A world engulfed by fire, tarnished by sinful souls flooding the atmosphere of the world, burning it agonizingly slow. He witnessed the fall of humanity and the suffering of millions. The pain and shallow penetration of the tainted acts of the gods, forcing the hand on so many to choose the end of life itself. Mikey, forced to witness the death of his family, his friends, so many men, women, and children by the work of the guardians, was too much for the young boy to handle. All of it, flashed by his eyes in a mere moment of desperation and confusion. So much at once he couldn't hold his bearings any longer.
He felt them, the stream of the salty water from his eyes flow in a steady stream down his face in clarification of his fractured soul. He couldn't bare it, the sight of his brothers down at his feet, blood covering every inch of their lifeless forms. His father, his mentor, propped up on a stick, staring down at him with dishonor and disgrace. The pain, the agony and guilt mixed with shame. It was all too much.
Now, he was being dragged, dragged along the all too familiar hallways, the walls screaming at him, reminding him how he failed to keep the one vow he had held to himself since he was a young child. The floor wobbling beneath his feet, encouraging him to fall to feel the embarrassment he had set to his family's name. The grip the guards had on his arms were tight, taunting his stricken heart how strong of a hold Rictor had on him. He could never escape.
Forcing his pounding head to look forward, his eyes were locked on the small terrapin boy, standing in the hall against the wall, watching as Mikey was dragged by. Eyes locked, twin pools staring into one another. The young boy was crying, wallowing as he watched Mikey. He couldn't stop himself, the tears flowing so vividly down his already soaked face looking at his young self, reminding him how much he failed.
"Y-your gonna die down here." Was all he said in between the dramatic sobs. Mikey crunched his eyes tight, trying to stop the tears of shame but unsuccessful. His body and soul so confused, so frustrated he didn't know what to do. So, he let instinct decide.
He was a fighter, a warrior, a disciple of the great Master Splinter and this was all he to show for it? Never.
He started to thrash. Fight against the restraining guards. He had no energy, no real strength to fight full heartily but he felt the fire deep within him telling him he needed to fight. He heard the growls of the guards, demanding him to stop his pointless battle but Michelangelo would not stop. He will never stop fighting. He will fight the demons, the shadows, the pains, all of it. He started to yell, and animalistic screech escaped him dry lips, tugging his weak arms from the grasps of the defending limbs. He felt one of the guards go behind him and tug his body up, making his legs flail up in the air.
He spoke no words but growled as if he was a threat to these mindless beasts. He felt no honor, no sense of regret, he believed the images, and the live streams of the future to come were his own humanity dying in front of him. He was an animal, a beast under the control of his master. When he felt the hard fist of the other guard hit him under his jaw, his mind went numb. He gasped back the tears once more as he fell to his knees. The guards left him there, unknowing how to approach the crazed turtle. Mikey stayed on his knees, staring at the floor, watching the droplets fall to the ground in a sequential pattern. They wouldn't stop; they wouldn't stop shaming him any more then they already did. He breathing was beginning quicken, heart pressing tight against his rib cage. His eyes were wild, looking down at the floor. His eyes snapped up to see his young self standing there, holding a stuffed panda bear with a missing eye. He had bruises all over his body. Mikey choked recognizing them as hand marks. His abuse, his corruption wiped across his small form. His cries were loud, echoing in Mikey's head feeling like a thousand drums playing in a symphany.
"Please…please don't leave. I-I Don't wanna be alone." He cried louder, bringing up his small fist to his eye and crushed the tears away. The hot tears burned as they went down his face, his mouth slightly opened, gasping out the air that tasted tainted.
"Im sorry. God, Im sorry!" He pulled out in a harsh whisper, ducking his head away from the broken innocent. He was weak, he was an animal. He was worthless. The pain in his aching heart, the numbness in his mind, the cooling streams down his eyes all so much it felt like his body was going to break in two.
He felt the guards grab under his arms, deciding it was time to pick him up. Mikey began to blubber, chanting the word 'no' over and over as they lifted him to his feet. Mikey pulled back, rebelling against going wherever the guards were taking him. He wanted to stay, stay in place and wait for his fate. But the guards had the upper hand and forced him to walk, with stumble but effective.
They made it to the cylinder where he will be transported to his next fight. Mikey felt his knees go weak looking at the cylinder. He threw his head back in anguish and tried to pull back again. He was too sick, too tired. But, maybe, if he was careful, smart about his movements, he would allow his suffering to end.
