Chapter Seven: Traps and Freedom

Tuesday, early afternoon

A green ninja slipped into a shadowy corner to breathe for a moment. I wish I was still arguing with Saja instead of here. I was right that she can't use her magic or science or whatever to teleport away to get Raph yet—the exertion would probably kill her, as much as I want to pursue any chance of getting a brother back.

One of the Foot came sniffing his way; Don forced himself to hold still another moment. But she was sure right about the Gamer's "clue." This was a trap. Or a false lead. There's probably a camera strapped to each Foot, and the Gamer is laughing like crazy watching his "game."

One last breath, and Don narrowed his eyes and brought his bo down on the head of the Foot, who crumpled without a sound. Either they cut out all their tongues, or all Foot are very well trained to never make a sound, even when they're injured.

The turtle darted to cover behind a pallet of lumber, scanning the wide-open, under-construction floor of the skyscraper as he did so. Windows hadn't been cut out of the plywood yet, so although an early afternoon sun beamed down outside, only a few dim, temporary lights shone inside. Various pallets and construction gear littered the whole floor.

I sure hope these Foot answer to the Gamer, and not Shredder. I'd hate to have him find out a turtle was poking around in one of his territories.

A black-clad head appeared around a scissor lift or whatever that vehicle was, and Don threw something at it.

Then a Foot ambushed him, and Don didn't have time to think about anything else. More ran to join the fray, and very nearly overwhelmed the turtle.

Can't— let— the— Gamer— hurt— my— brothers!

Adrenaline and desperation for fuel, Don surged out of the bullseye, clobbering two Foot on the way.

He flew toward the door to the stairwell, tore it open, and swung his bo fast and hard at the two Foot guarding it. Well, this is not the usual ninjitsu way, but I do seem to be taking them by surprise.

Looking down, Don snapped on the light switch as the second Foot fell. That will blind the others a bit after coming out of that dim room.

From there, Don sprinted up the stairs, dodging the katana of and jumping over a Foot who was just coming down.

Footsteps sounded behind him.

Heart pounding in his throat, Don willed himself to go even faster, and bounded up the next set of stairs. He encountered another pair of Foot—swing, dodge, kick, and throw them over self, down the stairs to slow down the approaching horde—and kept running. Three more floors to go. Four Foot this time; he barely paused to fight them. Two more floors. This pair of Foot hadn't been paying attention, and he managed to breeze past them. One more floor.

Miraculously, no one was guarding the door to the roof, and Donatello burst through it like floodwaters breaking through a dam. As he ran, the turtle scanned the bright rooftop, eyes rapidly adjusting to full sun, ignored a handful of distant Foot, and made good his escape.

The Foot only followed him across four or five roofs before melting away; it was daylight, and the Gamer had probably given orders.

Besides, Donatello reflected as he checked one last time before ducking into a manhole, he probably doesn't actually want me captured; he wants me to play his stupid game.

Standing at the bottom of the ladder, Don paused for a moment as exhaustion replaced adrenaline, dragging down his limbs.

Then he straightened, and continued his hurry toward the Lair. Well, I'll play it. There is no way he can keep me from my brothers.

Tuesday, late afternoon

Ugh.

Raphael forced open his gummy eyes and found sun pouring into them, so he shut them again. A wire tickled his neck. With a grumble, he shifted position; the bed groaned beneath him.

I don't sleep on a bed; I sleep on a hammock. The turtle's eyes popped open, and he jolted up to a sitting position.

"Ugh." He brought his hands, which were no longer bound, up to cradle his head. Raph remained in this posture to examine his surroundings. It feels like I was out way too late with Casey, but last thing I remember was sleeping hard after the alarm sounded in that animal HQ. He seemed to be in some sort of makeshift hospital or medical wing; a double row of cots held a few injured bipedal animals: a dog, a badger, a lizard, some sort of small wildcat, and even a tiny foot-and-a-half tall white mouse, who was awake and regarding him with curiosity. Medical supplies on shelves, a big jug of water, and a window took up the right end of the room, and an open doorway on the left revealed a large, busy room similar to the big, open room at the—what did they call themselves? The Othla?—base.

Between each cot sat a small, worn nightstand or a rickety chair: something that held personalized medical paraphernalia, maybe a glass of water, and each animal's own weapons—katanas, bows, nunchakus, and so on.

Raph twisted to his left to look at the head of his cot and found a glass of water, his one remaining sai, and a clear bottle of green pills. On the floor below lay the cable that had bound his hands. Good riddance, he thought, huffing at it. I'm still wearing that translator doohickey, though.

Raph pondered the nightstand for a moment before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his sai, sheathing it in his belt, and then taking the water. He sipped it, didn't taste anything strange, and chugged the whole glass. I don't know quite where I am, but they seem ta think I'm hurt, and people don't usually poison hurt people.

That done, his head felt a bit clearer, so he went to stand, but some noise made him stop. He turned his head to see the little white mouse shaking its—her?—head.

"What?" Raph grumbled. "Ya don't think I can stand up after that stupid sleeping drug? Nothing can hold me down."

At that moment, a bipedal raccoon sporting a threadbare lab coat, a stethoscope, and medical tools jammed into every pocket hurried in from the open doorway, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the turtle.

"Oh," he said. "You're already awake."

He spoke in that same not-Japanese, but the device still clipped to Raph projected a translation directly to his face.

"Yeah," Raph growled, not without a hint of pride. "Like I was just tellin' th' mouse, no drug can hold me down."

The medic was still staring at him with admiration. "How long were you out? What's the last thing you remember?"

How much do I tell him? Raph looked into the newcomer's eyes and some instinct told him that this being meant him no harm. He shrugged. "However long it took ta get here, I guess. There was an alarm, and th' cage started spewin' that stupid sleepy gas again. Where am I, anyway? Are ya the other guys?"

