Nirvana
AN: A large, glorious thank you to Scribe of Turesa and Eskimo-Otter for reviewing! It makes me want to do more for this story. Personally, I know my points but I have a fear it will be lacking and way below par to Enigma but that matters not. I shall not chicken out, for it will disappoint what readers I have, and to short-change the people that would take the time to read this is a large dishonor on my part as an attempted authoress. And so, here is chapter three :D! Please, enjoy!
NOTE: For those of you that like my TMNT work if you look on my profile I'm giving two (one per story) teasers of stories I will be making for the fandom. You can find them if you scroll down a bit on my profile. I really wanted to make a "TMNT mafia/gang wars/cops" type story and that is what spurred the creation for "Incognito". A glimpse of that realm/story can be seen through a future chapter of "Nerd Support" in the chapter "Time" (but the story will be written in third person, and not first person. Similar to the style of Enigma and Nirvana).
The second is Instincts, the fourth in the 'Colors' arch (it will be witheld until I get Copy Cat finished, obviously) and it follows the last barcode girl, Jade, through a wild chase away from the government, from the people that made her. By the way, I think after Nirvana, or even during Nirvana, I'll start Incognito just because I'm so entertained with the idea but it will only be posted after the chapter in Nerd Support explaining a little bit about the universe, giving it some background familiarity.
THANKS FOR LISTENING :D! Much appreciated! Now to your story, sorry for ranting!
Jezebelle had been too afraid to sleep peacefully that night. Her mind was buzzing with worries concerning Orion, blurry, broken nightmares with the setting she could barely recognize as the lair beneath Coney Island, and the noises of the new underground she'd found a safe haven in. Every dripping pipe convinced her claws to tighten on the floor of the dojo, every snore, until discovered, was the scrape of a weapon across a surface in the laboratory. She sighed, licking the "fur" of her hand again for comfort; catching the faint scent of her son against her…she smiled. Her tough little baby…Tigger was probably watching over him right now; busted out of his cage and everything to protect his child.
Or, at least, she hoped he was. Jezebelle shivered; her fur standing up bit by bit as she thought of the raw look in his shimmering eyes. Deadly eyes, eyes of a true tiger; a deep, dark brown. Almost a dead, lifeless brown. She never really could pinpoint just how human he was to get the concept of "protection" out of the bland rhythm of procreation that was an unwritten rule of Misellus Corp.
Had he ever been human? She wouldn't know…but he had pretty fur for a natural tiger. Jezebelle turned her head and looked at the door, blinking slowly, sleepily. Leo's green foot had retracted almost silently; had he not stepped with the ball of his foot, and with the assumed knowledge that the dojo was empty she wouldn't have noticed him. In the lair, in the home he and his brothers knew was safe regardless of the outside, they slept heartily and he needn't worry about waking them but her…he hadn't expected her to still be in the dojo, or be awake at five in the morning.
"I'm sorry," he bowed, not bothering to put his hands together since one was occupied with a well-used candle, "I didn't think that you were—"
"You were going to leave me in here…by myself." a slight look of hurt crossed her human-apparent face and Leo felt a pang of guilt. She could play those pretty lemon eyes like a child, couldn't she? Just like Mikey could blink his baby blues and get anything he wanted.
"No, not at all. Not intentionally, I mean. I thought you would've slept on the couch. It's much too hard in here for you to sleep. I meditate in the morning so I don't disturb anyone," Leo explained, sitting down slowly in the lotus position. Jezebelle was on her back again, stretching and arching up. Leo blinked, trying not to watch her, trying to focus on lighting the little candle. She was stretching just like Klunk; back a bridge of flexible vertebrae, her arms fully rotated back beneath her before she rolled forward in a 'crunch' position and fell softly to her side in a curled 'C' position.
"You can't very well disturb someone who didn't sleep, Mr. Hamato."
"Please, Leonardo." he corrected her, waving the match in the air to kill the flame as he peered down at the candle. Infantile, soft, the flame burned, casting a small halo of orange and yellow light across the small space it could reach. Jezebelle locked eyes with the flame. To just feel warm oh that was a blessing! She hadn't felt honest warmth in a while, though she knew she could provide it with her new cat nature; cats' body temperatures were often and naturally a toasty one hundred and two degrees.
That was more than enough to keep Orion warm but her warmth…her sense of safety…that was taken away years ago. "You didn't sleep? We could've gotten you a pillow or a blanket, you could've woke us up and—"
"Old habits are hard to break. When you're in that hell hole you don't want to sleep. It makes you easier to grab. If you do sleep and they want you, or you're new, they come and bang on your cage just to make sure you don't go into a sleep coma." his shoulders lowered and Leo shook his head. These people…they made him sick! How could they go around tormenting these women, aiding in keeping them captive?
"I…I'm sorry." he wasn't sure why he felt the need to apologize, or what to really say. He hadn't experienced what she had, and he wasn't sure how well he could show sympathy for something he couldn't relate to. Perhaps it was a ninja's honorable reflex. Women should never have to have a time this hard. It just wasn't right! As sexist as it may be he was brought up to let the women do lighter tasks and the men shoulder the hard load.
