Empty. The feeling of emptiness flooded all senses that Michelangelo was feeling. A numb absence that couldn't be described pooled in the middle of his soul. He felt nothing except for confusion at this very moment. He opened his eyes slowly, not remembering when or how he left the tube that transported him to his next fight. He looked around to see he was in a dark room. A dark, large room. He stood up and felt completely weightless like a feather in the wind. He didn't feel sick like he did before but instead, he felt content. There was no pain, no nausea, no anything. He couldn't feel happy about this content feeling because he knew he was about to fight and there is nothing happy that happens in the arena.
He looked around trying to find his opponent. He thought since he felt so good then he would have a chance to win. He stumbled slightly when he started to walk. He looked down to see twin Nuncucks lying on the floor. He crouched down next to the weapons and examines them slightly. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head which caused him to groan slightly. With slow, tentative movement, he ghost over the leather hold at the base of the nunchuck. He twitched from the stinging pain. He knew where this was from, he recognized it, he know he did. With an encouraged movement, he grasped the weapon and slowly picked up one of the pair. Standing back up, he felt the rough leather covering the steal underneath. Squeezing it lightly, he felt as though they were made for his hand. Then, as if a large rock smashed into the side of his skull, he growled out loud and fell to his knees, clutching his fist to the side of his head. These weapons were his. They were given to him by his master, by his father. His eyes went wide when he put the small amount of pieces together. His father, the rat that was mutated who took him and his brothers in when they had no where to go. He felt the breath get trapped in his throat. His brothers, the ones that helped him, protect him. They were his family, then, where were they?
He felt a shiver go down his spine when he sensed a figure run right by him. He almost evaded the fact he was still in a fight. Licking his lips, and ignoring the still throbbing pain in his head, he stood up and looked around the still darken room. Steadying his breath, he took his stance and continued to look around the room. He held the nunchuck with both hands in front of him ready to defend. His heart was fluttering in his rib cage it felt like it was about to blast from his chest. He felt a wind behind him and brought his weapon in front of him to show that the chain linking his Nuncucks were collided with a well sharp blade. He saw the sword was being held by a person a few inches then him but his face never showing; instead the light identified a large three fingered hand that gripped the end of the sword. His opponent chuckled and retreated back to the shadows.
Mikey thought fast and quickly grabbed the other nunchuck that was on the ground and span them as if he was a natural at it. He felt the speed of his opponent behind him and quickly defended another attack. This time instead of the sword it was a pair of Sais, digging into the chain of Michelangelo's weapon. He was shocked to feel the brute strength that his opponent lacked nearly moments ago. Mikey struggled slightly by the unique strength and yet it was so familiar. He quickly wrapped his chain around the twin Sais and threw them to the side, leaving his opponent unarmed. As he was about to attack, he felt a jab in his side. He grunted and quickly covered is sensitive side and looked to see a Bo Staff in reach. As he tried to grab it, his opponent jumped back and he could see the glistening sign of a smirk. Mikey turned his head to see that there were two instead of just one opponent and cursed Rictor for giving him a disadvantage. He looked to see one of his opponents pick up the Sais; he couldn't see his eyes still. Mikey was frustrated that these people were so recognizable and yet he couldn't put his finger on it. What he did see was the one with the Sais smirk.
"You're still weak." He grumbled. Mikey was taken back. He felt a pain in the back of his neck and he fell to his knees. Placing a hand on the back of his neck he leaned forward trying to balance out the pains he was feeling everywhere. They were here, he knew them, they had to be his brothers, and it had to be. Their weapons, their fighting styles, the way they looked, their smell. There was no way that Rictor could have been able to fake this. But then, why were they fighting him? Why were they injuring him even farther then he already was.
He opened his eyes slightly to see a sword was forced under his neck, forcing to look up at his leader. He couldn't see his eyes for the shadow still covered them, but no doubt there was the blue bandana tails hanging in the side of his neck. Mikey gulped and shook slightly. This was his brother, his elder brother it was no doubt he was here. But, Mikey saw his stance and recognized it. He realized what his position was and came to the conclusion; Leo was going to kill him.
