Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Wow! This got a great comeback! Hope that I can keep it coming, I'll sure as hell try!

Chapter 5

Broken Bones

You know how in the movies and stuff, people wake up groggily, in a sleepy haze, with confusion, all peacefull-like and innocent? You know what I'm talking about, right? It's one of those 'movie things' kinda like how whenever someone has a nightmare they're always jolted awake in a cold sweat, a slight cough always means a deadly disease somewhere down the line, and dogs always single out and viciously bark at the bad guy? One of those. I wish I could've woken up like that.

I woke up in a panic. That sewer-water-soaked mattress fluff stuffed in my mouth had slipped to the back of my throat. Back far enough to effectively block my airway. I couldn't breath. I went from blissfull, sweet, ignorant sleep to my face turning purple, my eyes bugging out of my head, and my muscles cramping with their effort to rid me of this thing. My entire body spasmed in complete panic, me twitching and swinging like a fishing lure. The thing that held this fluff in my mouth felt similar to duct tape, and the swim through the sewer water had loosened the edges, but not enough to get it off, no matter how frantically I pushed at it with my tongue. My lungs were starting to burn.

Practically frothing like an animal, I sucked in with my mouth until I caught a bit of the tape with my teeth. I ground into it so hard I'm surprised that my teeth didn't snap. Not enough. I did it again and finally tore a small hole in it. Thrusting my tongue through it, I flexed the muscle (muscles are in the tongue, right?) while pushing up, down, and all around. This entire time, I've been gagging and retching so much that I was almost breathing out. I could feel that mattress fluff at the back of my tongue and was frantically trying to reach it, practically folding it in half.

I don't know how I did it, but just as my vision was beginning to blur, my stomach gave one last heave and that fluff popped into my mouth...followed by a stomach full of vomit. The worst part about it was that I couldn't just hurl it out like I normally can, because although I made a good sized hole in the tape, it wasn't enough. Pushing with my tongue, and still retching, the puke gushed out of the hole in the tape like a stream. It tasted NASTY!!! My eyes were watering and my throat burned from the acid. Plus, because I couldn't immedieately get rid of the stuff, I was on the verge of inhaling the icky stuff! Finally, the chunky onslaught was too much for even this resiliant piece of tape and it came off, allowing me to spit it all out at one time.

"AGH! GROSS! AHHH!" If my hands were free I'd be pawing at my tongue, trying to get the nasty taste out of my mouth. On top of that, my head was suddenly dizzy as oxygen rushed to it, my limbs tingling with sensation. I must've been a sight, the color returning to my cheeks and puke dribbling down my chin.

As much as I would've loved to continue getting this out of my mouth, I knew that my first order of business was getting out (Man! That sure doesn't sound like me!)...but how? Looking down at my bound hands, I wriggled my fingers. I knew that when I was tied up, I couldn't move them at all, I had even lost feeling in the tips. Maybe it was because of how long I was tied up, or the trip through the sewer, but it was definetly more loose than it was before. I tested the fabric, whatever it was. It was bound from my knuckles to halfway down my forearm, effectively pinning my arms to my chest before. Not now, though. While wriggling my fingers to try to get them under the loops I pushed at the bindings with all the strength in my arms. I began to develop a sort of rhythm in my pushing, remembering Donny saying something about it working better or something like that.

I felt the fabric give way a little bit and felt suddenly excited. It was working! I worked at it with a renewed frenzy. The fabric around my forearms was now loose enough that I could work my fingers into it. I pulled at it, not stopping the constant working of my arms. The fabric gave a little bit again. Wait...I looked at the wrappings on my forearms. It was loose-I was closer to pulling it off now-but that's not what I felt giving...I looked around. The sight was just as foreboding as before. The chamber several stories deep, pipes jutting out of the walls gushing water into the the churning pool at the bottom. I knew enough from living in the sewer that getting caught in the undercurrent could pin you to the bottom easily. That equals one dead turtle.

Once again I felt the fabric give away a little. I dropped a few inches.

I'd been hanging for so long that I didn't immediately realize where it was coming from. It was my upper arms. Pushing my chin into my plastron, I looked at them closer. From what I felt on the back of my shell that was where the rope was tied to, the one that pulled me through this mess. It gave again. I dropped a couple more inches. I felt something start to slip. As cold sweat beaded on my skin, I knew that it couldn't be good. As that something finally gave out, I found out that I was right.

I dropped so fast that my stomach must've slammed into my throat. I fell straight down, loop after loop slipping off from my arms as I began to run out of line. I looked down, eyes wide as the churning cauldron of water approached at an amazing speed. With pure panic I worked at the line on my forearms, struggling to get my hands free. The mist floating in the air seemed to pierce my skin like needles. I was a goner for sure.

