid of the consequences of angering Saki.
As if reading the young turtle's mind, Baron said, "Afraid of your sensei, turtle?"
Donatello opened his mouth to deny it when he heard it: the slightest squeek of an overhead board.
Donatello looked up, not knowing what he was looking for, but after scrutinizing the shadows like they were his enemy, saw nothing.
"Edgy?" Baron asked, his tone annoyed.
"Er- no, I thought I heard something. It's nothing, I guess." Donatello mumbled.
He felt like his eyes were playing tricks on him. He had learned long ago to always trust his instincts- and they were telling him that there was danger. The instinct to defend himself was so strong that he had to lock himself in place to keep from jumping up to the overhead boards and inspecting every inch of it.
"I think that it would be in your best interest to tell me what this mutagen is, Donatello." Baron said, his tone much more threatening than it had been a moment ago.
"I cannot-"
"That's all." Stockman's conceited voice droned. "If you could get your hoodrats out so we could get back to work before Master Shredder or Mistress Karai come to check on our progress, I think you can save yourself- and more importantly, me- a lot of trouble."
Never before since meeting the man had Donatello ever been more grateful for Stockman's arrogant and ill-mannered nature.
Fighting back a sigh of relief for the reprieve of questions, Donatello once more heard that barely auditable creak.
"Go see what that is." Donatello said to two nearby Foot ninja, who immediately did as they were told.
Donatello turned back to Baron and bowed. "I must get back to my work, but it has been a pleasurable honor to speak with you again, Master Baron."
And I hope to not have that pleasure again for a very long time, Donatello thought as he held his position.
Finally after what felt like a lifetime, Baron nodded his affirmation and Donatello was able to straighten again.
"Donatello, get over-" Stockman started, but was quickly interrupted by a sudden, distinctive sound of metal meeting metal.
If there had been any doubt that something was wrong before, there certainly wasn't now as Foot ninja raced up to the rafters.
Donatello didn't hesitate to pull his staff out and take a defensive position.
Beside him, Baron reached behind his coat to pull out the kusarigama that he kept behind his back and wrapped the thick heavy chain around his metal gloves, allowing the long blade to twirl in the air beside him, the speared end clenched in his other glove.
Donatello himself had made that weapon two years ago out of tungsten, as he had the Shredder's suit and his own staff. Unbreakable to any weapon used against it, it gave the wielder a large advantage of knowing their weapon would never disappoint.
"You three, go up there." Baron ordered the three closest Purple Dragons, who begrudgingly did as they were told and made their way up to the rafters as well.
"Do you have guards up there?" Baron demanded.
"Other than the ones you just saw me send? No." Donatello replied, which under any other circumstance he would have apologized for his use of sarcasm, but in his defense, it had been a pretty dumb question.
As if to back him up, the bodies of the three Purple Dragons and the two Foot soldiers fell simultaneously from the rafters, making an audible thump! as they made contact with the concrete floor.
Donatello was about to go up and inspect the rafters himself when three forms jumped down from it, their weapons already drawn.
"Why didn't you guys invite us for the get-together?" The orange turtle asked with an air of hurt in his tone.
Donatello distracted himself by glaring at Baron.
"Not on their radar, was it?" Donatello mocked.
Baron glared back but said nothing as he twirled his weapon in his hand.
The blue masked turtle, presumably their leader, stepped forward with a pair of katanas raised.
"Put your weapons down." The turtle in blue yelled to the silent room. "And no one will get hurt."
In answer, a room of Foot ninjas and Baron raised their weapons higher and attacked.
The sounds of metal clashing against bodies and the smell of blood hit Donatello only a moment later.
Tucking his staff into the holster on his back, Donatello jumped back to the lab table and began to close the few open canisters.
"Get these on the truck." Donatello hissed to Stockman, who had cowered against the side of the table the moment the bodies had dropped. "Now!"
There was no time for caution as Donatello and Stockman ran to the nearest truck and unloaded the canisters in their arms, quickly turning around for more.
As he grabbed three more canisters from the table, Donatello glanced back at the turtles and saw that only a few Foot and Baron were still standing.
What kind of fighters were these?
Mutant turtle ones, his ever-helpful brain supplied.
Rolling his eyes at himself, Donatello hauled the three canisters to the truck and carefully set them in.
"How many more?" Donatello demanded of Stockman, who had just set one canister down.
"Three, maybe more." He replied, yelping as a shuriken embedded itself in the door of the van.