With a hitch in his breath, Mikey tried to speak, "Leo?" It came out lower then a whisper but it hurt to talk.
"Oh so you do speak, how interesting." Leo mused as he raised his sword and was about to swing down. Mikey acted on instinct and quickly rolled away, watching as the sword made contact with the ground. Mikey didn't have long till he felt someone wrapping an arm under his armpit and the other around his neck, keeping him in a head lock, cutting off his airway. He gasped for air as the strong arms dug deeper into his throat.
"What happen there little bro? I thought you were strong?" He taunted. The voice was deeper and rougher and knew too well it was Raphael. Mikey never liked to spar with Raph because when they did, Raph was much more determined to win then Mikey ever was. Raph had a tendency of leaving multiple bruises all around his body from the small amount of sparring. Even though he could run circles around Raph, his bulky build and his intensive strength was a painful stop sign to Mikey.
Mikey was struggling hard by this point. Being able to get out small gasps at that but it wasn't enough. He quickly thought of his training and used it to his advantage. He gripped on the arm around his arm and with a quick, heaved thrust down, he used his strength and was able to throw Raphael over his shoulder and allowed him to take back the oxygen. He stood there for a moment and felt his throat, feeling the now raw skin radiating heat from the rough skin from his brother. He looked to see Raphael no longer on the floor. He turned quickly to have his face meet the end of the Bo staff. He stumbled back and over and over again he was wacked with the wooden staff. He knew this was Donnie; the way he moved was always swift, easy to counter at most points. But right now, he was moving with so much precision it was hard to keep up. He suddenly lost balance and fell right on his bottom. He was breathing hard and could feel the swelling on the top of his head. He heard the laughter of his brothers and before he loved the sound, but right now he wished they would just go away.
Mikey looked up to see them looking down at him, their eyes still covered by the dense shadows. He felt so small compared to all of them right now. He always had. They always been better fighters then Mikey has ever been. Although his father says that he has the natural ability, something that his brothers have been working at their entire lives for, but he never saw it that way. Fighting was never something he was too concerned for but right now, he wish it was. Looking up at his brothers, he felt scared. He was never scared of his brothers, not even Raph during one of his rants but right now, they gave off the scent of determinant. Mikey moved slowly till he was on his knees.
"G-guys?" Mikey stuttered. The room felt so cold and unintentially began to shiver.
"Look at that he's shivering. What's the matter Mikey? Ya scared?" Raph taunted. He was scared, more then scared but he couldn't seem to respond to him.
"You never could hold your own, always getting yourself in situations and having us coming to safe you every time." Donnie spoke. Mikey was beginning to start feeling offended. He didn't mean to get captured, they always came after him, they never went after any of his brothers it was always him.
"Head always in the clouds, never focusing, being a burden to the entire family, dishonoring us every way you turn." Leo stated.
"No that's not true at all!" Mikey yelled frantically. He hated knowing he always let his brothers down, that was something he did on a daily basis and he already felt horrible about it, but now he never felt so miserable.
Mikey bowed his head and placed his hands on the ground, scrunching his eyes tight. What kind of brother was he? As much as he wanted to, needed to, his brothers were right. He is always in the way, always in there way. He hated himself for never being like his brothers.
"All look I think he's gonna cry." Raph's voice echoed. Mikey bowed his head farther till his chin was touching his plastron. He was ashamed because it really felt like he was.
"You big crybaby, you really are worthless." Donnie taunted. Mikey shook horribly, listening to their taunts, their laughter, like how they did when he was younger. He was stupid, he was weak, and he always had been. He heard himself give out a pathetic whimper. Then he felt it, a unique wetness going down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, he saw he was no longer in the room but instead underneath a fallen subway station. He didn't realize it but he was smaller, a child of sorts.
He looked around and saw that the area he was in was only big enough to let his small form stand and walk a few steps but this rubble cave was too small. He felt his small chest tighten and fear overtook him. He felt the tears poor down his face.
