Chapter Nine: Do I Look Like A Super Turtle?
AN: EARLY UPDATE! WHOO HOOO!
Special THANK YOU to AlexLuke! You're AWESOME!
AN2: Merry Christmas everyone! I try to get updates of my top stories done for the holiday season, as that's when most people have time to read. Yes, it's a time of eating and presents, and being around friends and family, but we all need a way to unwind and reading, especially about our fandoms, is a great way to reset our holiday spirits to get us through the next few days.
So sit back, Relax, Have a cup of Hot Chocolate… and enjoy an early surprise… PS… please excuse any mistakes. I was in a hurry to give everyone this gift chapter.
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Donnie stared blankly at the pitted ceiling above.
How long had he been captive?
A week?
A month?
Years?
Time bled from one pain filled moment to the next. The only relief he had was the night, where he'd shut down, mentally and physically, sleeping through the night until roused by a guard for another long day of torment.
Donnie had hoped to regain his strength, but the constant injuries and insubstantial recovery time was greatly hindering his plans. There were times he could barely feed himself, let alone overpower military trained humans.
Two days before, the guards shackled Donnie and beat him with the butts of their weapons, fists, boots, and one even wore brass knuckles. Donnie tried to protect his face and sides, but it was a futile effort. Four men in excellent health and lacking physical restrictions easily overcome the weak turtle.
They punched Donnie over and over until he gladly collapsed into oblivion.
When he woke up some unknown time later, he crawled into bed and cried himself to sleep, uncaring if anyone was watching through the glass.
Each time the door opened, Donnie wondered what fresh hell awaited him. A small part of him wondered why they didn't kill him already, and get the suffering over with. At least he'd be free of this prison.
Then again, who knows the kind of information that could be gathered from his dissection.
Information to be used against his brothers.
He had to be strong. For them. He wouldn't allow them to be captured and subjected to these horrors. Even if it took Donnie's last breath, he'd make sure the scientists would be unable to use their knowledge to torture his family.
If only he could recover faster!
With a giggle, he mentally chastised himself, trying to throw off the unwelcome elation bubbling beneath the surface and making his scales tingle. He had to stay focused! It was the only way he would be able to get out of here.
But it was just so difficult.
He was tired. And giddy.
Why?
Right!
The doctors drained a pint of blood this morning, bringing the total up to two pints in the span of a week. No doubt running more tests and doing who knows what with their findings. Donnie knew he could heal faster if he wasn't bled out so generously.
But, that was all part of his life as an experiment.
The door opened, signaling company.
Donnie cowered on the bed, fighting back the urge to cry when a man approached clothed in a long white lab coat. Still sore and achy from the beating two days prior, Donnie's skin was mottled black and blue with bruises, giving him a moldy aspect. One eye was black, the swelling slowly going down.
"Please, don't hurt me," Donnie whispered, euphoria evaporating to be replaced with legitimate fear and apprehension.
"Not going to," the man said, unperturbed by the terrified turtle. He held up a large syringe. "Now, we see if you can metabolize vitamins."
Donnie seriously doubted there were 'vitamins' in the shot but he was powerless to resist. As the needle was exposed, he asked, "What kind of vitamins?"
"This is a multivitamin," the man said, wiggling the hefty dose between his slender fingers. "I'm hoping it binds with your mutagen to create a super vitamin." The man actually winked, lip curled in a cocky, greedy grin. "Personally, I have a month's pay riding on it. If the vitamins blend well with your mutagen, I'm going to patent them and be rich beyond my wildest dreams."
Donnie winced as the needle was jammed into his arm. The contents burned as mercury through his veins, but he held his tongue.
Doubtful he had tears left to cry anyway.
"Till tomorrow," the doctor cheerfully crowed, then left.
Donnie groaned, wondering for the fleetest of moments if he was given a poison to release him from this misery. He drifted into an uneasy sleep, too broken and bruised to care if he ever woke up again.
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The thing that aroused Donnie from his blissful canopy of unconsciousness was the smell of pepperoni. His lips spread in a grin.