Shoved roughly into the container, the door shut and the transporter began to move. Mikey tried to steady himself till he felt the wretched cough returned. He placed his arm on the wall as he bent over to gag on the infection that settled deeply into his lungs. He then looked up he saw his reflection. It was cut out just slightly because of the lack of lighting but it was enough to pull at Michelangelo's heart once more. He was so beaten down, so crushed underneath the weight of the fights and Rictor's abuse he was surprised he was still standing. His body, his mind, his heart all conflicting with one another. His body demanding release, somewhere to escape. His heart telling him to fight, give what ever was left. His mind, the most controversial of all, demanding him to fight Rictor and only him.
He tried to ease the pain the present time with memories but they were faded, all of them. Only glimpses, only some focuses on certain events but those that were in focused only involved Rictor and his wrongdoing towards the young turtle. He gave a grimaced smile. He thought that no family would want him after all of this.
The container came to a stop and opened for Mikey to the world which he hoped would be his last. With a slight wince, he stepped out to feel the disturbed dirt under him. He looked around the scenery to see the sky was grey and melancholy. He saw ditches and what looked to be tunnels with underground cavities and bunkers that were coated with barbed wire. He looked to the other side to see a large lake that looked to be dirty and very unsanitary. Mikey pieced the puzzle together and realized he was on a battle ground. With a dry gulp, he looked around but couldn't find his opponent.
"Well, well, well. If it ain't the shell back." Spoke an all too familiar voice. Mikey looked to see Miles standing there with his arms crossed. Mikey thought he would feel more fear towards this beast but felt something different. Kindness. When Rictor would send Miles into his cell, at first Mikey feared that he would take him like once before but instead Miles merely stated that the cameras were off and sat by the door for the couple of hours till he felt it was time to leave. He never said a word, just stared at the wall before deciding to take off. Mikey was good at reading people and something about Miles was different; claiming to be this evil menace on society but Mikey wasn't entirely convinced. He looked at Miles to see he had a smug look. He was putting on a show. Mikey licked his lips but didn't say a word.
"What's the matter shell back? Cat got your tongue?" He taunted. Again, Mikey refused to say a word, he simply waited for him to attack and end it all. He was ready to finish the last of his existence, but again his mind protested to fight, give it all he had till his last breath. He would decide what he would do when Miles decided to move.
Miles studied him, interested to know what was going through his head. He had to make this look good, believable. He had to act fast. He chuckled and brought out his arms to his sides.
"Like it?" He asked, referring to the scenery. "Picked it out myself. Thought it would be appropriate considering we're on the opposite sides why not work it out on the field am I right?" He asked, keeping up his taunting smirk. Mikey didn't respond, just stood there. Miles could tell there was something different, something off. He felt a slight tremor go through his body looking at the turtle. His energy of pure hatred ruminating off of his small form. He had to move, now.
With a crack of his neck, he moved forward, charging at the young boy at full force.
Mikey with some focus was able to dodge the offending punch. Miles tried to kick but Mikey was able to dodge once more, feeling the vibrations of the force Miles was putting in his hits through his body. Mikey wasn't ready for the next hit that got him in the cheek, making his stumble back. Mikey played with the blood from his torn cheek in his mouth for a moment before crouching down and plunging forward at Miles. Miles was ready to grab Mikey's arm and use a reverse punch but didn't expect him to place his hands on the ground and twist his body up, kicking Miles in the jaw and sending him to the ground. Mikey struggled getting back up, using too much energy used in the attack. When he did, he had to catch the breath he lost but wasn't granted that privileged with that benefaction. Miles tackled him to the ground, face in the dirt and arms behind his shell, twisting back as far as they go.
Mikey let out a yell of pain as his limbs were pulled. With as twist of his lower body, he was able to bring up his leg and catch Miles in the lower abdomen. With a growl, Miles backed away, holding his now sensitive front. Mikey scrambled back, holding his arms together, releasing the pain that was coursing through his now tired muscles. He had to get some distance between he and Miles.
As fast as he could, he stood up and took off in the opposite direction, running as fast as his body would allow him. The pain under his tail was still so bright and troublesome it was affected his way of running, the distance his legs could go before the burn was too much.
So caught up in the pain in his lower regions, he missed the hole in front of him and fell in the medium sized ditch, feeling his neck bend in an awkward position going down. He laid there, breathing heavily. He needed to get up, he either had to fight or allow Miles to win but either way he needed to move. When he tried to move his right leg, a sharp pain went up his body, making him let out an arduous yelp of pain. He looked at his leg to see that a large piece of glass had somehow lodged itself in the bottom part of calf. He looked to see he landed on the side of a pit that contained shards of broken glass and pieces of scrap metal.