"Mikey!" Screamed a young voice. Mikey went down on his knees and pressed his face to the thick wall of the fallen subway station.
"Leo please get me out! I'm scared!" He cried. His whimpers and sobs were loud enough to be heard past the wall. A few moment past and Mikey didn't get a response.
"Leo..?" His voice cracked. A few more moment passed and he heard a muffled sigh.
"Mikey you're crying again." Leo said. His brothers have talked to him about his crying episodes and explained to him countless times why he shouldn't cry.
"B-but L-L-Leo I c-cant help it." He rubbed his face with the back of his small hands, trying to clear his vision but it was hard. He hiccupped a few times, feeling the dirt from the rubble rubbing against his cheeks with each stroke of his hand. No matter what he tried, the tears kept coming back.
"No Mikey your gonna stay in there till you learn to suck it up!" He heard Raph yell. Mikey was terrified, he can't stay in here. He looked around in the small inhabitance and to see the shadows around him were moving. They were closing in on him; they were going to consume him and devour him whole.
"No! No please Raphie don't leave me in here please! I-its to small I- can't breath please Raphie!" Mikey screamed, not daring to bang on the wall in case it was to come crumbling down on top of him.
"No Mikey, I aint listening to you whine anymore." Raph ruffed. Mikey scanned the wall, as if he looked hard he could see his brother's face. The tears were dripping off of his chin and he started to pant roughly.
"Leo, Leo please, I promise I'll be good I-I wont be bad but please let me out please!" He was in a frantic mess. Leo always protected him, always scared away the boogieman; he'll help him.
"I'm sorry Mikey but Ninjas aren't always scared. You can't fight if you're too afraid." It felt as though Mikey was being stabbed in the heart. He calmed down slightly, still whimpering. His eyes felt swollen from his tears, his cheeks heated. He felt the shadows looking at him, whispering to him, threatening to close the walls around him. He didn't want to die here, he didn't want to be here, he wanted to go home, and he needed help.
"Donnie…Donnie please..." Donnie always defended him, always looked out for him. If Raph got angry at him Donnie was there. When Leo was too harsh with him, Donnie was there to comfort him. He waited for a response, a response that felt as if it took a year to give.
"I'm sorry Mikey. You need this." He simply said. Mikey backed up away a few steps and fell to his knees. He hugged his body tight, feeling the darkness surrounding him. He couldn't help but to cry, he was so scared. The pressure around him was building, making a sphere around, making it harder to breath. Then suddenly he shrieked.
"Please let me out! I don't wanna be alone please! I-I wanna go home! Please!" a sudden noise caught Mikey's attention. He looked up to see his father standing in the doorway of one of their closest from their old lair. Mikey looked around and saw he wasn't under the rubble anymore but instead in the closet Raphael locked him in when they were kids. Mikey stood up and ran into his fathers arms. Splinter sat with his weeping son and stroked his shell lightly.
"My son you are fine." He soothed. Mikey just hid his face in his father's chest. The smell, the feel of his father was so comforting and at that moment he felt safe.
"Do not cry Michelangelo. You are strong and determined. You can face any challenge." He soothed. Mikey stopped crying and thought. If he was so strong then why did he feel so weak? He looked up at his father, small eyes glassed over with tears.
"I don't wanna be alone anymore." He sniffled. His father smiled and placed his paw on the back of Mikey's head and pushed him back to his chest.
"My son you are never alone. You will win this. You will fight and you will succeed. These men will break you my son but we will always be here for, no matter what. Never forget who you are my son." He spoke softly. Mikey kept his eyes clothes, feeling his father's presence abandoning him.
"Now open your eyes my son, and stay strong." His voice sounded so distant, so far away. Mikey groaned and felt a cough rumble out of the pit of his throat. He gasped for breath and cracked open his eyes. His sight was distraught as he tried to focus. He felt this urge in his gut telling him he needed to get up. With another cough, he placed his hand on the floor and pushed his heavy body up. He felt like he weighed a ton. It only seemed like minutes ago he could float off into the sky but now, he felt as though he was chained to the ground. His head felt light though, as it was hard to focus. He felt the nauseating feeling he did earlier when he went to originally talk to Rictor. He growled at the thought of that man. Even in his most vulnerable stage, he still somehow invaded his mind. He took some needed breaths before sitting up all the way. He thought he was going to vomit again; the twisting of his stomach was growing painful.
