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Chapter 09
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Raph and Leo skirted the rooftops, heading towards their only lead. It would be a long night ahead of them and there was a lot of ground to cover.
They reached a building deep inside the gang's turf, and Leo slowed to a stop. Catching his breath, he looked outwards, contemplating their next move. Raph came up beside him.
"Raphael." Leo said his brother's name in a low, serious tone. "There's something I need to tell you."
Raphael turned and looked squarely at his brother. Leo's tone made him feel nervous. "What is it?"
"Yesterday I meditated, I tried to reach Mike and Don..." He swallowed hard.
Raphael took a step towards Leo and asked again. "What is it, Leo? What did you see?"
"I got a fix on Mike, he was alive. But Raph, he… he…" Leo was shaking uncontrollably, grasping at the words. He swallowed again. "…he was in pain. It was unbearable…"
Raphael's heart sank. Of course they were being tortured mercilessly… he wouldn't expect any less from the bastards. If they had wanted them dead, they would've just ended it during the battle. Mike was still alive though, and that's what they had to focus on. They still had time to get to him.
He placed a hand on either one of Leo's shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. "Leo." Afraid of what the answer might be, he pressed on with the question. "Did you see Donnie?"
Leonardo just shook his head, dropping his eyes to his feet. No contact didn't mean that Donnie wasn't still alive, but considering the shape he was in when they last saw him, it just reinforced the fear even more. He'd had that dream but… well, it was just a dream, it was nothing.
Leo thought back. They'd all heard Don yell, there was no doubt he'd suffered a serious injury. In the few short glimpses he'd caught of his genius brother, Leo had noticed a fair amount of blood running down one side of his body. But it was his last memory of Don that haunted him. He'd seen the purple-banded turtle on his knees, laying down his weapon in defeat. His head was held high, thought Leonardo, he wanted to die with honor.
The memory filled him pride and deep sorrow. Donatello was easily the most docile and mild-mannered one of the group. Donnie the thinker, the genius… the guy who'd rather stick his nose in a book than engage in violence. Though his skills were easily on par with the rest of them, Don didn't live for training quite like the rest of them did. And yet there he was, every bit the true blooded warrior, facing his death without fear. Good for you, Donnie, he thought, you never gave them the satisfaction. Leonardo missed his brother so bad it hurt.
Starting to feel choked up himself, Raphael swallowed it and turned to steel. This didn't change anything. They still had work to do. "C'mon," he spoke to Leonardo gently. "We're gonna find 'em, Leo. Won't stop until we do."
Leonardo took a deep breath and nodded. They pressed on.
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It was forty-eight hours later before Michelangelo returned. At first, the pain was too intense; many, many hours passed before a rational thought could even enter his mind. As sanity slowly returned, he immediately entered meditation as soon as he was able to do so. It was a defense against the pain, to lock his mind away from it. It was a trick they all knew, but until now he'd never really had to put it to use. Forty-eight long hours later, the drug had run its course and he was finally free.
Mike slipped back out of his meditative state and opened his eyes.
"Holy shit." He sighed long. He sat up, slowly. He was lying on the floor of a small room, one door, no windows. He was no longer shackled. There was a bucket of water in the corner.
Michelangelo dragged himself over to the bucket and drank. Filthy though the water was, it tasted as sweet as anything he'd ever had. Thoroughly exhausted, he slumped on the floor, immediately falling into a deep sleep.
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Mike awoke sometime later to hands grabbing him, lifting him up. Instinctively he tried to struggle free, but the strength had been drained from him. Ugh… feel so… so dizzy... He was lifted off the floor too fast, and he lurched forward, retching. One of the guards delivered a swift kick to his stomach, knocking him back onto the floor. He lay there on his side clutching his midsection, coughing and gasping for breath. The guards were laughing.
A grunt came from one of the Foot soldiers. The laughter stopped and once more they resumed lifting Michelangelo. He was roughly pulled to his feet and half-dragged, half-pushed out the door.
After winding through a few long hallways, they eventually came to a familiar room. Great, thought Mike, back to the needle room. One of the guards began opening the shackles on the table in preparation.
Mike started to panic slightly. NO WAY am I going back in there! With a new-found energy, he broke free of the hands that held him and thrust an arm outwards. The side of his hand connected, crushing the guard's windpipe.
Just as he was beginning to toss a kick into another, something struck him in the side.
"AAAAAHHHH!" Mike froze and dropped to the floor. He looked dizzily at the weapon the guard was holding.
"What the hell – a taser? Really? Since when do ninjas use tasers?" He said, bewildered. He was administered another for his trouble.
"AAARRRrrrrghh… all right dude, think you've made your point… uuuuhhhhnnnnn…" Moaning, Mike went limp on the floor. He was still conscious, but his body had become like Jello. A kick landed on the side of his face, another to his thigh. More punches, kicks, laugher. The guards continued pummeling on him for a few minutes. Mike put his arms around his face and head to protect himself and curled up into a fetal position.
Eventually he was aware of being lifted and strapped into that cursed table, but was powerless to stop it. He lay there, body aching, wondering what to expect next.
He didn't have to wonder long. Shortly after the guards left the room, the door opened and his old friend in white scrubs entered. This time, he didn't have a tray, just one big needle in hand. Michelangelo broke into a sweat. No, no, oh fuck, not again! His chest was heaving. C'mon Mikey, keep it together, don't show 'em how scared you are. But it was impossible. By the time the needle entered his arm, Mike was full-on hyperventilating.
Moments later, every sensation in his body exploded in white hot pain.
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