Alright, guys. Here we go. Just a few more until it's all over. But don't worry. It won't be done THAT soon. Not as much action happens in this chapter as they did in the others, but it's not boring by any means. That said, I hope you enjoy it.

A very, very special thanks to my darling betas, Colonel Pop and GoodSmileGirl.

I don't own TMNT, so if you sue me, I can just show this disclaimer and your case will fall apart. So there.

Chapter Twenty Two

So I began this story with saying I was trapped in a cell while shouting at the people who put me there. I found myself in the cell when I woke up after being struck unconscious. Thankfully, I didn't have a headache from the blow, and I seemed unharmed in all other ways.

The first thing I noticed was that I had been placed in a small but fairly comfortable cot in a room with stone walls and no windows. There was an open door that led to a small bathroom that had a shower, a toilet, and a sink in it, but other than the cot the only other pieces of furniture in the room were a small bedside table on which sat my pink glasses and a dresser that I would later learn had my clothes in it. I figured they must have salvaged them from my apartment before they firebombed it to smithereens.

Other than that, there was a light switch by the door which I assumed led out of my cell. It was made out of heavy metal, and even as I stood up to go beat it and demand to be let out, I knew that it would be easy to ignore me since the likelihood of being heard was very small.

I was frustrated, angry, emotionally wrought, and I pounded at the door with my fists until my hands were scratched and bleeding slightly. I didn't cry, didn't allow myself to. I had no idea what time it was, and had no way of knowing when I'd be taken out, or what for. The only thing I could do was wait. And I hated waiting. I spent a few minutes wandering about my cell (it was a cell, not a room; a room would imply that I wasn't a prisoner, which I was) to see if I could find any sort of camera, but luckily, I didn't. I searched under my bed, in every drawer, even in the shower, but I didn't find anything.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably just twenty minutes, I decided to just try to take a nap. But as I laid down on the small cot once more, I found myself swarmed by increasingly depressing thoughts on my ultimate fate.

What was I doing there anyway? Ken said that he wanted me to open that damn box for him, but so far I hadn't seen any sign of being taken out of my room for anything. However, being positive and thinking about the different scenarios that would get me out of here kept me from going crazy. It was entirely possible that I had just signed my life and freedom away forever to Ken and whatever twisted plan he had and that I would never see the light of day again, and despite my hardest efforts to keep from doing so, I couldn't help but wonder what was going out in the real world.

My family would be upset and troubled over my disappearance, but unlikely to think on it overmuch. Most of my relatives had long since decided to keep our relationship strained at best in case they needed a clean break, and my own nuclear family were the ones I was still closest too, if you could call it that. My sister and brother would probably be the most upset about it.

The other librarians might be concerned, but since we no longer worked together, they probably wouldn't think much of it. I had a few other friends littered about New York, but none of them were close enough to me to really feel absolutely crushed if I disappeared. Some of them would probably think I was off in Hawaii taking an impromptu vacation due to stress or something.

Only Casey and April would really know what had happened to me. I realized, with a gut-wrenching twist, that even if I did get out of my current situation (which I admitted to myself was unlikely), they'd probably hate me for doing what I'd done. Making deals with arch-enemies? Lying about it? Possibly getting them killed on multiple occasions and unwittingly leading the enemy right to them? Those were big no-no's.

And then, of course, I started thinking about the turtles and Master Splinter. Were they safe? Were they injured? Did Ken keep his promise and not kill them. I groaned and shoved a pillow over my face. Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think-

The door to my cell burst open. I sat up as two large, muscled men came in and grabbed my arms, yanking me off the bed. I tried to jerk back, but one of them squeezed my arm to the point where I was gasping in pain. The next time he pulled me forwards, I didn't fight back. I was led out of my room which opened up into a long hallway full of similar metal doors, although mine had the most locks on it, and was drug down the hallway into another one which was whitewashed. We took several turns through similar corridors filled with doors of less security than the one I had been in and then finally we arrived at our destination.

I was pushed through a pair of large double doors into a circular room with a desk, a chair, and an overhead light. On the desk sat the Box, and it made me want to gag just looking at it. It was the wall that had my attention. Pieced together from a large number of pictures was a replica of the painting that I had used to open up the Box as much as I had. I recognized some of the pictures as ones I had taken with my cell phone and realized that they had my purse; they had access to all my stuff, so of course my phone would be included in that. I did a face palm and groaned.

My obvious emotional problems did little to create sympathy with the gorilla guys who had so kindly guided me to the room. One of them shoved me in the shoulder, pushing me forward towards the desk, and I had to grab the edge of it to keep from falling down.

