Author's Note

(1) I DO NOT own Ninja Turtles

All I knew when I recovered was I not free. I had no recollection of how I had got here, but I was sure I had not volunteered for whatever it was that had happened to me. The last thing I could remember was someone snatching me from behind in an alley in the early morning.

Apart from that, my mind was a blank.

I raised my head slowly, groaning softly as a wave of dizziness hit me like a tsunami. I was lying on my front, in a room that boasted a right mix of machinery. The sight of some machines woke slight but vague memories –I was sure I had seen some of it scaled down in a classroom, but I couldn't be positive. Some had obvious uses –a table with metal bindings, a tray of lethal-looking silver instruments; others I could never place.

What was going on? Even though I could remember nothing specific, I was sure I had a family above the ground, a family who must be worried about me. My last true memory was of daylight before being dragged into the sewer system by unknown assailants.

As I raised myself to my knees, I saw I was in a glass cage. It was a large enclosure, but still a prison. Some deep unease crept through me, some instinct that told me I didn't like being imprisoned. I tapped at the glass lightly, and it seemed to more plastic than normal glass.

There was a tap on the glass, and I looked round to see who was getting my attention. I felt my jaw drop in surprise. Next to me was a boy who looked a few years older than I was, but he was not quite human. His skin seemed to be made up of scales, like those you find on a snake. His eyes were an almost unnatural green sheen, and his pupils seemed to be closer to slits. Something had happened to him and, although my memory was lacking, I had a name for it –genetic engineering, but on a scale that had never been tried before. Whoever was behind this was operating below the law, with no regard for human moralities.

Then it hit me: I had to be altered as well if I was here. But what was different about me? I checked my arms and face –normal pale smooth skin, as far as I could tell. No claws instead of fingernails.

When I glanced over my shoulder, I found the answer right in front of me. Growing out my spine, from the shoulder blades all the way down to the lower back, were huge wings. As I moved my shoulder, I opened my wings to a huge wingspan. I couldn't believe it –I could pass as an angel. With seeing my alteration came a sense of understanding –I felt confined because birds are supposed to be free to fly through the sky, not stuck in a cage –but also a sense of resentment towards whoever it was who had taken me from the light of day and stuck me in a cage.

As I was coming to terms with my wings and realising I was a mutant that had never been seen before, a man stepped in front of the glass. He wore a lab coat, and it didn't take a lot for me to work out that he was responsible for taking me prisoner and mutating me. He had done this to me, and presumably to the boy as well.

I kept my eyes on him, but failed to see the door into my cage open. Two men clad in lab coats and looking capable of great violence advanced on me, brandishing electronic stun-guns until I turned my attention to their weapons.

There was a presumably a speaker system built into my cage, because the voice of the man who I had identified as the cause of my imprisonment boomed through the area (really hurting my ear drums at the same time).

"As you will see, my assistants are both carrying stun-guns that they will use on you in a moment if they detect trouble coming from you. I am Professor Adkins, your creator. I took you from the streets and made you a godly creation.

"Now, before I let you out of that cage, there are rules that will be enforced via stun-guns if you step over the line. There are tests which require some flight, but all flying will be done in one of my specially equipped rooms. During your spells of freedom, you will obey my every word to the letter. As soon as we're finished, it's straight back into the cage. You can fly as much as you like in your own enclosure provided you are on the ground when I or my assistants enter. In other experiments, you are to keep both feet on the ground. To enforce that, you are required to wear a special harness that constricts your wings. If you try to resist, remember these speakers are also set to emit white noise that will greatly upset your advanced hearing.

"I have taken the liberty of creating an identity for you that well suits you. From now on, you are Takara. As you see, you are not the only creation I have here. The boy is known as Tzu, and I would warn you against getting on bad terms with him, particularly as he has the DNA of a cobra in him."

I couldn't believe it. Now I knew where I stood, a successful experiment alongside a boy who had snake instincts as I had bird wings. But just how alike to a snake was Tzu? Only time would tell.

The two assistants were approaching me, carrying a metal contraption that undid like a suit of armour. It must be the constrict Adkins had been talking about using to prevent me even trying to fly. My bird instincts kicked in, ready to display disgust, but I remembered the stun-guns and the emitting of white noise that Adkins had threatened me with. I could see him standing two feet away, and a remote was in his hand with his hand hovering over a single red button. It didn't take a genius to work out that the second he pressed that button I would receive an earful of white noise. With that in mind, I fought my urge to flare out my wings as the assistants put the device around my torso and fastened it.

When it was on, it was apparent it had been tested well to ensure I wouldn't be able to even think of escaping. The assistants pointed me out of the cage and into a chair beside a tray of scalpels and other things you might expect in a doctor's surgery. Adkins came and stood over me.

"It's nothing taxing today, Takara," he said almost soothingly. "All I want to do is monitor your health and check your human and avian cells are combining together probably."

It was actually more taxing than Adkins thought for me. It wasn't that I had never seen needles before, or had never had my eyes tested, but this time I was aware of everything screaming in me to run and try and find a way to daylight and fresh air. But I knew that those stun-guns were ready to deliver a dose of pain if I tried to escape. Adkins had made my position very clear: I was his experiment, and I had no choice but to go through the experiments he had lined up for me. If I tried to fight, he would force me into submission.