"Interesting." A voice spoke. Mikey flinched when he looked over to see an elder man sitting cross legged on the floor. He had purplish skin and a long white beard that curled in his lap. His eyes sunken in and the bags highlighting his face. His body was terribly thin and his frail form covered by a thin brown shirt and shorts, similar to what his friend wears. His heart suddenly filled with dread, fearing of what they may have done with his friend. His attention was turned back to the old man.
"W-who-" He choked, throat too dry to speak properly.
"I am known as Yavour. And you are Michelangelo, son of Splinter, brother of Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello." His voice was rough and crackled and yet he sat up and spoke with such power. Mikey was dumbfounded for a moment.
"You're my opponent right? That's how you know so much about me?" He asked with a low, crackled voice, holding back another coughing fit that threaten to penetrate through his dry lips.
"That I am dear boy, but I was not informed of who you were till you entered this room." The old man admitted. Mikey looked around to see the dark room he woke up in where he was before. Mikey tried to organize his thoughts but everything hurt. With a grunt, he pushed himself up on his shaky legs, swaying lightly. He felt tired, but he was happy about one thing. His father was fresh in his mind; he couldn't help but feel just a small amount of comfort. He won't loose, not to these people. He looked at the old man and stood up straight, showing his bearings to let him know he isn't playing around.
"Well let's start then." He said, voice still cracking slightly. The old man looked at up the young turtle and observed him.
"I have already attempted to kill you but your spiritual being is much stronger then I anticipated. I have no more to fight with." The old man admitted. Mikey raised his eye ridged with a questioning look.
"What do you mean? You haven't even attacked me yet." Mikey pointed out.
"Oh but I did. You can't possibly believe you came up with all those pretty little memories of your all by yourself now did you?" He asked. Mikey felt the burning sense of anger.
"y-you did that? You used my family's memory against me?" He asked, raising his voice a little.
"I did. I have spent over twenty years in this place called my home and not once have an ever raised my hand in battle. I use their mind against them. My intentions were to have your brothers kill you while I had you under my spell so you believing you had died, your physical body would have died with you." He explained. He couldn't help but feel the pain of betrayal in deep in his heart. Those memories as they were called were so realistic; he could have sworn those were his brothers. Homesickness was intertwining with his nausea and he felt like he was spinning. What he didn't realize was that the elder was still talking to him.
"But I did not expect you to retreat to your own mind, very clever I must say, though I doubt that you did that intentionally. But either way you have won and think I have given you a gift," He looked at Mikey who stood there, looking back him with understanding eyes. Mikey bit his lip.
"Yea what would that be?" He dared to ask. The old man smiled and closed his eyes.
"I have given you the memory of your family once again. Enjoy it little one, you won't have it for long." That sent a small strip of fear through Mikey's body. He did have the sense of his family again, recognizing them, hearing them once more and he feared of the loneliness, the helplessness he felt after loosing their identities. He took in a shaky breath and exhaled loudly.
"Thank you." He made it sound sincere as he could but it was hard to do. He did appreciate this some gesture this man made.
"Now, since you have won for I cannot fight you, finish me off and continue on your journey little one." He spoke. Mikey froze. He had completely forgotten the rule to win was to kill your opponent. Mikey tucked both of his lips into his mouth and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, I can't." Was all Mikey could say. The old man sighed and down casted his gaze to the floor.
"Are you calling Mercy on me?" He asked. He looked back up and to see the shame and the guilt on his face. Unable to look at him, Mikey turned his head slightly and nodded. Yavour nodded his head in understandment.
"Very well then." Was all he said and remained seated. Mikey couldn't stop himself; he turned to face the elder.