"I'll get it, you get ready to drive." Donatello snapped and turned once again for the table.
Donatello gripped the remaining canisters in one hand and hauled back to the truck, intent on avoiding the fight all together, when two pairs of nunchucks snapped out of seemingly nowhere and wrapped themselves around his wrist and yanked it harshly.
Donatello stumbled, kicking his leg against the table to keep upright and threw the canisters on the table as carelessly as he dared and grabbed his staff with his free hand.
"Whoa, whoa buddy!" The turtle exclaimed, holding one hand palm out in a placating gesture that Donatello knew better than to trust. "Just calm down, dude!"
Glaring back at the orange masked turtle, Donatello bent his knees quickly and sweeped the turtles legs with his staff.
The turtle lost his grip on the nunchucks as he fell on his carpace, grabbing his bald head with his hand.
Donatello wasted no time in frantically undoing the chains around his wrist, only to have to jump away to avoid a katana in his face a moment later.
Donatello ignored the nunchucks swinging from his wrist and clenched his staff, waiting for the next strike that didn't come.
The turtle in blue stood in front of him, katanas at his sides, a hesitant expression on his face.
"At the docks, you let me go." He said, every word seeping confusion. "Why would you do that?"
Donatello hesitated as well, weapon still at the ready in cases this was some kind of trick, but his gut told him otherwise.
"It was wrong." Donatello said slowly, knowing that it wasn't the truth but thinking that it was true enough.
"Wrong?" The turtle repeated skeptically. "You disobeyed an order because you thought it was wrong?" He shook his head. "Either you're stupid or you're lying, and you don't seem like the stupid type. Why did you let us go?"
Donatello's shoulders sagged as he shook his head. "I don't know."
The turtle seemed to study him for a moment before relaxing his stance.
Donatello did the same.
"You should take your clan and leave." Donatello advised quickly. "Reinforcements will come and you will be overrun when they do."
"I think we did fine being outnumbered." The turtle boasted.
Donatello glanced behind him to see Baron going head-to-head with the orange and red turtle, Foot soldiers sprawled around them, motionless.
Donatello nodded his head toward them.
"And what about when you're even in skill? If Saki comes, will you still be so confident?" Donatello demanded. "Leave while you can. Please."
"I think you know I'm not going to do that." The turtle replied easily.
"Don't be stupid, if-" Donatello started.
"Raph!" The blue banded turtle yelled out suddenly, forgetting entirely about the turtle in front of him as he ran.
Raph. Donatello committed the name to memory.
Donatello turned in time to see the red banded turtle fly back against the wall, a long, deep cut across his plastron made by the now dripping curved blade swinging from Baron's wrist.
The orange banded turtle ran to his comrade, forgetting completely about the deadly blade.
Baron used the turtle's distraction to his advantage and swung the blade once more.
Donatello's heart raced a mile a minute as he watched the deadly scene unfold, his mind froze in horror.
No!
Donatello didn't even realize that he had moved until his staff was slamming against Baron's chest at the same time that he felt a white-hot pain in his shoulder.
He didn't know how exactly he ended up on the ground, clutching his bleeding shoulder until he saw Baron several feet away seeming dead to the world.
Oh god, Donatello thought as it struck him. Did I kill him?
He remembered striking Baron in the chest, but did he hit him so hard that it stopped his heart? He knew how to do so, he was trained in deadly force, but he hadn't thought...
You just attacked Baron! His mind screamed at him unhelpfully. Donatello closed his eyes and tried to find some calm. Don't freak out, he told himself. Make sure before you freak out.
With that in mind, Donatello sat up, not realizing at first that he had been laying down, only to get pushed onto his carpace again.
"Settle down, I don't think you need to be moving that shoulder too much." Someone advised beside him.
Donatello turned to see the blue banded turtle leaning over him, a blood tainted sword beside him.
The turtle followed his eyes and glanced at the sword.
"I was aiming for him, I didn't see you." The turtle explained, looking somewhat embarrassed, then turned serious again. "What's your name?"
Donatello opened his mouth to answer, then thought better of it. Why should he answer any questions? For all he knew, the turtle would use his answers against him.
"Your name is Donatello, right?" He asked. "I'm Leonardo, that's Raphael, and that's Michelangelo."
As he spoke, he pointed toward the red banded turtle, who was somehow standing upright, several makeshift bandages from their wrist wrappings tied around his plastron. Then to the orange banded turtle, who gave Donatello a wide grin.