Mikey must be cooking.
Though it was much too quiet for Mikey to be present.
Usually the kid was picking an argument with his brothers, banging on his drums, singing crude versions of popular songs, which most often earned him a reprimand by their father, or being wildly animated while playing video games. It was a downright miracle the kid could be stealthy.
A trait ingrained in him by Master Splinter, and to a certain degree, Leonardo.
It was Leonardo who first conceived the idea of sneaking into secured locations to practice their ninja skills. Their first (and favorite) stealth exercise employing their skills, was to sneak into Madison Square Gardens to drink directly out of the soda machines. Master Splinter wasn't happy when he found out, but he couldn't deny it had benefits, as Mikey began to excel in his shadow training.
Course, after the excursions, the turtle was wound up for days, practically bouncing off the walls. Which made him doubly annoying.
But Donnie loved him all the same.
He cracked open one eye, expecting to find the familiar sight of the lair, but reality jolted him to full awareness.
A bland, pitted, white ceiling hung above him. Following his nose, he rolled to his side and found pizza waiting by his bedside, on the floor.
Ravenous, he slipped off the bed and grabbed a slice. It was still warm so it hadn't been there long. He ate hurriedly, nearly choking in his haste. Movement behind the glass caught his attention. Two guards were watching him with little interest, one talking into his walkie. No doubt reporting Donnie awake and eating.
Donnie paid them no mind. The only thing he concentrated on was pizza. It was the most delicious, wholly satisfying, and as Mikey described it, 'totally awesome perfection of food!'
Why had he never realized the full magnitude of sauce and cheese before?
Pizza finished, and still hungry, he waved to get the guards attention, as they were busy speaking closely to one another's ears in a whispered conversation. They scowled at the interruption.
"What?" one of them barked over the intercom.
"Can I get another?" Donnie asked, motioning to the empty pizza pan. "Still hungry."
The guards exchanged a look, then one spoke over his walkie. He nodded. "Doc said it's okay."
A couple minutes later a guard appeared carrying another pizza. Donnie remained seated on the floor to appear as non-threatening as possible. He held up the empty pan in offering and eagerly took the fresh pie, scooping up a slice and devouring it in seconds. He couldn't remember being so hungry!
The delivery guard grunted in amusement and left.
Donnie got the fleeting thought he was being fattened up as a Christmas turkey before the big feast. He chewed slowly, watching the guards through the glass for any sign of intent, but they were more interested in each other than a hungry turtle.
Once finished, Donnie got into the shower, as always, taking solace in the healing properties of water. He didn't acknowledge the guard who came to collect his empty dish.
It had been days since Donnie was able to properly wash himself. He lathered up the soap and carefully worked it over his scales, which were returning to their softened green hue. There was barely any tenderness in his joints and muscles, the bruising faded. His eye was no longer swollen. He felt stronger, less scatterbrained than he did the day before.
Must have been the sanative properties of pizza.
Content, he sat down in the shower, the water cascading over him and lulling him into a sense of safety and serenity.
The door opened revealing the doctor from the previous day. Once again he held a large syringe. Donnie didn't bother moving. He simple sat immobile, enjoying the wash of water over his weary form. When the doctor approached, Donnie immediately offered his arm.
"I dare say you're feeling better," the doctor quipped, jabbing Donnie in the arm and emptying lava into his veins.
Donnie offered a noncommittal grunt.
Truthfully, he was feeling much better. As in, surprisingly strong, agile, and nearly back to his old self. But that could be a lingering side effect to low blood volume.
He must exercise caution and not get overzealous and attempt an escape. Not until his faculties were more alert.
He played the helpless captive, weak, non-threatening, hoping to stave off any further testing they had in mind so he could recover longer.
"Well, tomorrow we'll check your blood work and see if you just made me a billionaire or not," the doctor said with a toothy grin. He bounded from the room as if expecting a lot of presents on Christmas day.
"Little longer," Donnie whispered to himself, rubbing the injection site. "Just a little longer."
