A/N: Thanks to StillThunder86 for being a brilliant beta.

CHAPTER THREE
Control

Leonardo blinked in the white room. The light seemed gentle now, but surely it had been hurting his eyes only a minute ago? Had he been ill, he wondered. He felt as though he had. He head was pounding, his arm hurt and he felt as though his insides had been stirred up with a spoon.

He looked across to where he thought he'd seen Michelangelo earlier. He had a mental image of Mikey attacking him, but dismissed it as a fever dream. There's no way his gentle, fun-loving brother could really be the black-eyed monster from his nightmare. In the dream, he'd fought back savagely. There'd been none of his normal control, no ninjitsu finesse, just raw brutality. He frowned, and wondered how sick he'd been to have crazy dreams like that. It was a bit disturbing how vivid they'd seemed at the time, and how clearly he remembered them now. But there was Mikey, same as ever, sitting on the edge of a table and pestering Don about something. Mikey turned and smiled, a little tightly, when he saw Leo was awake. Leonardo's eyes opened wide in horror – there was a soft dressing over his little brother's temple, held in place with a bandage around his head. Leo remembered landing a blow on the Mikey in his dream, in exactly the same place. He felt sick. Had he, in his fever, acted out his dream and really attacked his youngest brother?

Donatello saw the look on Leonardo's face, and knew that he must have remembered something from the fight. He hurried over to reassure him.

"It's OK, Leo, it's over. It was Bishop, he drugged you both to make you fight. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault, Leo. You have to believe that." Don spoke with as much authority as he could muster, no easy task for the turtle who had always preferred to take the back seat in family arguments. He wasn't used to making people listen to him, in fact, quite the reverse. But it was vital that he get through to their leader at once. Raph was in who knew what sort of danger, and they didn't have time for Leo to go on a guilt trip.

"We need you, Leo," Don said, emphasising the 'need' strongly. "It's Bishop. He's got Raph."

"He's got all of us, bro," Mikey pointed out, his blue eyes clouding dark for a moment and an uncharacteristic bitterness tingeing his voice. "That was a sweet ambush he set up."

"So glad you approve," said Bishop. He appeared at a window in their door, speaking to them through a microphone. "I admit, I was rather proud of it myself. So satisfying when everything goes to plan, don't you agree, Leonardo? You're the planner of this little team, aren't you? Well, don't make any plans for escaping. As your brother has told you, Raphael is helping me with my experiments. If you give me any trouble, he will pay for it."

"Where's Raph?" Leo demanded, furiously. "What have you done with him?"

"I should point out that 'trouble' includes bad manners, Leonardo," Bishop observed. "I'll overlook it, this time, but be warned. Your brother is alive and well. Would you like to see him?"

"Well, duh!" Mikey snapped. "Where is he?" When Bishop didn't respond, Don said, more quietly,

"We would like to see our brother, yes." This only earned him a contemptuous smile.

"Ah? Manners?" Bishop prompted.

Leo bit down hard on the angry retorts that were springing to his lips. This man held all the cards right now, and there was nothing to be gained by antagonising him. With a quiet dignity, Leonardo stood tall in front of the window and looked Bishop in the eye.

"Would you please be so good as to let us see Raphael?" he asked, his voice nearly as calm as Bishop's own; his face as expressionless.

"Better," the scientist acknowledged. "Very well." And with his remote control, he activated a panel in the wall which slid back to reveal monitor.

"Your brother is sleeping, now. However, this was recorded only an hour ago. As you can see, he's doing quite well."

The three turtles watched in horrified fascination as some kind of wild animal lunged for their brother's throat.

-TMNT-

Raphael ducked at the last moment, bringing his forearm up in a horizontal block that hit the attacking creature in the throat. Mack's own momentum added to the force of the blow, and Raph heard the wind being knocked from his opponent's lungs. He stepped back, assessing the situation. He figured that having been winded, Mack would need a minute to recover, and Raph could use that time to his advantage. However, as soon as the animal's feet hit the ground, it sprang back up, ready to attack again.

Mack stayed low this time, focusing on Raphael's legs and feet; trying to find a good target while avoiding a kick. Raphael wished, yet again, for his sais. With Mack's pounce-attack style, it would be simple enough to hold him off, letting his opponent wear himself out while Raphael conserved his energy. However, without weapons, he couldn't be so confident of blocking all Mack's attacks. He would have to go on the offensive, and try to get the creature to back down.

Mack was the size of a large dog, and probably weighed about the same as Raphael himself. However, Mack had all his power in his hindquarters and attacked forward, while the ninja turtle could use his height to attack downwards. Raph allowed himself a small smile. It wasn't often he had the height advantage in a fight. He circled around his foe, trying to get behind or beside him. If he could wrestle the animal from behind, it would be harder for Mack to use his teeth or claws. Raph timed his move carefully, and struck, wrapping strong arms around Mack's throat, chest and forelegs and pinning him to the ground. He half-expected Bishop to call the fight to an end. After all, so long as he could maintain this hold, the creature was more-or-less helpless, right?