This, clearly, had not been introduced to this girl—no, she was a woman—and look at her. Missing for over two years, the mother of a child, tossed away like trash. "While the apology is endearing…polite, please, do not apologize for something you had no hand in. It makes me feel like less of a fighter when I get that pity. I may have been the underdog but I fought like a bitch. Just had a bad fight, don't you dare think I never tried, though."
"Right…" god, that was remarkable, he wasn't even going to lie. She had the same stubborn resistance of April, of Maeleyn, when faced with utter hopelessness. April stayed with them until she got her shop built back up, but she didn't quit; Maeleyn became a member of their troop and fought to the very end quite valiantly, and wound up as bloody and beaten as the rest of them. "Well, if you like—I'm not sure how much it'll help—you can meditate with me. All you have to do is fold your legs until you're sitting like me and breathe. Easing your body will release your mind to the astral plane." he cracked an eye open to see if she would copy him, just out of curiosity, and sighed. Leo lowered his relaxed shoulders, absently rubbing his naked knees (he didn't dress in his elbow and knee pads until five thirty, when Don would start stirring).
He wasn't quite sure what tempted her to sleep but she was most definitely gone. Pale-vanilla face framed by the candle light her skin looked less like fur and more human, but he remembered feeling her in his arms, and that she really did have fur. Jezebelle snored lightly, her face half obscured from being pillowed on her outstretched arm. The right half of her hair spilled over her arm, curled outward, and the left framed the down sloping shape of her chin, capturing the unnatural human round-ness a cat couldn't have; it shimmered in the candle light and Leo pinched the bridge of his nose, cutting off the staring. This wasn't right…what they did to her was wrong.
Just how was her mental status? If what Maeleyn said was right Jezebelle should be about twenty, in line with them, but who's to say the experimenting in the lab hadn't reverted her to a younger frame of mind? For a second or two there was a debate on whether or not he should leave the candle burning for her and Leo almost extinguished it. Her words were haunting, and when she looked at him with those yellow eyes, those pained eyes, and took his hand away from the flame. He wouldn't extinguish it.
"…When you're in that hell hole you don't want to sleep. It makes you easier to grab. If you do sleep and they want you, or you're new, they come and bang on your cage just to make sure you don't go into a sleep coma."
She wouldn't sleep in the darkness, then, the family would give her light. Hope. Leo eased out of the lotus position, padding quietly across the dojo and slipping out the ajar door. He'd leave it open in case she freaked out and turned out to be claustrophobic like Casey was. By the time he'd gotten out of his room fully dressed Don was at the table nursing the usual first cup of coffee.
"Is our new guest going to want anything to eat?"
"No," Leo shook his head. "She passed out after watching me light a candle." a long feminine yawn broke the conversation. Maeleyn inhaled deeply, scrunching her hair in both hands before letting it fall around her neck as she strode into the kitchen.
"You're talking about Jezzie, I take it?" Don gave a confirming nod. Maeleyn puckered her lips and frowned. It still bothered her that Jezebelle knew nothing of her. Had they completely rebuilt her memories? Did she even know there was family waiting back home for her? They may not be her original family, but some of the original members were still there.
"Leo said she fell asleep in front of a candle." Donnie mused slightly, smiling into the rim of his coffee cup. Maeleyn grinned, sitting at the nearest chair as she leaned her head on the arm curled around the top of it.
"She never did like the dark…made her panic. Unless someone was in the room with her she'd have to sleep with something on. When I used to spend the night over at her house she kept the TV on. Jezzie always said it was her reaction from being a premature baby. She had to spend three months in the hospital under lights because she was only a pound and ten ounces when she was born."
"It explains the attachment to light," Don shrugged; "She finds it a security blanket." the genius tapped on his mug quietly, thinking. He wanted to get that blood test as soon as possible. Maybe let her remaining kin know she was okay, alive, it would certainly put what vigil she had to rest. Comfort some grieving hearts. Leo caught the curious, wondering look in his brother's eyes.
"Donnie," his raised voice hinted at polite-as-possible inquiry, "what are you thinking?"
"Maeleyn, you'd know better than anyone. Is there anyone back home looking for her?"
"Oh Donnie, no. Don't bring her family into this. That's a whole 'nother can of worms you don't want to touch." red flag, instantly, both brothers were mentally high alert. Why not? What happened? Was she secretly an orphan? Were her parents in league with the Foot or the Purple Dragons?
"What do you know that she can't—"
"Another time." Maeleyn cut him off, shaking her head firmly. She couldn't risk Jezebelle waking up and walking in. Not so soon, not hearing that. It would surely kill her, or make her wish she'd been dead. Something like that was never easy for a child, any child, to take.
"But why would you—"
"Shut it!" she hissed, the small 'mreeeep!' catching her attention. She must've startled herself into waking up, like a dream too lucid. Maeleyn shot Don one final, nasty look before putting a smile on her asparagus face, watching the other mutant arch her back and squeeze her buttocks through the door with slight difficulty. Still walking on four paws Maeleyn looked at her friend and frowned; she shouldn't do that. Don gave a raised-eye ridge greeting and sipped his coffee.
