Chapter 9: Sliding Into Apathy

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"And I don't want to slide into apathy

And I don't want to die in captivity

But these monsters follow me around

Hunting me down, trying to wipe me out…"

- 'Monsters', Something For Kate.

.:…:.

Raphael was unloaded with all of the other animals at their next destination, and the cycle began again.

He still had no idea where he was, but the set-up was very similar to the last place – the animals were stored during the day in a small, cramped room, and at night they were taken out to a slightly larger 'display room'. This place was somewhat more seedy than the last venue – it looked more like the basement of an abandoned building than a legal function room. But the location didn't really matter: the audience was just there for the spectacle, the adrenaline rush of dominance.

Raphael's life slipped disturbingly quickly into a pattern, a repetition of long, darkened days and brief, artificially brightened nights, his eyes never adjusting to their painful glare.

He didn't want to get used to the pattern. He was terrified of how quickly it wore him down – not being able to fight back in any way. And he didn't like the way the Doctor looked at him on the occasions she was called in to check up on the animals. He saw the finger tapping thoughtfully against her chin as she examined him through the bars, the light flashing off her glasses, and he knew she was mentally calculating body mass, nutrient levels, reducing him to a series of equations… pondering the probability of him losing his powers of speech altogether. Not damn likely, he wanted to tell her, but then he thought – if they unstitched me now, what would I say? Would it even make a difference?

He was kept on the IV when not in the display room. His inner elbows became bruised and marked; they caught his eye one evening and caused him to realise, with something of a shock, that he must have been stuck in that cage for more than just a few days.

The IV kept him going, but it was barely enough for sustenance. The constant hunger was one thing he couldn't get used to; he was kept teetering on the brink of it, his guts feeling shrunken and strange for the lack of solid food. It left him weakened and distracted.

On one of the countless days, before the evening show, a couple of men came in with large buckets of water and scrubbing brushes. One of them started on the dogs, pulling down cages one by one and muzzling the animal before washing it roughly and shoving it back in.

For a brief second Raph almost got his hopes up – but of course, they weren't going to let him out of his cage. He'd proven himself too dangerous for that. Instead, the second man attached a hose to a faucet on one wall, then came to stand in front of Raph's cage with a bored expression. He pressed down on a trigger nozzle and a jet of icy cold water sprayed out and hit Raph just above his plastron. He jerked away from it in reaction, but the jet of water just followed him as the man hosed him down. It stung a little as the water dribbled down his face and over his mangled, cracked lips. But then a few precious drops seeped into his mouth between the stitching, and landed on his parched tongue. His eyes actually fell closed in unintended bliss at the sensation, and he struggled to draw in more liquid through his lips. His throat worked to swallow.

When he opened his eyes again he found the man with the hose looking at him thoughtfully. The man made no comment then, but the next day a pail of water was placed in a corner of Raph's cage, and he found he could drink again, after a fashion; painfully, a few drops at a time, but it was something.

.:…:.

During the long periods of darkness, Raphael began to dream that the bars of the cage were gradually drawing closer to him, shrinking the space until the cold metal was pressing up against him on all sides. His chains grew tighter, and began to strangle him. He couldn't get out he couldn't get out he couldn't…

He would awaken, sweating and shaking, to find the cage the same size it was originally. He still felt like he was suffocating.

.:…:.

He was packed up and moved again, and he lost track of how many times he was moved after that. Different buildings, different windowless rooms, but the faces remained more or less the same.

.:…:.

Not all the faces blended into the crowd. Raphael found it disconcerting when individuals seemed to jump out at him, even make eye contact.

There was one this one girl, on a night like any of the others. She was dressed all in black, and she had black hair, a stud in her nose, and kohl outlining her dark eyes. She held a soda in one pale hand, sipping from it occasionally, and gazing up at him in his cage. She watched him for ages as the audience trickled in and gathered around. She didn't look impressed, but for some reason Raph got the feeling that the cold look in her eyes was not directed at him.