He grounded his teeth together, taking tentative care, pulled the shard out watching the clot of blood follow suit. He chucked the shard to the side and covered the wound with both hands, inhaling through his clamped teeth. It hurt so much but it distracted his mind from the rest of his body that hurt. What worried him was the continuous bleeding that was occurring, painting his ankle and the top of his foot. With a few courageous breaths, he slid the knee pad down and tighten the strap so it kept the wound at bay. He rocked back and forth from where he sat for a few seconds before attempting to hoist himself up. Once he put pressure on the leg, it crumpled like paper under him, making him land on his side with a loud thump, coiling back in position. He coughed when dust flooded his mouth, irritating his already inflamed lungs.
Mikey decided to take another approach and try and crawl out of the whole. His body slipped down the sand walls a few times but was able to bring his hands up to the top. This was too hard to do. His body was at its limits and this was exceeding it. Ready to willingly fall down the pit till he gained enough energy to move again, he felt a fury hand grasp both his wrist and pull him up. Mikey gasped when he saw Miles lifted him up but didn't put him down. He kept him up in the air, unable to find purchase on the ground. Mikey struggled trying to get out of the grasp of this giant but with no avail.
Miles chuckled at the fact that Mikey was still fighting. He knew he would but he couldn't get off topic and finish his mission. With a grin he shook Mikey slightly.
"Ya know that wasn't nice to kick me." He said. He looked to his side to see the barbed wire was in close range.
"Let's see how you like getting hurt." He growled. He swung Mikey slightly before throwing across the way right into the bed of wire.
Mikey wasn't too aware on what was going on until he heard himself scream in agony. He landed on the wire shell first; making it so most his body evaded the deadly shards of metal. But, his left arm wasn't so lucky. Mikey was sweating, panting through clamped teeth. The pain was engulfing all his senses. He looked at his arm to see the wire wrapped tightly around his forearm, piercing the tender flash, painting the metal with crimson. Mikey tried to release the hold of the metal but earned himself a tearing pain from his arm. Mikey laid there, breathing heavily looking up at the artificial sky.
Is this what I've been reduced to? He thought to himself. He accepted his death but still regretted he couldn't have been more.
He looked up to see Miles looming over him, hands on his hips, amused in a way.
"Geez kid, thought you'd put up more of a fight." Miles spoke but Mikey barely registered it. He tensed though when he saw Miles bend down and quickly grasped the barbed wire. Mikey whimpered when it was tugged on his broken flesh. Then with one quick movement, he ripped Mikey's arm loose of the barbed wire like a band aid. Mikey yelled out in distress, feeling the tear of his thick skin, blood flowing down his arm. His choking sobs coming out in horrendous gasps for relief. He tried to pull his arm back to himself for self comfort but Miles wouldn't allow that. He tugged on the fleshed arm, forcing Mikey to submit to the demands of his opponent.
Mikey stood on shaky legs before he felt a paw go on his neck and grip tightly. His choking breath was the only thing audible as Miles lifted him back in the air, letting the damaged arm fall limp. With a curled smile, he looked up at the broken soul and thought, what more could he do? Miles looked over to the pond sitting at the end of the arena then back at Michelangelo.
"Why don't we get that cleaned up shall we?" He suggested, bringing Mikey against his will towards the water. Mikey's good arm was gripping at the dog creature's wrist, clawing it with little strength in hopes he would let go of his sensitive neck.
Miles walked in the small pool for a little ways till he felt it was deep enough. He gave Mikey a side smirk before throwing Mikey into the depths of the water like he was a dish rag, never releasing his hold on his neck. Mikey went down into the water with a large splash. The cold water engulfed him, smothering him. The cold feeling splintered his body like a thousand shards. He yelped with surprise, releasing some of the air that was kept in the bottom of his lungs. He soon felt both paws over his wind pipe and pushing hard against the only thing that was keeping Mikey from seeing the dark.