"Here, stand up. This is bugging me. You never used to walk like this! Stand up Lincoln! Don't let them change you! You're not like this!" it was driving Maeleyn crazy. Jezebelle not knowing her was one thing—one very bad thing these idiots had done to her—but completely changing her customs and nature around was another. That's a personal level of functionality and intimacy no one should touch. Ever. On anyone, especially her.
"Get your hands off of me! Don't touch me! Rrrrr!" she twisted her furry forearm out of Maeleyn's grasp and stopped her unsheathed claws just inches from Maeleyn's unprotected nose. The cat woman was fast. "It's one thing to call me by a wrong name, but completely another to manhandle me without reason!"
"It's not a wrong name!" Maeleyn objected snappishly, "it's your last name. Those people didn't tell you that when they obviously wiped your damn brain! You are Jezebelle Lincoln!" Jezebelle ripped her arm away from Maeleyn and rubbed the tender spot her grip had made.
"You have a really strong grip for a woman," conceded Jezebelle as she glowered at Maeleyn. That odd reptilian female, going ballistic on her! What was she thinking? Who had she lost to be so delirious over her? Clearly she was mistaking her for another Jezebelle…but how many girls named 'Jezebelle' in the world could there possibly be? Ones that she knew, no less?
"I know," Maeleyn tried not to cry, clenching her fists so hard at her side they shook. She was almost certain there would be imprints of her claws in her skin when she finally found the strength to loosen them. "You told me that when we went to the same primary school in Rhode Island. A kid named Sampson Voorheese took your lunch box and I got it back for you because he'd pissed me off the day before when he dumped his juice box in my hair." Jezebelle's ears twitched back once, a single flap, and she blinked. How much of this could she really trust? How did she know this whole 'rescue' thing wasn't just a set up for the boss to see how long it took her to get back to her kid?
What if he was punishing her child for her taking so long? "Look, I'm sorry you lost this friend of yours…if you tell me what they turned her into I can tell you if she was alive when they came for me. I just know who you're thinking of isn't me. I don't recognize you, and I don't remember you. I think I'd remember a walking…um…reptile woman."
"Turtle-alligator-human hybrid." corrected Maeleyn. She sighed, rubbing large circles on her temples to stretch her tears ducts back and contain the tears. If Jezebelle couldn't remember her there was no use crying over her…not in front of her.
"Why don't we have breakfast?" Mikey had been listening from the safety of the concealing corner and quickly sought to diffuse the obvious dismay Maeleyn radiated. "I'll make eggs! Have a seat, eggs cook super fast."
"At least the way Mikey cooks them…" Don muttered dryly, arching his eye ridges in slight amusement. The orange-wearing turtle caught the comment and pointed the spatula playfully at him.
"Hey, you can't even cook so I'd shut your beak if you want breakfast, bro. Besides, we're out of cereal."
"Mikey!" Leo hissed after hearing that, "did you eat Raph's cereal?" it had been the only one left in the cabinet and Raphael had made it very clear that the last bowl was his. No look of guilt crossed the little brother's face. Great, another thing to fight over, thought the eldest.
"Yeah, he won't miss it. He doesn't eat cereal everyday Leo. Besides, today's an egg day anyways since I'm making them." said Mikey matter-of-factly as the eldest began to take down the plates and set the table, Mikey cracking more and more eggs to fit into the pan. He plopped a slice of cheese atop the mass of popped, yellow food occupying the pan. A dab of milk to make the eggs fluffy and he was set, dutifully scrambling them and separating them into portions, the milk left unattended for the moment on the counter. Jezebelle sniffed the air, a pleased smile coming onto her face. Milk…sweet, sweet milk.
It almost made her feel as relaxed and giddy as Tigger could. She stood up, walking on two feet like she'd seen everyone do at the facility, and went to grab the milk; tail swishing from side to side. The milk was hers, captured! Jezebelle smiled almost childishly, gripping the carton firmly with two hands. "Hey…" she jumped, the red-wearing brother stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and stretching.
Distinctly she heard pieces of him pop, and her ears flexed in automatic response to the brief new sounds. He leaned over her to grab a bowl and frowned at the cabinet. "Mikey…" the hot brown eyes narrowed on the terrapin chef. "That's why you made eggs." Raph hissed at him, shutting the cabinet with more force than necessary. "Little shit," he grumbled under his breath.
Raphael snatched the carton out of her hand, without even thinking, and poured the rest of it over Mikey's head; the little brother could only be thankful he'd just finished clearing the pan and setting up all the plates. Mikey blinked milk out of his eyes and Jezebelle growled at Raphael. "Wasteful urchin!" she hissed, stomping on his foot with as much force as her frame would allow before walking over to Mikey and plucking the headband from around his eyes. Raphael groaned in pain; his foot now throbbing as Mikey's light protests and curiosity rose above the grating noise he made in his throat while she mopped the milk from his face. Successful at cleaning the young one's face she began to suckle the bandanna, getting the milk out of the fabric.
She began to walk off, happy with her catch. "Hey, hey! Aren't you going to eat the eggs?"