When Darmonaz stepped up onto the platform to stir up the crowd for the night, her slight frame slipped between figures until she was close to the front. Just a few metres away from Raph, and by now he was watching her as intently as she was watching him.

And she was looking at him like… she saw him. Not just another animal, but him. Maybe he was getting desperate, just imagining things, but when they brought the taser out he thought he saw her eyes narrow and her fingers tighten around her drink. He lost her in the first feral surge of the crowd as the taser made contact with the exposed skin on his arm. He struggled not to curve over himself, trying to stay upright, and searching for her face again. When he found it he latched on to it with a ridiculous hope. Jesus, she saw him, and he locked his gaze on her as Darmonaz gave him another brief zap. Held it like a lifeline.

It was the closest he'd come to communication in many, many days.

"Hrnn - !"

The cold anger and outrage on her face as she watched the man with the taser reminded him of Leo. Please, he was speaking to her in his mind, I miss my brothers. My father is probably worryin' himself sick and tryin' not ta show it. I'm just like you. He was searching desperately for that spark of recognition in her. I miss ridin' my bike. I wrote crappy adolescent poetry when I was younger. I secretly love cheesy nineties films. Please… Please…

He didn't even know what he was asking her for, but afterwards he was almost grateful that his mouth was fastened shut. Otherwise he would have been begging out loud. And Raphael did not beg.

The girl disappeared before the show was over, and the memory of the look of pure disgust she shot at Darmonaz as she was leaving was enough to get Raph through another few days.

.:…:.

Sometimes he tried to meditate. He had enough spare time to kill and nothing better to do. At first he was attempting to contact Leo again. He told himself it was because he needed to let his brother know that his location was being changed every so often, but really it was because he needed to hear a friendly voice. Hell, he'd kill to hear one of Leo's patented lectures right about now.

But as the days went by and he still couldn't master that mental reaching-out, his meditation changed, turned inward. Instead of searching for Leo, he looked for himself, trying to find some vestiges to cling to in this place, trying to stay sane.

He would not let them reduce him to an animal. And if meditation was the only way he could fight back, then that was damn well what he was going to do, no matter how much he's complained about the activity in the past. Work with what ya have, he told himself firmly.

But he didn't always like what he found in his long, dark sessions. He thought of his brothers and Sensei a lot, of course – that was inevitable, with a family as small and tight-knit as theirs. But when he was looking for some sort of comfort or strength, more and more often he remembered instead the way his gentlest brother flinched at his fist raised in intimidation, or the way his most hyperactive brother cowered away when Raph flew into one of his rages after a prank pushed him just that little bit too far. He tried to banish the images from his mind, let them fall away as his father had taught him, but they were increasingly difficult to block out.

One night, when all the animals were locked away after the show, Raph watched as Max threw a dripping, bloody chunk of meat into the tiger's cage. The tiger pounced on it immediately. Still stirred up by the recent exposure to the bright lights and the crowd, the tiger tore into the meat ferociously, shaking it in his jaws. Drops of red spattered the bars and stained his fangs. Raph saw the tiger's long, pink tongue extend and lick the blood from the fur around the muzzle.

Raphael had a particularly vivid dream that night. His familiar dream of the shrinking cage segued into a rainy night on one of the rooftops of Manhattan.

Prey. There was prey here.

The adrenaline of the chase pumps through his veins like a drug. He can sense every raindrop as it hit his skin.

Eyes narrow as he locks on to his prey. There. Attack.

Movement of muscles. The breath moving in and out of his lungs. His prey falls, and he gives a savage roar of triumph. Brown eyes look up at him from a blue mask, shocked, bewildered. Horribly, Raphael feels his dream-self smile.

He leans over his fallen prey, and his sai, no, his claws rip into the exposed flesh of the throat.

The prey's strangled cry of pain is quickly cut off as his windpipe is opened up, and blood sprays out. The body twitches and flops in the last throes of life, then goes still.

"Raph," Leo's dead body rasped, impossibly. "Raphael…"

Dream-Raph licked at the drops of blood that had landed on his lips. Then he bent over the corpse of his prey, and began to feed.