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The lights had barely cycled up to start the new day when the door opened and the doctor appeared with the kit to collect blood samples. Donnie didn't bother getting out of bed. He extended his arm solemnly, watching at his life blood was drawn into four tubes.
"Hold your breath," the doctor grinned as he worked.
On the outside, Donnie remained subdued, sluggish. On the inside, his mind was active, once again running through his plans to overcome the guards, release his bonds, and find a way to escape.
Since the breakfast pizza had helped him recover the day before, he had asked for it again for dinner. After eating, he retired to his bed and practiced the deep breathing exercises his father taught him, all the while, going over his plan in his head.
From process of elimination, he knew the exit wasn't down the left side of the hall. When he was taken to the cold room, down the right side of the corridor, he detected the smell of fresh air. Granted it was only a trace, and doubtful the humans even noticed it, but Donnie did.
And it gave him hope.
Which meant he had to be ready, hence his healing mantras, breathing techniques, and pizza infusions to charge his proverbial batteries.
Before his captors had time to think of new and cruel devices of torture, Donnie had to be prepared. So on and on he went over his plan, mindful of any contingencies, factoring in possible hindrances, all the while, flexing and priming his muscles for the job they were soon to be forced to perform.
Often he checked the glass to make sure he wasn't being observed. If his captors realized his intentions, they would undoubtedly make sport of him again. But more and more, the security guards were becoming lax.
And exactly what Donnie was hoping.
Donnie systematically tightened and released muscles in tandem, exactly as Master Splinter taught him when one is in close quarters and needing to maintain dexterity and strength.
Some wounds lingered, smarting slightly when the muscle was engaged, but Donnie didn't let it prevent him from doing a subtle workout. Watching the clock through the glass he worked out in such a manner for two hours intervals, taking two hours off to recover strength, (and eat,) and then repeat the subtle workout.
The smarting along his muscles grew less and less as memory returned to damaged, atrophied tissue.
If he could have a couple more days of respite, he'd be ready to spring his trap and escape from this prison.
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The next morning, Donnie ate breakfast at a leisurely pace, yawning several times and feigning exhaustion for the guard standing behind the glass, more interested in his phone than the prisoner. Before Donnie finished, the door opened, disgorging the doctor who took his blood the day before. The man's smile nearly swallowed his face. He practically bounced into the room.
"Oh, you little goldmine!" the man blurted, boldly grasping Donnie's face and squeezing his chin. His eyes were wide, maniacal. "Your mutagen is supercharging the vitamin cocktail I gave you!"
Donnie pretended not to understand. "Is that good?"
"Oh, my dear, sweet, precious little goldmine," the doctor cooed, giving Donnie's face an affectionate squeeze before releasing it. "It means the vitamins are undoubtedly magnified by that wonderful mutagen your body so graciously provides. Naturally, no less. Can you imagine? It will take awhile to synthesize, of course, but until we can perfect the formula, I can patent it and use your unlimited reserves to sell to the highest bidder!"
"That good, huh?" Donnie asked, working his jaw from the man's bruising grip. Hoping to play his part as an abused, recovering, docile animal, Donnie continued. "Then why do I still feel exhausted and achy? Shouldn't I be feeling better?"
"Well, you did take quite the beating a few days ago," the doctor said without any remorse. He withdrew another syringe. "And we have been rather brutal in testing your capabilities the past couple of weeks. So it's only natural it will take time for you to rebound."
Donnie held out his arm to accept his injection. It still burned like hell, but from what Donnie ascertained, it was aiding his mutagen in healing his injuries. It appeared as if fate was finally smiling kindly on him.
Now the only question was, how long could he keep up the farce and regain his strength before he made his escape?
"Tomorrow, I have a new idea for a cocktail," the doctor grinned happily, bounding to his feet and gliding from the room.