The pain in his neck was rough; it was too much he couldn't handle it. His instinct was to survive; all living creatures' purpose was to continue living. He started to kick out with his good leg, twisted his body trying to release the powerful hold that Miles had on him. His eyes, staring up to the world above him. Blue orbs shining brightly past the scum infested water. He felt the bubbles leave his body and dance in front of him, encouraging him to be free. They peddled around the darken water and tangled with the loose blood coming from his arm. He felt they were telling him to release, leave this world and find paradise. With a swift, and almost willing movement, he felt the breath leave him completely. His struggles subsided, the grip on Miles wrists loosened. His sight was growing dark. His body didn't hurt as bad as it did before. It was a thin throb through his body. He could convince himself he felt content. He saw Miles looking down at him, the image of this beast disoriented because of the splashing water. He was staring, observing what he had done.
Mikey was about to let go of the wrist then suddenly his body was hoisted up from the water and thrown to the side, still partially in the water. Against his will, his body rejected the remaining water that was settled in his lungs that pooled over the side of his face, breathing in the most needed breaths. Mikey was coughing frantically, curling to his side, legs close to his plastron like a small child did when they were sick.
He was so close! So close! He felt the disappointment flooding his body. The pain was beginning to return but he was too tired to move. He stayed on his side breathing heavily, feeling the shadow that was falling over him. He watched as Miles crouched down next to him. Mikey yelled, flaring his arms around trying anything to find something he needed.
"Stop, Stop! You're done!" Miles snarled. Mikey stopped his fighting, looking up at the beast. He saw the look in his eyes, the worry, the concern, the fear.
"Stop fighting. You lost." He started, licking his lips looking around before leaning in closer to Mikey. Mikey stayed completely still, body tensed under the large beast. Miles leaned close to his ear slit and whispered.
"Your brothers are close, there coming to get you. Just stay strong for a little longer." He pulled away looking down at the small mutant.
"Understand?" He whispered. Mikey tucked in his lips and nodded. Brothers? A Family? A glimmer of hope entered his small beating heart. Mikey moved to stand but Miles made a small gesture for him to stay down. Miles stood back up and looked around.
"Alright Rictor! The kid is done! I call Mercy!" He yelled. There was a pause, no one spoke, no one moved. The silence was thick, and almost unbearable.
"Finish him." Was all that was needed to cut through the silence that was so tightly packed in the atmosphere. Miles shoulders squared out as his body tensed. Biting his lip, he bounced on the heel of his foot.
"I already called mercy. I can't go back on it." Miles tried to counter. He looked back at Mikey to see the panic in his eyes, feeling his heart tighten looking at the dull blue eyes.
"I retort. I said finish him." Rictor's voice echoed. Miles stood there, nodding his head for a second before looking up back at the sky.
"No." He said bluntly. Another long and painful pause filled the arena. Mikey only sat there and waited to hear his fate, fearing of suffering. He heard a distant sigh.
"Very well." Rictor said with an irritated sigh. Mikey was able to get completely out of the water by this time but was stopped short when a cylinder engulfed him. He looked over to see Miles was also covered. Miles was smiling, a smile so genuine it made Mikey give a small flicker of a smirk, before disappearing into the darkness.
Mikey was brought down the hallway, so use to going straight to the nurse after the fight but knew he wouldn't be visiting the kind nurse that has been helping him, instead he would go straight to his cell. One light to this darken tunnel is that he wouldn't have to see Rictor. His body felt that similar pain of rage coming at him. He wanted to rip that smirk right off of the beasts face but knew wasn't able to do anything. What he truly worried was that these injuries he had sustained were going to be troublesome to deal with. He didn't want to get any infections but assumed he already did. He just hoped that the people who were coming to get him would be there before he was too sick.
They walked past the infirmary and Mikey couldn't help but look inside to look at the kind nurse who has been helping him. But, his breath was caught in his throat when he saw the nurse was no longer there. He slowed his movements with the guards, gaining a warning growl from one of them. Mikey felt the guilt coil in his heart. Did Rictor find out? Did she get caught helping him? He felt regret for ever getting the nice elder involved in his problems. He was shoved forward, forced to continue to walk. Mikey growled at himself for being so careless for not understanding the risks.
He was pushed into his cell and the door was slammed behind him, not to be opened again. Mikey stood for a moment, listening to the silence around him till his eyes fell on the items he found against the wall. He went to his knees and his mouth was opened in awe. There was bandages, ointment, and even some food and some water. There was a small note next to the necessities. He picked it up and choked back his cries.
"Stay Strong. –N" was all it read. The nurse left this for him. The guilt only flooded even more. He felt terrible. She did this for him and he couldn't do anything for her in return. He looked over to his friend, who they still failed to remove from the cell. The similar feeling of regret was the same as when his friend had died right before his eyes. He was there with him, to guide him and Mikey couldn't even save him. The tears flowed, and silently, with nothing but his own heart and soul, he cried in the corner of his cell.