At the last possible second, just as the last coil of line slipped from my upper arms, one of my hands broke free. Somehow with the other the fabric bunched around it in a knot. I snatched at the receding rope with the speed of a striking snake. I slid down it for some distance, both because of my falling speed and because the thing was wet. The fabric burned my hand as it ran through it. Somehow I was able to loop it around my knuckles at the last few feet of it. I tugged to a stop so hard that I gasped in pain as my fingers screamed. I'm pretty sure that I almost tore off my fingers. My heart still thudded hard in my chest, even as I took one incredibly shaky breath to try to get a hold of myself. Try to get into that wierd zen-place Leo's always visiting. I don't know if I found it, but I calmed down enough to open my eyes and look around.

I was hanging a scant fifty or so feet from the water surface. The sound of roaring water was defeaning. I looked up at my hand and grimaced. When I had looped the line around my hands it caught and I was beginning to wonder if I'd actually done any damage. My fingers poked out of the wrapped bundle at odd angles. Now that I kinda had time to do so, I slowly worked my other hand free of the line that had somehow become tangled with my fingers. I was careful not to accidently swing of tug at the line, knowing that my hand had gone through enough pain already. I let the remaining line from my good hand fall. Gingerly I reached up with my other hand and gently unwrapped my fingers by putting my weight on my good hand, putting enough slack in the remaining line to unwind my hand. It throbbed. The line came off the skin stubbornly, trying to stick for a second or so before finally letting go. In a couple of areas, the line had cut into my skin, leaving bloody, deep gouges in the flesh. Let's just say that it didn't look pretty.Tentatively I stretched my hand out, flexing my fingers. They crackled painfully, shooting arrows of fire up my hand. I leaned my head against my other hand, eyes shut tight and teeth clenched against the pain of it. Realizing I was holding my breath, I let it out slowly.

Looking at my hand again, I could tell that they were definetly broken. Sometimes moving them can put them back into place, which is what I was hoping, but that won't be the case here. Eyeing it closer, it appeared that I was wrong, initially. In some areas, it looked more like they were dislocated. I've set dislocated fingers before for my brothers. The best way was to get their mind on something else and then suddenly snap it into place when they least expect it. It actually helps to reduce the pain and makes it easier because they aren't anticipating it. I've had it done to me, I accidently got my chuck wrapped around a finger during a sparring match and one of my brothers yanked at it. But I've never done it to myself. Besides that, it looks like every joint in all my fingers except my thumb was messed up, not to mention the fractures that were probably in other parts of my fingers I had no clue if anything in my actual hand was broken.

Either way, I couldn't possibly see me doing anything about it right now. I need at least one hand to hold onto the line and keep from being turtle chow. It would be simple to use my legs to assist my one hand in climbing up...if they weren't tied up. Looking down at my bound legs I deliberated what to do. I wish I could fly, like Silver Sentry, then I wouldn't be faced with this dilemma. Well, if wishes were dollars I'd have every comic book in the world right now so I just need to figure out a way that an average, ordinary, mutant ninja turtle might be able to do it. Looking at my busted hand, I flexed my thumb. At least that still worked. After all, the line had been wrapped around my fingers and hand, leaving my thumb to grip. Lifting my legs to bring them in easier access, I looped the line around my healthy hand for extra hold and probed at the bindings. It was easier than I thought to find the end of the line (man, that sounds ominous) and work it out. I brushed my fingers a couple times against the bindings and had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. But eventually I worked it loose.

Stretching my legs a bit and wriggling my toes to get the circulation going, I clamped my knees on the line after unlooping my good hand. I heaved myself up with my left arm (where the good hand is) and followed with my legs. I then used them as an anchor to reach up once more. Yes, a slow process, I know. But at least I was getting somewhere.

I know that I'm not known for my great patience, and there's a reason for it: it doesn't exist. So you can understand my absolute relief when I finally reached the top where it was wound around the pipe. My arm was tired from being used singularly like this, so once I slowly heaved myself up on top of the pipe, I sat there for a second, flexing it and massaging the muscles with my other thumb. I looked around. At least I chose a lucky pipe. It was bigger around than I was and firmly bolted, so I probably don't have to worry about it breaking under me. And luck of lucks, there was an empty, open pipe big enough for me to walk into about five feet to where it connected into the wall.

Slowly I stood up, holding my arms out for balance as I walked the pipe. I may not be known as the brightest, most serious, or best fighter out of my brothers, but I firmly believed that I was the most physically inclined. I could probably do backflips down this thing, though with a busted hand it probably wouldn't be the best idea.

But what I saw at the end of the pipe, in the tunnel that I was heading to, stopped me dead in my tracks.

It was a monster. A monster that looked as though it had crawled straight from the depths of Hell.

And it was heading towards me.

A/N: This chapter was so fun to write! Once again I wrote it furiously between work, I was able to read over it once, but knowing me I didn't catch all of the typos and such. Please forgive any that you might see! I hope that you enjoy reading this chapter, I hope that I explained everything accurately while still keeping Mikey in character. It's hard, because in all situations like this on the show, he's acting more like the comedy relief and I want him to be serious. With luck I pulled it off.

Well, if you read it, review it!

Toodles!