"For the moment I have milk. The eggs can be my lunch. I'm quite…ensnared with this head cloth of yours." Jezebelle gave a crooked, smart smirk and briefly took her hands off the ground to swat at the hanging tails before sticking her happily, slowly wagging tail straight up in the air, trotting off around the corner to enjoy her prey. Mikey's skin, when the brothers and Maeleyn turned to look back and assess him, was a burnt green. The young terrapin was embarrassed. Raph chuckled, along with Maeleyn; Mikey looked torn between being robbed and excited that his bandanna had been stolen so intimately from him and used as a cloth the new stranger was now sucking on.
"I…" for a second Mikey was speechless. "I'm not going to lie," he finally found his voice, "that's hot. It…it's just hot. OW!" Jezebelle poked her head around the corner, now sucking near the eye hole of the mask where the milk had collected first from the downward flow.
"You really shouldn't hit him there," she observed. "You'll damage his occipital lobe." Maeleyn locked her jaw. Jezebelle remembered that from a high school class but not her? Go figure. She'd spent most of her life studying hard for tests…she always stressed about her grades.
Was she going to remember everything but her? Just what did she remember her for, anyways?
"Hello there, Tigger." the voice cackled, and the person squatted down to stare at the angry creature detained by the strong, unyielding iron bars. The boss produced a bloodied bandage that had been a scrap of the O'Neil's—actually it was Jones's garbage now, wasn't it?—garbage and held it up to the cage. Indulging in cat nature the large tiger sniffed it curiously, growling soon after. "Yes," the handler smiled grimly, wrapping their knuckles against the metal bars, "you remember this scent, don't you?" it blinked bright brown-yellow eyes at the person in front of the cage. "Those nasty, nasty turtles," cooed the handler; crushing the bandage in their palm with the utmost disgust.
It was their fault this whole base had to be built in the first place…they ruined the last one. All the beautiful work. At least now that stupid kiss ass wasn't around to hinder any new development. "Remember this smell, big cat, because you'll be hunting soon." promised the boss, pulling up from the cage despite the obnoxious growling that followed. In the silence the boss walked, the echo of shoes sending every nerve of every creature in every cage alive with worry and fear.
A smile met the cold lips at the very thought of a presence being so dominating, so fear-inspiring. It was a great success. "Rffft!" the little orange paw wrapped in a splint and a matching white bandage shot through the bars of the significantly smaller cage, trying to catch the material of the boss's coat. His instinct was wild; his little eyes were angry, and he began to screech, biting at what cloth he'd caught with his paw. Squatting down to watch him chew at the coat like a lion gnawing the meat off a gazelle the boss smiled, daring to stick their left hand into the cage (it was the safer option, the hand had no feeling whatsoever) to pet him. Good boy.
"I see the accelerant is working," that was good. Tigger and his boy could go hunting soon. He would be big and strong, ready, like his father. The accelerant was increasing his fur production, and elongating his body; furry, puffy patches of orange fuzz dominated the little body, black streaks hinting at his tiger nature. By chart he may be nine weeks but by accelerant he was almost three months, and still going.
"This is mommy," whispered the handler, slipping the brush through the bars. The co-worker, Shadow, had—for some reason—a previous stash of Jezebelle's items. Maybe they had been a couple... how the missing girl had changed hands to wind up here was confusing, and honestly the boss didn't care. She wasn't truly dead, anyways. That same feeling, one a twin to the assumed lie that Maeleyn was dead, was back and throbbing as loudly and obviously as a jack hammer.
They have her…you know they do, they always help the ones down on their luck. And it was true, they did. Those Hamato boys were drawn to bad-luck girls like magnetism because it was a way to express their use, make them feel normal and have a purpose, regardless of their mutation. It allowed them to do something good with their lives."And these are the evil people that have her." at the moment the only source of turtle scent happened to be the bits of Michelangelo and Maeleyn's bandanna that had been recovered from the year-old disaster scene, and had yet to be rebuilt (and probably never would).
The cub sniffed it religiously, putting it to memory. Evil people, how dare they take his mother? He pawed at the material, snaring it across his teeth, ripping it wildly into shreds. Giggling, the handler got up from the small cage. That was good, very good. Nice progress.
"Mmm, yes." beginning to walk away the boss sent a hand through their hair. Most people that had been victims of last year's failed DNA experiments didn't have their real hair. It was sad…but theirs was still intact! "Let's see how you handle this, Mr. Hamato. I'm back up to bat and this time I'm not going away. And if I have my way, that chinky-eyed bitch won't be helping you out this time…" their wish was a stretch. Karai wasn't so easy to kill, given her training.
But that didn't mean it couldn't be done. Time for some technological creativity…
"And it's day three in the search for little Kiko Mayuhari. Mr. and Mrs. Mayuhari had another conference with Channel Five early this morning. They swear they won't go back home until they have her. What was supposed to be a fun family trip to the Big Apple turned into a fiasco when she disappeared in the Coney Island theme park just three days ago. If anyone has any information please call the tip line at one-eight hundred-five-three-five-seven-two-eight-four. Thank you, this is Chad Fontaine for Channel Five."