I am so screwed, he thought to himself. He was outnumbered, he was barely able to move his shoulder much less fight with it, and Baron was out, maybe dead. This was not looking too good for him.
Maybe he was stubborn, or stupid one, but he once again attempted to stand, determined to get into a more defensible position than the one he was currently in.
"Stay down." Leonardo said, his voice firmer than before.
Donatello didn't respond, just focused on sitting up.
"Baron." Donatello hissed, nodding at the figure. "Is he- did I-"
"You did a number on him, the bastard's going to be out of it for a while." Raphael said, his hands balled into fists.
"But is he dead?" Donatello demanded. He had to know how bad the situation was before he could make a feasible plan.
"I don't think so. He'll have some mean bruising, but he'll live." Leonardo finally answered him.
"Unfortunately." Raphael muttered not so quietly.
So the situation could still be salvaged. All he had to do was get Baron, get the last canisters of mutagen, and get the shell out of this building.
"Mikey, you go stop Stockman from taking off, I'll get the canisters, Raph you stay here and make sure that nobody moves." Leonardo said, turning his head toward them.
Donatello looked to his left. His staff was but a few precious feet from him, but if he even moved a muscle they would see it.
"Leo, we can-" Michelangelo started, looking at Donatello with something akin to desperation.
"No, Mikey." Leonardo cut in harshly, giving him a pointed look.
"Leo-"
"Stop it! Both of you!" Leonardo commanded, standing and facing the two.
He wasn't going to get a better time than now.
Donatello grinted his teeth and rolled to his side, grabbing his staff for dear life and jumping to his feet.
Knowing that he would never stand a chance in battle in his condition, Donatello quickly pushed one of the buttons on the staff and watched for a moment as the mini tazer popped out of one end of the staff and slammed it into Michelangelo's plastron, who happened to be the closest one to him.
The turtle in orange screamed as the electricity raced through him, then fell on his knees and slumping forward.
Not enough to kill, but enough to make sure that they weren't going to follow.
Raphael grabbed his sai and twirled it threateningly before letting out a fierce yell of rage and raging toward him.
A simple kick to his already injured plastron was enough to throw the turtle off balance, and Donatello quickly stuck the electrified end to his carpace.
Donatello had just turned around when he saw the glint of metal from above and raised his staff above his head.
Two twin katanas slammed down on his staff with enough force that it made Donatello's ears ring.
His shoulder was screaming with the exertion of not being sliced in half.
You wouldn't actually be sliced in half, his brain argued. You would just be severely injured or perhaps mauled.
Leonardo pressed all his weight against his staff, obviously trying to overpower him. The only thing keeping him standing was the lab table he was pressed against. In hindsight, Donatello probably should have seen what he was going to do.
Leonardo swept a leg behind his own, effectively forcing him off his feet as his carpace slammed against the lab table.
The table cracked under his weight and crumbled, throwing everything on it to the ground.
Donatello couldn't move from his position on the floor, too busy as he was at trying to stop the blood that was rapidly flowing from the wound. Glass shards from something broken when the table fell were inbeded in his shoulder and arm, making the wound hurt impossibly more. He was also pretty certain that he had a concussion because his vision was fuzzy and he felt nauseous.
He heard the sounds of rats squealing- no, someone was screaming. Roaring?
Confused, Donatello opened his eyes to see further proof of a concussion.
Three large, mutated ugly rats were sevreral feet away, roaring their distaste.
Oh god. The mutagen.
Surely enough, Donatello could spot the differences in each of the three rats.
"Donatello, we must leave!" Baron hissed at him from the back of the truck. "Now, Donatello!"
Glancing over to his right, he saw Michelangelo and Raphael begin to stir while Leonardo bravely held up his katanas, obviously intent on defending his fallen clan.
Part of Donatello knew that he should stay and help the turtles, since this mess was entirely of his own making. But he knew that wasn't acceptable. He would already be in hell for attacking Baron, he didn't need to make any more mistakes.
So he forced himself to stand, to use his hands to push himself up into a standing position and stumble/run as fast as his wobbly feet were able to take him.
As Donatello jumped into the back of the van with the remaining containers of mutagen, the last thing he saw before Baron slammed the doors and yelled, "Go, Stockman! Now!" was Leonardo's cold unforgiving glare as he felt an unexplainable weight drop in his stomach and a harsh pain in his chest.