.:…:.

Raph jerked awake from that dream to find himself screaming. Or trying to scream. The noises coming from behind his stitched lips were awful, desperate and animalistic, and they hurt, but he couldn't seem to stop. He lurched to his feet inside the pitch-black cage, tripping on the chains around his ankles. He came up against the bars, hard. For a few seconds, before he could get control of himself, he threw his body against them, frantically searching for a way out which he knew wasn't there. Like an animal in a trap.

Eventually he managed to stop his own muffled cries. His breath hitched as he settled back on the cold floor, the adrenaline leaving his body in a debilitating rush. He was shaking. In his frantic movements the IV line had become partially dislodged, and it stuck out now at an uncomfortably strange angle.

God, he was losing it. What sort of sick freak dreamed of murdering his brother? What sort of sick freak almost carried through with it?

Animal. The word thudded in his mind, keeping time with his heartbeat, relentless.

Animal.

.:…:.

Another town, another night. Max helped to push Raph's cage out into the spotlights. The man had stopped antagonising Raphael a while ago, and now just treated him the same as he treated all the other animals. Raph actually missed his stupid insults – at least they'd meant that someone was talking to him, and expecting him to understand. These days Max was just indifferent.

The cage wheels were locked into place when they reached their designated spot. Darmonaz ordered the doors open for the audience. Raph grasped the bars with his chained hands, leaning on them to support some of his weight. No point in sitting. They'd just get him up again.

Medium crowd tonight, Raph surmised as they made their way in. Lookin' for their little fix of violence and superiority. Just your average evening in the freakshow.

When one of the fighting dogs was removed from the ring, blood dripping from the remnants of its paw, the crowd started to shift towards Raph's cage with herd mentality, and Darmonaz recognised his cue. His horror stories about the 'giant turtle monster' had grown even more outlandish over time, but apparently the audience would swallow anything. They just needed an excuse to get angry at something.

Weird how you can never really get used to pain, Raph thought hazily, actually managing to dodge the next jab of the taser towards his plastron. Tonight wasn't going too badly; at this rate he certainly wasn't going to finish the night on his knees, which was a good sign. He'd just have a few more bruises and burns to add to his collection.

A fresh wave of pain sent him reeling, and the sea of vicious faces blurred together below him as he spun. They were building up to the finish now, and he grit his teeth together behind closed lips. He tried to keep his chin jutted up, defiantly. He had lifted his eyes to glare at Darmonaz when he saw it.

… No. I must be hallucinating. That can't be…

For a second there, right at the back of the crowd on the far side of the room, he thought he'd seen…

Casey Jones.

Casey-fucking-Jones.

.:…:.

"Alright, Leo, I'm in. Got my ticket at the door 'n everthing. Even more freakin' expensive than that last place we tried. Looks like it's in full swing; pretty busy."

"Good work, Case. What do you see?"

"Well, they gotta a few animals here, so it could be right, but… hang on, somethin's goin' on towards the back."

"Just try not to attract attention."

"…"

"Casey?"

"Shit. Leo…"

"Casey, what is it?"

"It's… he's here."

A second of charged silence.

"Alright, pull out. We'll – "

"No! Leo, they're… they're hurting him. And he's… jesus…"

"… Is he in any danger?"

"Well… I guess not really, but – "

"Then we go in tonight, when everyone's gone."

"I can't – I can't stand here and watch this. It's sick, man."

"Then get out of there. We've got what we needed."

"Alright." Casey's voice shook over the phone line. "… Fuck."

.:…:.

A/n: ... Eep. Honestly, I really hate to leave it there. But I'm going away on a snow holiday with some friends next week, and I'm not sure how much time I'm going to get to write. So expect the next chapter in roughly two weeks time (though I've never been capable of working to schedules, so I'm not making any promises...)

Once again: Reviews are, as we all know, pretty much the coolest things ever. Mucho thankies to everyone for their comments!