4.

He couldn't breathe.

Well, that was a lie. He could breathe, otherwise he'd be unconscious right now. Or dead. Actually, dead probably wasn't too far off at this point. But he was too close to give up now. Despite the pain slowly spreading across his chest, he stumbled on towards the pier. It was so close. Like, fifty feet away. He could make that.

Wish Casey or April would turn on their phones. Probably on a date. That's okay, then. Not their fault. Damn, this hurts.

When had the pain even started? He couldn't remember. It had snuck up on him, pounced on him just as he was starting to believe he could do this. Now a fiery agony was burning in his lungs and heart. It wasn't the raw, dry pain of a long hard run, something that could be quenched with a few big gulps of water and rest. No, this was different. It was heavy. It was tied to his ribcage, pulling him down to the concrete. He had to fight to stay upright. He had to fight for each step.

But he could see the water now.

So damn close. Thirty feet felt like thirty miles. I'm coming, Leo. So close. Almost there. Twenty feet. When had his legs turned to steel? Come on, move! Ten feet. Damn, the pain was moving down his arms and up into his throat. His oesophagus had better not join the revolt and swell shut on him. That would just make his friggin' night.

If I live through this, they owe me. Big. I want a cake. The huge ones that you can hide a stripper in. And pizza. And six or seven new video games. And unlimited TV privileges. And a massage.

He continued the list in his head as he dragged his feet along the rough, wooden docks. Splinters bit into his skin, but he ignored the feeling. The pain surging through his upper body was enough to distract him. He neared the edge of the dock, and anxiety began to creep into his gut. What if he was too late? No, he couldn't be too late; that wasn't an option. He was going to save Leo.

He rolled his ankle just as he reached the end of the docks. He collapsed to his knees, wincing, but something green in his peripherals distracted him. Looking down, he was relieved to see his brother—still unconscious—bound to the pier. Leo's head, however, was limply hanging dangerously close to the water. A wave came in, and briefly submerged his brother's face. Mikey leaned forward, his fingers searching for the knot in the rope that held his brother to the dock. Then three things happened in quick succession: his heart stuttered painfully; he bent forward, clutching his chest; and he toppled into the freezing water.

For a split second, he was in shock, his oxygen-deprived brain trying to make sense of the sudden change. Instinctively, he tried to breathe, but ended up sucking in a big gulp of water. That got him moving. He floundered in the murky depths, unsure of which direction the air was. His arms flailed, and one broke the surface. He exploded out of the water a moment later, just in time for a wave to sweep him into his drugged brother. He didn't waste a second, going straight back to working on the rope that tied Leo's hands to the pier.

"This is freezing," he grumbled to himself. "I'm gonna make Don build us a sauna."

It was no use. His fingers were going numb—from the poison or the water, he wasn't sure—and the rope was tied too tightly for him to work with. He briefly considered going back underwater to find a sharp rock, but that would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. While blindfolded. And then he noticed that his brother still had his katana strapped to his back.

"Thank you, stupid gangsters!"

He reach up, and grasped the hilt of his brother's sword. However, as he tried to lift it out of the sheath, his arm began to quiver under the weight. Oh, come on! He didn't remember Leo's swords being this heavy before. He gritted his teeth and continued to lift his brother's ten billion pound sword until gravity and the weight of his arm and the katana finally forced it out of the sheath. His arm splashed back into the water, and he nearly lost his grip on the sword, which sent his heart thudding agonizingly in panic.

Come on. Lift it. Just once more.

He took a ragged breath, and swung the katana into the wood, severing the rope. Leo fell forward onto Mikey—something he hadn't thought through. The added weight pushed him beneath the water, and he exhaled in surprise. The cold and dark closed around him, and he couldn't feel his brother anymore. He opened his eyes, finding he could barely see. The water stung, but he couldn't let Leo drown.

Something brushed against his ankle, and he spotted a dark shape drifting beneath him. Instantly his arms were around it—and thank God, he felt Leo's shell under his arm—and he was swimming to the surface. As soon as his head was out of the water, he realized there was no feasible way that he could get himself, let alone his brother, back onto the docks in his current condition. But he couldn't just tread water until he drowned.

Guess I'm hauling us over the rocks. That should be fun.

A few yards away was the shore, but the giant jagged rocks would prove to be a bit of an obstacle. Still, he didn't have a choice. He couldn't keep both himself and Leo afloat for much longer. He struck out for the shore, and noticed the pain was seeping into his legs. It seemed to take an eternity, but he eventually made it. He shoved Leo up onto land, wincing at the sound his shell made as it scraped against the rocks. It was considerably harder to drag himself out of the water; his heart began to beat irregularly for a few seconds, and he sat down, wrapping his arms around his shaking body until the erratic thudding stopped.

He made sure to carry Leo far enough away from the water that the incoming tide wouldn't sweep him back, but also far enough from the road that no one would notice a giant, mutant turtle.

Better wake up soon, bro.

And now it was time to save himself. He took off once more into the night.

How did I get up here?

Don had opened his eyes before, and was now thoroughly confused. He was on a rooftop, with what looked like someone's laundry draped over him. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, groaning at the stiffness in his muscles. And then everything that had happened in the past few hours came flooding back.

The ambush … a vague memory of waking up somewhere dark, only to slip back into unconsciousness … a shrill shout, "Donny!"

Something terrible had occurred, and a twisted, heavy feeling in his heart told him it wasn't over yet.

Mikey stumbled again, falling to his knees. But he couldn't stop. He was almost there. He could see it: the warehouse, where the antidote was, just one more building after this one. He forced himself back to his feet. From his position on the rooftop, he could jump across to the roof of the warehouse. Probably.

His heart thudded painfully inside his chest again. He was being dragged down, and he couldn't stop it. But he was at the edge of the roof. He could jump. He could make it.

At least my brothers are safe.

His lungs felt like they were shrinking. It was now or never. He wasn't going to last much longer. Bracing himself, he leapt.

Sailing through the air was peaceful. The wind caressing his aching body, the feeling of weightlessness. Maybe this would be what death was like. But his thoughts ended abruptly as he slammed into the side of the warehouse. He hadn't made it flawlessly to the top; instead, his hands scrambled to find something to hold on to, something to keep him from falling.

Time slowed. He felt himself slipping. He grasped feebly at the side of the building, but he could feel his senses ebbing away. As he began to plummet, everything seemed to disappear. He was gone before he even hit the ground.