"Now, now, that is no way to treat our guest." I looked up to see my true captor and one-time crush (I decided to plead temporary insanity to this in my mind) waltz in. Ken was wearing a white suit and a confidant smirk that I wanted to wipe off with the aid of my chair. He looked very well put together and in an excellent mood, caused by what I could only assume was the current situation. "Hello, Irma," he said pleasantly.

"Hi, jerkoff," I responded uncharitably.

"I suppose your frustration is understandable given the situation," he said calmly walking towards me. "But I warn you," his voice getting considerably lower and less friendly, "that you should watch your tongue. Just because I like you doesn't mean I have any problem with having my two friends here rough you up. All you need to open this thing with are your hands. That leaves a lot of other parts of you that can still feel pain." I bit back a whimper. He went back to smiling pleasantly. "I see you understand."

He began to walk around the room, talking idly like I was a student in detention and he was explaining the rules to me. "I have no intention of hurting you unless you give me a reason to. You have all the clothes you need for your stay here, and if you behave well and make good progress, I'd be more than happy to give you things to amuse yourself with like books and perhaps a TV. However, if you do not make me happy, I'll stick you in an even smaller room-"

"Cell," I interrupted.

"Strike one," he warned, raising a finger. After a second he continued. "I'll stick you in an even smaller and considerably more uncomfortable room. Your meals will be brought to you three times a day, all in this room to encourage productivity, and if you refuse to come or don't work, I'll revoke your food privileges for a day."

Deciding I didn't want another strike, I raised my hand. "Yes?" he said.

"What if I need to go to the restroom?"

"One of the gentlemen watching you will escort you there. If you take too long they'll drag you out forcibly whether you're decent or not."

"How long is too long?"

He shrugged. "I'd say more than five minutes unless it's an emergency."

"What constitutes as an emergency?"

"Having your nose bashed in for being annoying, which is about to happen to you in five seconds if you don't shut up." I wisely decided not to ask anything else. He continued. "If you make progress in a timely manner and succeed in your ultimate goal, which is to open that box, I will let you go free with enough money to help you start over with a new life in a very, very far away place."

"You won't let me go back?" I asked quietly, trying to ignore how pathetic I sounded.

Ken burst out laughing. "Honey, what in the hell have you got to go back to? Your friends probably hate your guts, and I know for a fact your little green boyfriend does."

I said nothing but stared down at the floor. The man in the white suit shrugged and walked over to me. "Take my advice, sweetie. Work hard, get out, and forget about New York. You'll never step foot back there as long as I live." He leaned forward and said softly in my ear, "And I intend to live for a very long time."

I tried fighting back once, ignoring Ken's warning about not trying to. I tried to sit there at the desk and not work, studiously disregarding everything that the Gorilla Guys were saying to me, until one of them punched me in the face. I went flying backwards onto the floor, stars appearing behind my eyelids, and I could faintly hear the other one shouting about how he almost wreaked my glasses. Then he pulled me up roughly and set me back down in the chair, warning me to get to work, or next time he'd let his partner go even farther. I couldn't feel the left side of my face as I shakily set to work again.

I didn't know how long I was there; days were counted by the hours I was awake, not by any timepiece or calendar. I wasn't allowed to have one either, and no one gave me a hint as to what the date or time was. I was constantly guarded, except when I was in my room, but no one spoke to me. Sometimes Ken would come in and gloat, subtly mocking me and everything I had done. He shouldn't have bothered. I already knew all my previous actions had been for nothing, and I felt listless and uninterested in everything. I became something of a zombie over time, and I zoned out everything else except the activities I was engaged in. After a while, Ken would get bored and leave and the Gorilla Guys would start bringing a pack of cards to play.

One day while I was working, Ken came in and sent the two guards away. They gladly left the room, talking about what they should grab from the kitchens for lunch as they went.

As I had made a habit of doing, I didn't look up as he entered the room, nor as the two giants left. I could hear Ken slowly walk around the circular chamber, but I was focusing on the box in front of me. Turn left panel of the willow tree a quarter to the right, slide sideways to that the crane is flying towards it, take the plain panel and-

"So I've noticed you becoming a walking robot in the last couple of weeks," Ken remarked casually over my left shoulder. My world ground to a halt. A couple of weeks? How long had I been here? It had to have been longer than that… "I feel that I've been a bit remiss in taking care of you. I haven't paid as much attention to you as I should have." He waited for me to say something, but I remained silent. I had stopped working, however, so he knew that I was listening. "I've been thinking about ways to wake you up, so to speak. I've sent books to your room, but I know you haven't looked at those. I doubt you'd be interested in a movie. Obviously I can't give you a phone. I considered moving you to a larger room, but I don't think you'd care about that too much. But then I considered that maybe you'd like it more if you weren't alone."