Donnie finished eating deep in thought. He wondered what the doctor had in store for him, but if it meant such positive results, Donnie would bide his time. The more he healed the higher percentage for success. And the doctor was so enthralled with the potential monetary gain from Donnie's mutagen/vitamin cocktail, he failed to notice Donnie's physical state, namely the barely visible remnants from his abuses. As long as the doctor remained distracted, Donnie would play up his docile and abused nature.
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Later that night, Donnie kept his eyes cracked to mere slits, watching as a guard wandered through the observation room at 10, and didn't return until nearly 8 the next morning.
The guard gave him half a glance and moseyed along, no longer interested in the giant talking turtle.
As Donnie enjoyed poptarts and bacon for breakfast, the doctor came waltzing in, rattling a case to collect blood samples. Donnie made sure to give a tired sigh as he held out his arm for the customary poke.
"Here's hoping for more positive results!" the doctor gloated, filling three vials and practically floating away.
Donnie caught the eye of one of the guards, who was startled by the doctor's over exuberance as well.
"That guy's weird," Donnie imparted.
The guard nodded, following the doctor out the door.
Breaking pattern, the doctor returned a couple hours later. His face was alight in childish glee as he approached Donnie with a new syringe.
"This is going to be the game changer!" He didn't wait for Donnie to present his arm. Instead, he jabbed the needle into Donnie's neck, smiling broadly as the tube was emptied into Donnie's bloodstream. He lightly caressed Donnie's cheek. "You are the specimen science once dreamed of."
Donnie wasn't sure how to take that statement.
But it didn't matter.
He expected the injection to burn like the vitamins, but the doc must have changed up the formula. Ice trickled through Donnie's veins, slow to freeze the tissue and muscle he had exercised inconspicuously that morning.
Though Donnie could visually see the man, he lost the cognition to identify him. As an acquaintance or friend or even an enemy.
Donnie blinked in slow motion, gaze slow to focus on the person crouched before him. Donnie wasn't sure, but he felt as if he should know what this strange bipedal creature was, with stringy hair and wild eyes, but as the seconds ticked away, so did his mind.
Everything became a blur.
A wild, fascinating dream, caught between realities.
Though Donnie could see everything around him, the white walls, bland tiles, pane of glass, the names of such things eluded him. He opened his mouth but the ability to speak was robbed. He could only gape, mindlessly, unable to comprehend sight, sounds, words, location.
Intelligence melted away in the cool encompassing cotton threading through Donnie's head, sending him drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
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Donnie was unable to feed himself dinner. He rolled on the floor, blindly searching for food. His glasses had fallen off but he lacked the ability to comprehend the need for them. Nosing around the plate, he licked and bit the pizza as efficiently as a toddler feeding themselves.
"Has he spoken?" Bishop asked his companion as they stood in the observation room.
The doctor offered a noise of frustration.
"Merely gibberish. The truth serum stripped away his intelligence. He's nothing more than an animal, operating on the most basic instincts, but he should regain his senses by morning. I gave him a dose of vitamins this evening to speed up the process."
Bishop's brow arched, cold eyes watching the turtle chew on the plate like a puppy and babble nonsensical words.
"Begin the next phase."
The doctor paused. "So soon? If we scaled back the dosage, I'm sure I can get him to divulge his secrets."
"There will be time enough for that later," Bishop said. "Get the next experiment prepared. I'm intrigued by your recent findings."
"Are you sure?" The doctor shifted nervously from foot to foot. "There are a few other tests I'd like to try. While he's weak and submissive."
Bishop's lifeless stare focused on his companion. "If you don't wish to become part of the experiment, I suggest you obey your orders, Doctor."
The doctor gulped, pale from the light coming through the window of Donnie's room. He gave a brisk nod.
"I'll get everything ready."
"Good," Bishop breathed, returning his attention to Donnie, who was licking the sauce off the floor. "Very good indeed."
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o-o- MERRY CHRISTMAS-o-o-o-o-o
So, did ya likes? Any ideas on what's gonna happen next?
*hint* I'll be posting a teaser (rough draft) portion of next chapter on my PAT RE ON page tomorrow for those who wanna know what's going on… muhahhahhahaaaa~~
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