"You must not have had very much of that wretched alemnea," the raccoon muttered before saying, "We are the Da'an, if that's what you're asking. But I assume you are as well? The raid team said you were unconscious in a cage. Are you new to the revolution—or from one of the rural areas?"

Raph crossed his arms. "I'm not from here at all. That mousey guy told me 'bout yer little war, and th' ones who think everybody should name themselves are right. But me person'ly, I jus' need ta get home."

"What do you mean, you're not from here? And what… er… 'mousey guy?'"

The ninja sighed. All these questions again. "Look, I was fightin' bad guys back in my city, an' I got hit by a dart, and suddenly I was in the forest that was all sleepy an' annoyin', then those other guys found me an' marched me back ta their place. They put me in a cage and that mousey guy put this doohickey on me and wouldn't be quiet about this war they're in, and I said, 'Yer wrong,' and he lectured me some more, and then the alarm sounded and they put that sleepy drug in my face again." By this time, Raph was standing and emphasizing points by hitting his fist into his other hand. "That mouse was so annoying! No offense," he added to the silent white mouse. "He wasn't a real mouse anyway. He was a… flyin' squirrel or somethin'."

A mix of reactions clashed on the raccoon's face. "What city?" He finally managed.

Raph crossed his arms. "Not one of yer cities. Look, in my world, the only talking, two-legged animals are me-" he jabbed a thumb at his plastron- "and my family. There's no 'Dew-stew' or whatever."

"Deutsu," the medic corrected, then stood scratching his chin. Finally, he heaved a deep sigh. "Well, if you speak truth, that explains why the Othila put the forgnathu on you. What-"

"'Course I'm tellin' the truth!"

The raccoon nodded. "I think I believe you, friend," he said slowly. "Unfortunately, my people the Deutsu are at war with each other, and we cannot afford to take any chances…" He trailed off, reaching out his paw toward the injured warriors, sadness etched in every line of his face.

For the first time since his waking in the forest, Raph thought about the world he had found himself in. They were thinking, mutant animals like his family, and they couldn't even learn from the humans' mistakes. Too bad I can't stay and help the right side win their war… but I gotta get back to my bros and help Donnie.

Then another thought sunk in. "What do ya mean, 'can't take any chances?'" Raph dropped his arms to hover his right hand nearer his sai.

The raccoon shook his head. "Let's take a step back. Strange circumstances have led us quickly to confusion. The name by which I have called myself is Bren. What is your name, friend?"

The turtle sensed a challenge hidden under the calm voice and face. "Raphael."

Bren waited before saying, "Your name is bold, Raphael. Who named you your name?"

"My father named me, but he doesn't own me. That's not a thing in my world—my culture, like Don would call it. In fact, my father's not a human—you would call him a Dwetsoo too."

That earned a raised eyebrow. "Deutsu are able to… reproduce in your world? Here we cannot; the humans apply their strange science to each individual animal."

Raph scratched at his bicep. "Uh, well, no, he's not a turtle. We're not technically related, prob'ly—but that doesn't mean we're not family," he ended fiercely.

Bren held up his hands in a soothing gesture. "All right, all right, be calm," he chuckled. "Those of us Deutsu who have formed bonds are possessive of our families as well."

Raph eased. I guess family is kinda universal.

After observing Raph's body language, the medic's eyes slid to his patients, and he stepped over to the nearest Deutsu, the lizard, to check on him. "So, if you are not from here, how did you come to be here?"

Turning to watch the medic, Raph leaned against the wall. "Well, like I said, my friend an' me were fightin' some goons, and then my bro called and said, 'Get outta there; they've got the others,' an' then a dart hit Ca- my friend, an' he disappeared, an' then a dart hit me, an' next thing I knew, I was wakin' up in that annoyin' sleepy forest. I walked a bit, but I had ta lie down before I fell asleep standing up—like a certain brother of mine sometimes," he added under his breath. "Those critters prodded me and marched me to their base—an' I told ya the rest already."

Bren scribbled on a makeshift clipboard and returned it to its place at the foot of the lizard's bed. "You were fighting… goons… were they human?"

Raph rolled his eyes. "A' course they were. I told ya already, th' only mutants are me n' my family."

"Yes, I know," Bren said, though his tone did not sound certain. He paused to put the stethoscope, designed for human anatomy, carefully into his ears and listen to the heartbeat of the next patient, a dog.

Raph wanted to tap his foot, but Don always levelled a death glare at him if he made any noise during this process, so he crossed his arms and tapped a finger on his bicep instead.

This done, Bren began unwrapping a stained bandage from the dog's arm. "My point is, humans have some unbelievable technology. And in my experience, most humans are unpredictable, cannot be trusted, and might even find amusement in the distress of others." The raccoon glanced at Raphael, and his eyes flashed with hints of a darker story behind those words.

"Not all humans," Raphael said. "A lot are just fine. Some are even good—like Ca—my friend. And one other friend too. But yeah, I get what yer' sayin.' All our enemies are human. Well, more or less." Some less, like the Triceratons and the Utrom.

Bren finished with his patient before speaking again. "How's your head? I found a spare bottle of alemnea-recovery pills; you can take one. Although you only swayed a little when you stood… that alone goes a long way in proving your words to me."

No way did I sway! "I'm fine," Raph grunted, refusing to think about the fact that his head still didn't feel quite normal.

The medic glanced up and gave him the same raised eyebrow that Don gave him after he'd taken a bunch of hits during a heavy fight. But his voice was simply businesslike when he turned back and spoke. "If you sit down and wait for me to finish my rounds, I will take you to meet our leader."