Jezebelle blinked her eyes, the noise from the pre-taped interview with the grieving parents muted due to her thought-based focus. How sad. People were missing her, and she was gone…they had no idea where to look but they were probably right above her. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, something crawling away from the fuzzy memories, coming back with loud, yelling clarity. They have her, Jezebelle thought, there's no doubt in my mind that they have that little girl.
Goose bumps crawled across her skin, fur standing up. She sank to the floor, curling up and pressing her ears down into her hair so she wouldn't have to hear it. Her own voice was so loud!
"Please! Please let me out, you've made a mistake! I'm supposed to be at Columbia, we were sight-seeing! I know this isn't part of the tour; you let me out, right now! Now you son of a bitch!" the man leered down at her. He'd told her he was the guide, and had taken her across the street from the campus to get a hot dog, because it was the "food of New York!" and she'd gone. She'd gone without her aunt because she was eighteen…an adult. With a new life, and it was time to handle things like an adult. His grip on her arm had been so hard…it still pulsed in pain.
That hot dog he'd fed her wasn't normal. She still felt sick, but not a 'food poisoning' sick. A drugged, not functioning sick was more the kind she felt brewing sourly in the pit of her stomach. It mixed with fear to make a deadly emotional cocktail.
Her feeble human hands gripped the cage, and tried to shake it. "My name is Jezebelle Anetta Lincoln, and I refuse to be here! You remember my name, remember it for when you get charged with kidnapping! People will pick up real quick that I'm missing, and you'll be sorry! The name Lincoln will put you in jail, pal!"
"No…no, no! Let me out of here…I…I need to get back home. This is wrong!"
"Hey, hey! Wake up!"
"REOWR!" she shot up in the air, hissing and spitting, landing with completely raised fur atop the couch. Jezebelle cuffed at Michelangelo's re-adorned head and growled, hunkering low and clutching the couch like a life line.
"You were wigging out, dudette. I just wanted to help…"
"Where is she? That girl mutant?"
"Hanging out in Raph's room, where else?" she remembered the smell of her from the kitchen. Jezebelle hopped off the couch, on the prowl, and trotted swiftly through the lair so she could locate the smell, sniffing rapidly like a bloodhound. Pressed low to the ground for speed she shuttled around the stone home, stopping at a closed door, pawing at it curiously.
"Don't scratch!" a female voice reprimanded after Jezebelle gave a few loud test scrapes. No doubt. That girl was in here. Maeleyn poked her head out of the door, rock music wafting softly from the room.
"You…you knew my name. I…I believe you." Jezebelle stood; the unfaltering look of belief in her eyes. Maeleyn's eyes widened. "I…I was screaming from a cage. That man…he…I was sight-seeing and he gave me a hot dog. It was bad and I…I remember screaming 'my name is Jezebelle Anetta Lincoln, and I refuse to be here!'." the cat woman shook and Maeleyn threw her arms around her, as if she was saving her. She was hugging a friend that hadn't been seen, hugged, helped, in two years. "That little girl on the TV…somehow I remembered being caught…maybe because she's missing. And when I was missing, I was there…"
"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" Donnie threw the science magazine aside and stood up, quieting the two chattering women. "You had a triggered flashback?"
"I remembered being in the cage…for the first time." Jezebelle looked at Donatello with wide eyes, unsure of what he was getting at. Her ears flicked nervously into Maeleyn's hair and she shrunk into her so-called friend. He was getting a crazy look in his eyes!
"Yes, yes that's a triggered flashback. Maybe your experiences aren't as repressed as I thought. Would you mind coming into the lab with me? It's remarkable you would even want to let yourself see them but I think, subconsciously, you want to remember them so you can stop the person who did this to you."
"Or the people," Maeleyn added. Rose, Stockman, and Shredder hadn't worked alone one year ago…she had no doubt that whoever was behind this was working alone now, either. It just didn't fit the evil villain mentality.
"A lab? You have a lab? Hell no I'm not going into one of those again! You can't make me!" Jezebelle slammed herself on her stomach and latched on to the bottom of Raphael's door. The wood creaked at the pressure of her claws bearing into the old, salvaged wood.
"Please, it's for beneficial purposes!"
"That's what they said!" Jezebelle spat at him. "And it turns out that doesn't mean beneficial to me!" she pointed out. Donnie faltered a bit, Maeleyn already trying to pull her off the bottom of the door. Of course…why would she trust anyone that had a lab?
"If you come with me I promise you, I can show you that I'm not going to hurt you! I'm not like those people!" Jezebelle's arms strained to maintain the hold on the door. Raphael, the red-wearing one that used so much profanity around her, was trying to open the door from the other side. He was trying to make her lose her grip. The hotheaded brother had just enough slack on the door to peer out and see two people trying to wrestle her off his door. This was amusing…Maeleyn glowered at him.
"Raph!" she hissed with a grunt, trying to heave Jezebelle up, her arms locked around her abdomen, "Don't smile, it'll encourage her!"
