Warnings: Relatively non-graphic depictions of torture.
Chapter 5: Enter Bishop
Groggily Donatello tried to lift his head and found that he couldn't. Odd. His eyes opened and, after his vision field flooded with harsh white light, immediately snapped shut again. A pounding began in his left temple. Was this a hangover? It felt like a hangover. But that didn't make sense. He didn't drink.
He could be dead, also. That wasn't an entirely unattractive option. But if he was dead, why did his head hurt so badly? And his shoulder, too, for that matter. Hmm. Maybe fundamentalist Christian theology was correct, and this was hell. That made some sense—certainly one could be damned to hell for killing one's own father.
But what if, to honor your father, you had to kill him? Don couldn't remember that particular problem being addressed. His thoughts began to drift, back into the past.
Maybe if he'd prepared better, he could have made them understand. He'd expected shouting and vehemence, but he hadn't expected it from Leo. If only the situation hadn't deteriorated so rapidly, if he hadn't been banished so quickly, he could have explained …
"My son, you are a healer and a fixer," the old rat had begun, kindly but seriously, those many years ago. "Science and medicine cannot heal all things, however. When it is my time, I wish to die with the dignity of which I have so often been deprived in life."
Frightened, Don had only been able to stare mutely at his master.
"Do you understand, Donatello?"
He'd nodded reluctantly. "Hai, Sensei."
And he had understood, though since that conversation there had been times he wished he hadn't. But he was glad too. It was so little to ask for, and Don was glad he could give it to his father, even given the consequences.
Back in the present, a sharp voice sliced through Don's recollections: "Open your eyes, turtle."
Almost involuntarily Don's eyes shot back open. There was no mistaking that voice. After his eyes adjusted and pale angular face wearing sunglasses appeared before him, Donatello realized with a sinking heart that once again he'd been right. He was definitely in hell.
---
The group stood in the living room, staring down at the carpet.
"Think they followed us?" Mike threw a nervous glance towards the door, and everyone else's eyes followed. No one would have been surprised if government agents burst through right at that moment.
April spoke up. "I don't think so."
"Me neither," said Casey.
"Good." Leo nodded. "At least that's one thing less to worry about. So let's talk about the next immediate worry—how to get Don the hell out of there."
Mike's head whipped around. "You mean that you … " Suddenly he looked away and let his sentence trail off.
You mean that you want to go back for Don? April, and everyone else, heard the words as clearly as if Mikey had spoken them.
Leo stared at his youngest brother, hurt eyes offering a silent reprimand. "You think that I—that Don …" He glanced away. "Jesus, Mike. I know we've had our differences in the past, but I'm not a monster."
While Mike winced, April walked across the room to where Leo stood and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "No one said you were, Leo," she said softly. Then she smiled. "So tell us, what's the plan to get Donny back? We're all ears."
---
"You've been drugged, by the way."
Don squinted at his captor and tried to muster up some anger but failed. It was hard to be angry because it was hard to think. Instead he simply followed Bishop's movements with his eyes, as the man attached electrodes to various points on Don's body, which was strapped down to a metal table with heavy leather restraints. The straps were rather unnecessary, because whatever the drugs were more than enough to immobilize him, and it occurred to Don that perhaps the leather straps were more for Bishop's aesthetic pleasure than anything utilitarian.
"The drugs are to ensure your compliance," Bishop continued conversationally, sticking an electrode on Don's upper plastron. Then he noticed the still-oozing gunshot wound on Don's shoulder.
As a small smile stretched across his lips, he touched the wound and, even in his drugged state, Don let out an involuntary grunt at the pain. "Seems that it still stings," the human observed emotionlessly.
Meanwhile, the extra pain caused Don to black out again. Right before he went under, his poor battered brain, like a record skipping its groove, jumped back in time again.
---
Ten years ago, the universe shifted and the world turned upside down. The two quiet, calmer Hamato brothers stood inches from one another, screaming, spittle flying. The two louder, more emotionally-volatile brothers stood to the side, watching in numb shock.