I did NOT like where he was taking this conversation. I braced myself and slowly looked over at him, suspicion written clearly on my face. He was wearing a black suit today, a sleek red tie and shiny shoes. He looked like he was about to go into a business meeting. Maybe he was. I had no idea. He looked down at me and I stared back up into his face. He didn't look like he had changed much. The man was obviously gearing up to propose something; his face was devoid of any mocking or superior expression. It seemed for all the world as though he was actually going to suggest something that would help me. But I knew him too well to trust him. I thought I had prepared myself for whatever he was going to say, knew all his tricks and what he'd say. But I was wrong.

"Look, babe, I knew we've had a rough patch… so to speak… but I think you'd get through this much easier if you just tried to look at the upside."

"What upside?" I rasped, my voice hoarse from disuse.

He flashed me the same brilliant smile that he'd had the first time we'd met, back when I thought he was charming and sweet. "Well, sweetheart, it's not like I'm being subtle here. We've already seen each other naked. Why don't you just admit that you can't go back and go forward with me? Make the best of your situation." He leaned down towards my ear and whispered softly, "I seem to recall a certain night when you enjoyed your time with me quite a lot. How about we do a repeat and you just come join me in my room? I could show you a much better time than that turtle thing you had."

Images of Donatello suddenly flooded my mind, and of all the wonderful things he had done, and all the times he had been there for me when I needed him. How dare this man call him a thing? How dare he insult a person who was so much better than he was in so many ways, in countless ways? A deep well of rage seemed to burst forth inside of me, and all of the pain and heartache and misery and loneliness of the past few weeks exploded inside of me. How dare this insidious, lying, son of a bitch proposition me after all he had done and all he had destroyed!

I don't remember anything except my world going black. I was vaguely aware of jumping up, of my fist connecting with something hard. My eyesight didn't clear until I was forcibly yanked back, and suddenly I was being thrown across the room. Ken was slumped against the wall on the far side of the room, his face bleeding from what looked like claw marks, a huge, deep bruise forming on one side of his face. He had teeth marks on one side of his neck and I looked down at my hands to see that I had blood on my nails. I was slightly unsettled; I was more surprised that I had done such a thing. But my mind was distracted when one of the Gorilla Guys grabbed me and lifted me up by the neck of my shirt. He drew his fist back and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain that would follow.

I had a hard time moving around much after the beating I received. It hurt to breathe and chew, and I walked with a limp for a week. Ken hadn't stopped his underling from attacking me; he had encouraged it. He was furious over my rejection, and shamed over the attack I had let loose on him. Despite the fact that I was in serious pain, however, I inwardly rejoiced at the knowledge that I had hurt him, even if it was only a fraction of the damage that he had caused me.

The progress on the box still continued, despite my injuries. I believe that was the only reason why he didn't kill me right there. Although he could have gotten another person to open the box, I was the only one who could do it that fast. I had a keen eye and quick hands (when my fingers weren't broken), and it made a huge difference when the smallest detail could move the most panels on the metal surface. As time went on, however, I realized that when I opened it now, I would probably be killed. I still had no idea what was inside either. That terrified me.

No matter what Ken said, I was certain he wouldn't let me go when I was finally done. If I had accepted his 'offer', he would have used me as a lover and let me slack off and perhaps even let me leave whatever compound I was in to do things with him, but when I was done I was almost completely sure he'd have me killed anyway, unless he was planning on using me as a sex slave the rest of my life. Now he would just shoot me dead.

With this in mind, my plight became a good deal more desperate. It got to the point where whenever someone wasn't looking I would move panels in an opposite way than I was supposed to. This delayed the Grand Opening, as I liked to call it, but I knew that I was only buying some time. Eventually Ken would get this thing open, with or without me. If I took too long, he'd get frustrated and get rid of me anyway. I had only so many cards to play and I had to play them right, or I was doomed. So I delayed when I could and worked slowly at other times, but day by day, the box's secrets were being revealed. I could only pray that I'd think of something, of some escape plan, before it was too late and Ken got whatever he wanted inside. There was no hero coming to save me this time; the only way out was to use my wits, and despite my constant insistence that my pink glasses made me look as though I was more nerdy than intelligent, I felt I had enough of a brain to get some brilliant Idea. I just hoped I'd get one soon enough to not be shot.

Well, this chapter is going to be the last of the Short Chapters in this story. I seriously doubt that any of the next few chapters, barring of course the Epilogue, will be anything shorter than 10 pages. There's just so much that has to happen.

Despite the brevity of this particular chapter, I hope you enjoyed it just the same. I tried to keep it interesting and fun to read, and hopefully I succeeded. Reviews are a great way of letting the author know how things are going, and if you feel the need, please don't hesitate to give me an opinion (provided its constructive criticism and not just a pointless flame)!