"I just think it's funny you and brain boy over there can't lift her. OW!" Jezebelle hadn't slipped but after she and Donnie heard his teasing they decided to pull Jezebelle in such a way that her force would cause his door to slam on his fingers. The brainiac grinned with Maeleyn. "Leo! Leo! Please come over here and explain to her that my lab isn't like the lab she came from!" the eldest brother peered at what'd happened in the noon hour. He'd been in the dojo for an hour but obviously this had occurred at the end of his training or he would've been disturbed by such a ruckus. She yowled, displeased, as they continued to pull on her; her ears pulled back in concentration as she glared at the door, digging her claws into it as Raphael tried to pry her fingers off of it from the other side.
"Donnie's right," Leo tried simply, "he's our house doctor. Do you think we'd let him even go near a pair of needles if he had bad intentions?"
"He wouldn't hurt you because you're his kind! You're his family!"
"Maeleyn's not direct family, but he doesn't hurt her…"
"She's a reptile, like all of you!"
"Do you think we'll hurt you because you're not a reptile?" he asked curiously. Just what had they done to her? Was there some sort of animal discrimination where she'd escaped from?
"You stick with your family, your clan. They help you out. They separate you by species in there, so you learn to love your species! They're your family, they help you!"
"Making barriers instead of merging…" Donnie noted. That would certainly influence the suspicion that you could only trust another of your species. Those workers probably didn't want a multi-animal mutiny so if they sectioned them and maintained them as broken pieces there was no chance of rebelling because each "clan" as she called it had their own weakness. If your whole family is weak to something then you have to remain docile so there's no repeated exposure. After all, no one wants to lose their family; when caged the family sticks together, tighter than ever because one never knows when they'll be taken away from you.
"Get away from me candle boy! Don't you touch me!" Leo was trying to slip his leg under her to push her hand down, to force her palm off the bottom of the door but it wasn't working. She was kicking him in the face, mashing the furry foot on his cheek with enough force to detain him, not to hurt him. Her leg muscles strained in the obvious hint she didn't want him to interfere and she didn't want to be pulled off the door.
"Candle boy…" he could hear Raph snicker from the other side of the door.
"Shut up Raph, you could help us you know!"
"Mikey, Mikey come here! Tickle her in the ribs, she hates being tickled!"
"What? No! No! Mikey don't you touch me!"
"Aww, is little kitty mad? Well little kitty's all stuck under the door so you can't really stop me, can you?"
"Oh I'll stop you!" Leo grinned. Wow…Mikey actually was effective in his annoyingness. Her claws glistened, somewhat longer than her fur in their slipping-out state and Mikey giggled at her. Jezebelle's golden eyes widened at the sight of her free hands. Raph swung open the door, laughing, as Leo began to struggle to detain the flailing cat woman.
"If you'll please—please, if I could get you to-pfft! Pfft!" Jezebelle was content with swiping her tail across Leo's mouth since he'd detained her by wrapping his two arms across her, pinning her to his body. She was curled around his neck like some sort of stole; one arm holding her shoulders and the other holding her hips. He was getting fur in there, or feared he was, and continued to pop his chin up, to avoid the appendage, as to not get stuck with hair in his mouth.
"What's a matter fearless? Can't handle a kitten?"
"I am not a kitten, sir! I am a full-grown woman!"
"Well I'm gonna call you a kitten, okay? Deal with it."
"And I'm going to call you an ass hole, how 'bout that? Deal with it."
"Was she always like this?" Raphael asked Maeleyn, pointing to the sweetly sarcastic, confident, smile on her face. Maeleyn grinned brightly, nodding.
"Lincoln's mouth sometimes got her in trouble but she knew how to talk shit back. That deserves a fist-pound. Right here." Maeleyn held her hand out and Jezebelle bumped it with her tail for the time being. Raph gave her a flat look.
"Wow you toss me out fast…" he muttered amusedly. She batted her eyes at him.
"But you know I love you!"
"I don't see how…he smells atrocious." Leo bit his lip. Wow. All that fear and paranoia seemed gone. She seemed…normal. Happy. It was actually kind of funny to hear his brother being burned by a cat woman. She was so nonchalant about it.
"You're ridiculous. He smells manly," Maeleyn corrected, patting Raphael's arm. He flushed a little, Mikey's prolonged 'awww!' not helping.
"Whatever you say." Jezebelle rolled her eyes as Leo stepped side ways to get her through the doorway to Donnie's lab. The genius was turning on the machine he'd made four months ago. More or less it was a memory formulator that could double as an extractor; it was made to help them cope with any residual nightmares concerning Rilien dying in the Foot headquarters, or anything prior to that nasty day. So far it worked like a dream; the unnamed machine had the ability to monitor the stimulated neurons when the user focused and tap into the 'dreaming' part of the brain to archive the dream as a video he could go back and research later (for behavioral diagnosis and for reflection of the person who made it). If her memories had finally broken through, or if she let them, maybe they could pinpoint who this 'boss' was and really hit them where it hurts!