"You killed him!"
"He was next to dead already! He hasn't been conscious in weeks!"
A growl. "He might have woken up, dammit, if you hadn't interfered! Even the almighty Donatello isn't completely infallible."
A firm shake of the head. "Leo, he wasn't ever gonna wake up!"
"Liar!" It was at time point that Leo's hand went for his katana and Raph, jerked from his numbness, leapt forward to pull his oldest brother back. The blade missed Donatello's throat by a matter of centimeters rather than inches.
---
Impatiently, Mike squatted in the sewer tunnel near Bishop's newest building, twirling a 'chuck to while away the time. A few steps ahead Leo stood ram-rod straight and perfectly still, a katana gleaming in the dim light. From behind Mike could hear Raph's occasional frustrated sighs.
As Mike put away the nunchuck so he could fiddle with the uncomfortable wireless headset he was wearing, April's voice suddenly crackled in his ear. "Underground sensors have been deactivated." Mike grinned and brought his 'chuck back out. Then he grabbed the second.
"How are you doing on the sensors in the building?" Leo asked in a hushed voice.
There was a pause and some static. Finally, April replied, "Still working on them, Leo."
Raph snorted in annoyance, and Mike observed in a stage whisper, "If it was Don doin' the hacking, he would totally have all the sensors down by now." Leo turned around to give both his younger brothers a dirty look.
"Them's fighting words," April's voice shot back, which was a perfect blend of laughter and pure granite determination.
---
As Don slowly came to, he realized the pain in his head was only getting worse. When he forced his eyes open, once again the face of Agent Bishop hovered above him.
"I haven't even turned on the electrodes yet," said Bishop, a dark eyebrow cocked in an incongruently prissy fashion. "You're pathetic."
That was the second time in less than a forty-eight hour period that someone had called Don pathetic. What was up with that?
"Let's begin now. Shall we, Mr. Ghost?" Bishop's face disappeared from view, and Donatello could hear footsteps echoing away from him.
Clenching his jaw, Don waited for whatever came next. He tried to think of something peaceful and soothing—tried to "go to his happy place," as Mikey might say. Instead, Don's groping mind dredged up the memory of how he became the Black Ghost.
---
April glared at her computer screen while absent-mindedly blowing a strand of hair from her face. There wasn't much time. After shutting down the one set of sensors, it would only be a matter of minutes before her interference was discovered. She had to get the rest of the sensors down, and it had to be soon.
"Anything I can do to help?"
A small smile came to her lips as she kept pounding away on the keyboard. "Thanks, Casey," she said, "but unless you can magically make me smarter … nope, nothing you can do."
"Naw, 'fraid you're right than I can't make ya smarter. Can't improve on perfection."
April's little smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin. She made a quick mental note that, after Don was back home safe and sound, she was going to propose to the big softie. And if he wasn't a jerk about her being the one to do the question-popping, she'd even let him buy her a ring.
But right now, she had to get to the interior sensors. What on earth could the access code be? She drummed her fingernails on the desk and sighed.
Casey sighed too. "Y'know, I really hate that evil crazy sonofa—"
"Casey! Language."
"What?" Casey sounded hurt. "What you yellin' at me for? It's not like I'm the freak who thinks he's J. Edgar Hoover."
April's jaw fell open, and Casey's expression changed from one of hurt to confusion. Quickly April grabbed her keyboard, typed in "jedgarhoover," and hit the enter key. After a seeming eternity of processing, the computer screen greeted her with the words "access granted."
April letting out a loud whoop of triumph. Then she spun around in her desk chair to face Casey, who still looked baffled. As she grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward for a kiss, she murmured, "Casey Jones, you're a goddamn genius."
---
Five years ago, Donatello sat at his desk, frowning. It was three in the morning, and he'd spent all night working out the snarls in a computer program. His freelance programming work didn't pay well, but it paid enough for a small apartment in a bad part of town. Though in retrospect, the "bad part of town" bit had been lucky in a way. Nobody ever looked at him very closely, even during the rare moments he ventured out during the day, because nobody ever looked at anyone too closely. Wasn't safe to.