Wrong, Raph discovered, and fast. He gaped in shock as Mack's shoulders moved under his grip. The creature seemed to melt and re-form as he held it, going from a dog-like form to a more upright stance. Now, it was taking all its own weight, and much of Raphael's, too, to its back legs, and pushing the turtles arms out and away with what felt like hands. As Mack turned his head, Raphael could swear that the face had changed, the previously long muzzle now shortened. The creature brought this new, shorter muzzle around to Raphael's shoulder, and bit down, causing the turtle's grip on Mack's forelegs to falter. He twisted around in the turtle's grip, standing almost nose-to-nose with him, and braced his hands – yes, they were definitely hands now – against Raphael's plastron.

Caught off-guard by these bizarre transformations, Raphael let go completely and backed away, trying to make sense of what he had just seen. Mack now looked less like a large dog, and more like a gorilla, his weight forward still but no longer moving like a four-legged animal. A word from Mikey's cheesy horror movies flashed into his head: werewolf!

But that was ridiculous. There were no such things as werewolves, everyone knew that. He tried to ignore the treacherous voice in the back of his head that said that 'everyone knew' there were no such things as mutant turtles, either. Or mutant rats, or giant alligators. Or aliens, for that matter. In his world, it probably wasn't smart put too much faith in what "everyone knew".

In his mind, he found himself frantically reviewing his knowledge of horror films. How did you kill a werewolf? He thought that maybe silver came into it somewhere, but that didn't really help him right now. Why couldn't it have been a vampire? he thought. Horror stories are full of ways to kill vampires! Why don't they tell you what to do if you're facing down a werewolf in a mad scientist's lab? He silently cursed all horror writers and their lamentable lack of foresight. And then he had to stop wondering what to do next, because Mack decided it for him.

The werewolf... creature... thing lunged at Raphael with a clumsy punch, which the turtle dodged easily, then countered with a spinning kick. It should have been a classic move, Mack's punch had brought his head in range of Raph's foot, and the kick should have landed on the side of the creature's face, forcing it to turn and face away from the next attack. Now that Mack was moving on two feet, this was more familiar ground. He'd done plenty of un-armed sparring with his brothers in the dojo; this would be no different.

Except that his brothers didn't normally use their teeth. As Raphael's foot snapped out, Mack pulled his face back to allow the kick to go past, then closed his teeth on the soft flesh of the ankle. The turtle actually cried out in pain and surprise, only just managing to keep his balance as Mack pulled at his leg. Raph seized the fur around the werewolf's ears and tried to force him to open his jaws, to no avail. The pair twisted around each other like the most peculiar entrants ever for "Come Dancing", while Bishop assiduously took notes.

Suddenly, Raphael changed tactics. Throwing himself down onto his shell, he brought his good foot up alongside his trapped one, and kicked Mack hard in the side of the head. Raph smiled with grim satisfaction when he saw that he'd placed the blow exactly right. Mack was dazed, and released his hold on Raphael's ankle.

As they both stood up again, Mack made one last lunge at Raphael. The turtle was ready for him, though. Leaning to one side, taking his weight on his good leg, he allowed the momentum of Mack's attack to once again pass by him, then he reached forward, took hold of the werewolf's arm and neatly pivoted him into the bars that stood between the fighting prisoners and their analytical jailer. Bishop didn't even blink as Mack's body came flying towards him and, as Raph expected, a jolt of electricity caught the creature a stinging blow as it came too near. Mack lay on the ground, out for the count. Raph could see blood on his temple from the kick he'd received there, and he could smell the singed fur where the electric shock had caught his shoulder.

He eyed the animal warily, but without malice. It wasn't Mack's fault they'd had to fight, any more than Leo and Mikey were to blame for their fight earlier. His thoughts went to his brothers, and he hoped they were being treated well. He glanced back to the bundle of fur at his feet, then looked at Bishop.

"We're done," he informed the scientist. "I won. Now will you let us go?"

Bishop actually laughed.

"Done? Raphael, you will find that we are very far from 'done'. I did say, this was your first test, remember?"

Raphael frowned. "Yeah, OK. So, how many of these 'tests' I gotta do?"

"As many as I say, Raphael. Unless, of course, you want your brothers to take your place?"

Raphael didn't reply, and Bishop turned off the recording as Leo, Don and Mikey were looking at their hot-headed brother's scowling face.

-TMNT-

Bishop looked at the three of them, so angry and so powerless.

"The irony is, I know you're all willing to take his place at a moment's notice. It's Raphael himself who wouldn't let you do it. Quite touching, in a pathetic sort of way."

Michelangelo growled, deep in his throat, and Don threw him a worried glance. As it turned out, he should have been watching his older brother.

Whether it was the stress of the day, a residual effect of the serum, or just sheer rage at their helpless situation, something inside Leonardo snapped. Bishop's smug expression didn't flicker; as the window cover slid closed, Leo threw himself at the door, howling with rage.