Or kill them, whichever was most effective. Don felt a little uneasy about murdering because of his pacifist nature but he saw this as a very effective means to end this. He knew Leo was thinking about it; he could tell by the change in his dear brother's eyes…they were much darker now. Leonardo thought harder, polished his katanas a little slower as he drew those thoughts of unjust actions together, trying to fish out the culprit in his head. Whoever had done this to Jezebelle had made a grave mistake right off the bat…
Leonardo had very few but very touchy subjects, one of them was family (as seen in the way he fussed over them when a bandage was required or a stitching needed). They'd forced this girl—no, this woman, she was at least twenty by Maeleyn's claim—to bear a child, and separated her from it just to kill her because they didn't need her. That child needed her, and Donnie could tell Leo thought about the little boy; what person wouldn't think of the allegedly now-orphaned child when its mother was staying in their home? It gnawed angrily on his honor like a starving dog on a bone, and Donnie could see the shadows play across his face when the candle lit, drawing him back to a time when Leo had gone berserker and sought out the Ancient One for further training when shame and rage threatened to overtake him. Long ago he learned to turn that burning shame into motivation for training, learned to cope with things he couldn't control, but that didn't mean he didn't think about them.
This happened to be one of those things. Leo couldn't control that she'd had a child, or that she had even been kidnapped in the first place but he could do something about it now. Usually when Leo's 'touchy subjects' were touched something did happen to resolve the matter, and it resolved it permanently. Don shook his head, trying not to think of his elder brother having any more capability than he already did to kill. He liked to think of him as nice and quiet, like he already was, but there was always latent possibility; he could never forget that. Leonardo finally unwound Jezebelle from his neck and she stretched her limbs, popping them, needing something—anything—to do to reverse the intense uneasiness she felt being in a lab.
Just the word gave her reason to fear. Her fur was a grand standing needle show, raised up and prominent by unseen magnetism. After all the cracking was done she began to purr, kneading the edge of Donnie's table uncertainly as he motioned for her to hold her chin up, strapping on the helmet, brushing her ears to the side so they wouldn't get pinched."It's not going to electrocute you," he promised her; "all it does it record your memories and let me archive them. It'll let me watch them, too, like a video. I'm thinking it'll help you remember the stuff you're blocking out." she looked up at the machine on her head and swallowed. It looked like some souped up bicycle helmet. "Then we can catch the person that did this, and keep them from doing it to anyone else…" he promised, hoping that would ease her a bit.
"Now you're going to hear a whirring noise but it's just the machine starting up." Donnie looked towards the screen, hope bloating him. Why wasn't anything showing up? He checked the machine and monitor quickly to make sure it was on. "It…it's on. Please, think something."
"I…I…" Jezebelle clutched the table hard. She felt lightheaded. Now that she was trying to think of something all of the fears, the thoughts, seemed to run away. To Jezebelle the fear, the emotions of the many varying memories could be felt but she, herself, felt too scared to think back to what caused them. It would be too real, then, she'd have to watch it and hear it all over again.
"Jezebelle…it's okay. It's okay to think about those nightmares now. They can't get you, they'll just be recorded. I really do think this will help you cope with everything." Donnie eased, rubbing her arm, trying to get her to relax. The cat mutant's breath was deep and fast, her chest fluttering like a live-beating heart.
"I…I can't. I…" she kneaded the edge of the table again. Why? Why couldn't she? Where to start? God she didn't want to hear that voice again!
"What is such cause for this collection in your lab, Donatello? I was wondering why the lair was quiet." Splinter hobbled in curiously, looking at the family in the lab. The young girl…cat…on the table stared back at him with widening pupils, watching him, waiting to clock every individual motion, remembering it. He refused to let petty animal nature convince his body to show signs of startle; he was a wise mutated rat, and his sons were here to enforce protection. She lowered her body on the table, claws draped tightly over the edge of Donatello's work table and Splinter twitched his whiskers, waiting for her to lunge at him like he expected. That explained the odd smell he'd been noticing around the lair, and Donatello had told him it would be in his best interest (politely enough) to wait until the new guest was settled.
Now he could see why. She was scared, the rat master could see, and it made sense with what Donatello had told him about them finding her. Who wouldn't be scared and want to attack every new face when they'd been thrown off a dock, left to drown? Raphael and Leo instantly grabbed her out-pointed claws as she showed them, long and sharp and separate from her fur; they gleamed in the light. His two eldest sons held her to the table and she shook her head like she was being shocked; twitching, jerking. Fighting her impulses? Splinter wondered curiously, stepping closer into the room which increased the strength of the odd behavior.
"Mikey come help us holder, just in case."
"No, Mikey, don't!" Don held out his hands to stop the little brother.
"Whaddya mean 'don't!' Donnie? She might try to fillet Splinter!"
"She's having a flashback Raph; she's not trying to hurt him! Look at her eyes, they're closed now, aren't they?" curiously, cautiously, the second-eldest peeked down. He didn't want to get scratched in the face! Her eyelids were indeed clapped down over her yellow eyes and he pulled back, giving a slight nod to his brainy brother. Behind her the machine whirred and struggled to find the image frequency for her. Finally, it found it.
A white lab rat skittered just in front of the watching eyes on the large, smooth cream-colored table. "No, don't kill it!" the pale-vanilla hand and the little rat just avoided the wooden mallet and the resounding crack of the wood against the table made them flinch due to the clarity of the sound. Jezebelle flinched against Donnie's lab table, jerking her head back, trying to back away from the sharp sound. It hurt her ears, it hurt! "Meow…meow…meow!" she didn't like this.