Miles sat on top of the table in Rictor's office waiting for the man to come in and speak to him. Miles was a strong willed fighter and was not easy to manipulate but for his plan to work he needed to act the part of Rictor's loyal lap dog no matter how degrading it was.
He watched as the door opened to revile Rictor who at first stood in the doorway looking at Miles. Miles held his breath, stopped his swinging legs from the table and sat there completely still, waiting for Rictor to make the first move. Rictor cracked his neck and walked inside the darkened room, shutting the door behind him. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and turned his head away from Miles view. With a dramatic intake of breath, he spoke, "What the hell was that Miles?" he turned his head and gave Miles a glare. Miles merely sat there and smirked.
"What? I fought the kid and gave him mercy that's all I did." He said. Rictor growled and walked closer to Miles.
"I told you specifically to kill him in the arena, not to give him mercy." He growled through his teeth. Miles licked his lips feeling his heart flutter slightly. He needed to come up with something quick. With a nervous chuckle he spoke.
"Look the kid is gonna die either whether I killed him in the ring or not. I think you would be happy I let him live; now he gets to suffer in the cell all by himself. Don't you need him anyway to get his brothers?" he asked. He yelped like a hurt puppy when Rictor slapped him across the face. He growled in a threatening manner but quickly stopped seeing the anger on Rictor's face.
"Don't ever assume you know what I'm doing. I needed him dead through the regulations of the games and you blew it! Now, I have to wait until he dies out." Rictor sneered. Miles remained silent, restraining himself from attacking Rictor. Yes, he was stronger and could probably take him out right here but knew it would mess with his mission if he tried. Rictor shook his slightly before looking back up at Miles.
"What did you say to him?" He asked. Miles smiled.
"I don't know what yo-"
"Don't be stupid Miles. I know a dog's brain if pretty fucking small but I know you can remember what you whispered to the brat." He growled. Miles narrowed his eyes at the insult and gave a huffed laugh.
"I told him the same thing I tell them all." He started, widening his smile. "Have fun living the last moment of your life in hell." He lied. Rictor studied him, trying to find out if he was lying but when it came to Miles he could never tell. The dog had a poker face that no one could figure out. He stuck a finger in Miles face.
"I will warn you once and only once Miles. When I tell you to do something you fucking do it. If you deny me again, I will take that away," He pointed at the small white patch on the bottom of his chin. "And make you suffer like the rest of them am I clear?" He warned. Miles sat for a moment with a blank expression. He was too close to loose his cool now. With a smug smile he responded. "Crystal." With a hint of sarcasm. Rictor gave a smirk back before turning to leave.
"Get back to your cell." He demanded.
"Am I able to go to the nurse first?" he called out but got no reply. Now was his chance. He moved fast. All of the monitors were in Rictor's office. He moved over to the keys and pressed in the code for Mikey's cell. He watched as the camera came up with Mikey sitting next to the wall, luckily enough covering the items that were in his cell. He clicked the recording button and recorded that certain scene for thirty seconds and in his favor Michelangelo didn't move. When he stopped it, he set it on reply and brought the screen back to the original cameras. As much as Rictor was obsessing over the young turtle, there was no way he would keep tabs on him at all times. He had other prisoners and fights he had to accompany to so he knew Rictor would not see anything out of the ordinary.
Once Miles was satisfied with the video feed, he turned back to the table that held what he needed. He went over to where Rictor desk. Miles smiled at the fact of how Naïve Rictor was. He trusted Miles a little too much, but Miles would use it to his own advantage. He crouched down where there was a drawer with a key hole. Lodged in between his back teeth he held a pin he used to pick the locks all around the building. Pulling it out and wiping the access saliva off with his fur, he began to pick the hole with tentative movements.
Once he heard the click of the lock, He through the pin on the ground and opened the drawer with a rough pull. He opened it to revile a medallion in a shape of a star. Miles chuckled as he pulled it out and hid it in the inside of his palm and shutting the drawer relocking it. He stood up and looked down at the medallion. He knew he had to wait just a little longer and everything will fall into place, with Michelangelo as the key to his success.
A/N: hello my lovelies! I hope you are all enjoying it so far. This story is starting to go on it's own tracks and turning out to be something I didn't originally plan. But oh well hopefully it's still good! This is what I get for Listening to Dido while writing this. So please leave a comment and review to me how you guys think I'm doing it's greatly appreciated! See you next time!