"I am so sorry. Please forgive me I understand you have given me my memory and I am so sorry I can't kill it's just that-" the elder held up his hand to stop Mikey's rambling.
"My dear boy you are young, and very so innocent to ever understand so for you to pull mercy on me I will accept. I have nothing left to live for anyways. So please, do not feel sorry for me." He simply said, his facial expression never changing. Mikey still felt terribly guilty but he knew there was nothing her could do. With some struggle, he bent forward and bowed to the old man.
"Thank you for accepting my failure to you." He said. The elder bowed his head back, understanding his pain and guilt but would not press the situation any farther then it already was.
Suddenly, the cylinder started to appear around Michelangelo. Mikey panicked only slightly until he realized he was being taken out of the arena. Before the transport covered over his head, he looked out to the elder one last time to see he was also being taken in by a transport. When he was fully covered, he leaned back on the side, feeling the uncomfortable crampness of the compartment. He brought up his hand to his face to feel his cheek to feel they are still dry and unstreaked. He realized the tears he shed were not real. He sighed to himself in relief. He will not break for these people. He was able to continue forward and claim himself victor and live on a little while longer. For now, he will hold on with the memory and the words of his sensei. He will fight, and he will win.
Victor sat gripping tightly at the table. As he watched Michelangelo being escorted to the infirmary, Rictor flipped the table and left his office to another room. This room was white and contained nothing except for the elder that Michelangelo fought and a small alienated gun. He was angered beyond belief looking over the elder who sat in complete content with himself.
"What the hell was that about?" He asked Yavour.
"I do not know what you mean Rictor. I did exactly what you instructed me to do." He said.
"You let him win! I saw you. You let go of your hold on him at the very end." Rictor accused.
"I did no such thing. I exploited his fears and weakness just as you asked. I could not control how he approached it. His mind is much stronger then you take it for. That mistake is on you." The elder spoke. Rictor growled out loud.
"He was supposed to loose to you. I have done things to him that should have fractured him enough to send him over the edge." He nearly gritted out.
"Yes I have seen what you have done to the poor child and believe me Rictor I do not approve." The elder said Rictor huffed and turned to the side.
"That kid fears me."
"He hates you, does not fear, but hates." Yavour corrected. Rictor narrowed his eyes.
"Yes you would know that because you were in his head and you knew how to end him but you chose not to." He growled, getting into the elders face. The man did not move from Rictor's eyes.
"The boy will win against you. Scarred and bruised and possibly with a fractured soul but he will win." He stated. Suddenly, Rictor's face smoothed out and let out a hearty laugh. He stood up and grabbed the gun.
"I will end that boy, just as I have with everything else." He said.
"Because we are nothing more then slaves to you. We have no life, no feeling, but toys to break and bury." The man said.
"You and Miles were never slaves." Rictor said, eyeing the gun.
"We lived in a cell like a slave, ate like a slave, and beaten like a slave. What am I missing?" He asked. Rictor smiled at the question.
"I grant you a chance to a less agonizing death." He said, cocking the gun. He smiled to himself, thinking of a few new ways how he would break the child.
"Tell me one thing before you take the shot, why the obsession of the young turtle? You have never gone this far to hurt a slave." The elder asked. Rictor mused over the question for a moment. Rubbing his chin with his hand, he came up with an answer.
"He is a light. I prefer the dark." He said pointing the gun at the elder.
"I have witnessed who his family is. They will come and they will kill you and destroy everything you worked for." The elder threatened. Giving a rough chuckle, Rictor cracked his neck and narrowed his eyes.
"I plan on it." The booming sound of the gun echoed through the hallways, sounding like a boom from cannon. The guards outside the room where Rictor was quickly straightened out as Rictor walked out the room. He turned to the guards.
"Go clean up in there and when you're done, go grab Michelangelo from the infirmary." He turned his back and headed back to his office. "I have an exercise for him to perform"
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm sorry the late update I have finals all last week and this week so I'm gonna be pretty busy but I promise to get an update in sometime next week! But I hope you all enjoyed and please review and tell me what you think!