He said it wouldn't hurt her! But she could remember it so clearly! It did hurt, it did hurt! She couldn't say anything though, the boss was there. The boss wouldn't listen, anyways.
"Ugh, your predatory skills are lacking…and to think I reengineered you to be perfect. To be one of them, to have the killing instincts! You're so disappointing!" the male voice growled. For a second the eyes (they were seeing through her eyes, after all) tried to look up and identify the boss but the eyes were forced to look down again, sharply, indicating someone was behind her to make sure she did as she was told.
"Ow!" the rat crawled uncertainly around the table again, the wooden mallet out of the picture.
"Kill it!"
"No, it's a living creature! It didn't do anything to you!"
"I said kill it!"
"I said no!"
"Give me your hand, stupid bitch! I'll teach you to disobey me! Remember what he told you? Let me show you what happens to "bad pussy"." a steel hand shot out and grabbed her hand from across the table, the joints glinting nicely in the lights. A finely crafted hand, she could see her face in it, and it wasn't thin or bony. Thick, strong. The mallet struck again, the usual crack of an echo muffled by bones and newly turned flesh. It hit again, and again, and again.
"REOW! REOW! REOW! Rrrrr!" the pale hand was turning red, bruising, swelling. Jezebelle tried to jerk her hand away, refusing to open her eyes. If she did she'd see the lab table, and the little white rat freaking out, and the metal hand around hers! Her hand pulsed in pain, the echoes of the mallet on her right hand causing a reawakened pain to bloat the hand, send it tingling, and coaxing tears from her eyes. It hurt!
The mallet sound kept replaying. Over and over! She began to breathe through her clenched teeth and jaw as best she could, her vocal chords vibrating with muffled yowls of pain. Endure, endure, you can do this! Jezebelle thought. She felt light headed…whether it was from the pain or the breathing she couldn't discern.
It almost felt like her heart stopped. Jezebelle quit breathing, finally finding detachment from the noises, the sensation of pain, as she rolled to her side. The image fizzled out with a loud, electrical zap. She'd stopped thinking, possibly unconscious. "Donnie," Mikey asked, kind of worried because both of his older brothers were now trying to wake her up, to see why her head had lolled over the edge of the lab table.
She was so still.
"Donnie…why isn't she moving?"
"Relax, Mikey, I think she just had a fear-induced blackout."
"What?" Leo breathed at him, voice barely above a whisper, obviously angry as he and Raphael finally worked the helmet off of her chin and set her head back on the work table with the rest of her. "You mean from shock because she relived an experience?" he asked rhetorically, sarcastically, with his arms folded across his plastron. This was a bad idea, he knew it! She wasn't ready!
"I didn't know she was going to pass out!"
"Gee, when she tells you she doesn't think she can do this and you con her into doing it anyways I expect bad results. C'mon, Donnie, use your head here, bro!"
"Excuse me, Leonardo, I didn't con her. If she didn't want to do it she wouldn't have focused. Obviously she trusts us—me—enough to try. It's better she gets these memories out anyways, or they'll torment her a lot more than if she keeps them inside!" Donatello countered, glaring at him. It was one thing to question his work but another to question him entirely. The fact Leonardo used the word "con" didn't help, either. Don didn't dare listen to the voice that said 'I can see why he's worried, he'd do the same for us if it was us on the table instead of her' because his resistance would crumble.
He wasn't about to be blamed for this, he was trying to help! Leo had no right to paint him a guiltless tyrant!
"No more of this until she's better. Until she says so, Don, end of story." Leo lifted her from the table, marching away to lay her on the couch. She needed rest, needed a place without fear. That's why they were a home, a refuge, and he wasn't about to let Donatello spoil that idea. Sure Donnie was only trying to help but it's not help if it makes the refugee pass out. Leo scowled at his little brother, sensing the pissy little brother glare and tucked her into the couch. Donnie could be as pissy, pouty and wounded as he liked; he wasn't going to bend on this.
That was his belief, and he'd stand by it. This was her nightmare; she needed to deal with it on her time. The evil glare was maintained as Leo grabbed a candle, lit it, and finally disappeared into the dojo. As soon as he lit the candle he could feel a seed of guilt in him; he could see his brother's reason for coaxing those memories forth. Leo wanted to catch the enemy as soon as any of them, but if it was at her expense—a mother who'd lost a child, lost herself, lost her family—speed shouldn't be the main priority.
She should be.
Jasmine fusing with sandalwood escaped into his nostrils and he sighed, relaxing his shoulders. He could already see this not ending well. Despite what was an inevitably growing web made by the enemy (enemies might be more correct, he thought) Leo knew his hardest trial to overcome, the toughest enemy—as in the training with the Ancient One—would be himself. Leo frowned, gradually getting lost to the astral plane with the aid of the scents, and remembered his last line of thoughts before he finally broke the astral plane, leaving all physical sensations behind. The Art of War can't really help me now, can it? How does one have war with themselves? Who wins?