On the computer screen was yet another email from Michelangelo. Don had intended to only take a very brief break from programming to check his email, but he found himself staring for minutes on end at Mike's latest missive. Damn him. Why couldn't Mike just let it go? Let him go?
"Help! Oh, God, help!"
Don's head jerked towards the window. Crime wasn't at all uncommon in his neighborhood, but the man's scream sounded unusually close. Biting his lip, Don waited for a few moments to see if sirens would follow. But no sirens did.
Quickly Don went to his bed and swept his hand underneath the frame. In the far back he found the item of his search and pulled out his bo, long-unused. He'd never enjoyed fighting, and the thought of running into his brothers during their nightly vigils was too much for him to bear. And it'd been so easy to justify—after all, didn't his brothers still keep watch over the city?
But as Don reached the window and looked downwards, where a man was being beaten to a pulp, that justification rang hollow in his ears. His reasons for giving up ninjitsu were bullshit, and they had always been bullshit. If Splinter had still been around, he'd be completely ashamed.
Throwing up the window, Don stepped out onto the fire escape with his bo and quickly leapt to the ground, standing between the bloodied man and his attackers. It only took a few sweeps of the long, stout weapon to take out one and to send the other scurrying away. When he turned to look at the man he'd just rescued, Don saw him cowering against the wall, staring with open terror at his rescuer.
"What the hell are you?"
Don didn't reply but merely sighed and stepped back into shadows. For several minutes, the man remained paralyzed, breathing heavily. Then, finally convinced the monster had disappeared, the man stumbled down the street, holding a hurt arm against his chest. Once gone, Donatello climbed back up to his apartment, a decision made.
Clearly he couldn't ignore the cries for help any longer, but he didn't want to be a cause of distress either. Less than a month later, the Black Ghost made his first newspaper headline.
---
The memory was cut off abruptly by the sudden high-pitched whirring of a machine followed by a jolt of electricity shooting through Don's muscle tissue. Only the briefest of screams escaped Don's lungs before the pain caused him to pass out yet again.
Nearby, Agent Bishop allowed himself a small smile. The voltage wasn't terribly high. He'd expected the turtle to remain conscious for longer than this. Then again, the creature had been drugged. All in all, very interesting, very intriguing. He made a note on his clipboard.
Still, Bishop hoped his test subject would live through several more voltage increases before cardiac arrest occurred. Until he captured the rest of these mutants, he had to make this one last for as long as possible.
---
"All sensors are down!"
Leonardo felt his heart skip a beat. According to his own time keeping, he didn't think they had very long before the sensors would be back up. Even worse, while they had a rough idea of where Donatello might be held—thanks to April hacking into the building's computer systems—they didn't know in what condition they'd find him. A badly-injured Don would slow down their escape considerably.
For a moment, Leo considered turning around. The odds were not at all in their favor. Did he really want to risk the lives of his two brothers, as well as his own, for … this? For him?
"I repeat, sensors are down." A pause and crackly static. "Can you guys hear me? Please confirm."
Leo could feel the eyes of Raph and Mike burning into him, waiting, hoping, dreading. He knew what Mikey would say about turning around but wondered what Raph would think. Would Raph be angry? Would Raph understand? Maybe Raph even wanted to turn back himself. Maybe.
Clicking on his headset, Leo said, "We hear you loud and clear, April." He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in. "Great work, as always. Thanks."
The problem was the same old problem that always remained. Though he hated Don, he loved him too.
Without saying a word, Leonardo climbed up the ladder that led to Bishop's hideout and quickly opened the hatch that separated the sewer tunnels from the building's basement. Raph and Mike followed silently. Leo could hear audible sighs of relief from both of them.
---
Author's Notes: Thanks so much for the feedback on the action scenes. It's quite appreciated. Another somewhat-cliffhanger here, but next chapter reveals whether Don lives or dies. Minor revision 11/2.