Warning: this chapter contains discussion of rape and an attempted rape.

The Purple Dragon grinned at them from behind the door of the cell. Three others were standing around him — one with a shaved head, one with a dragon tattoo circling his eye, and one with numerous piercings. April could feel their eyes roving over her body — her breasts, her backside, her legs. Fear began to rise inside her again, choking and thick.

Don must have seen it too, because his hand closed over hers. She inched closer to him, almost without thinking about it.

"We came here to give you your next shot, freak," Racer said with another sadistic grin. "Can't have you getting too uppity."

His eyes roamed over to April as well. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something between you and your girlfriend?" His grin widened. "Maybe I should make her my girlfriend too."

Don's eyes narrowed, and April could feel anger rolling off him. He was normally so calm and level-headed, but this seemed to be too much for him. "Leave her alone," he said loudly. "Don't touch her."

"Givin' me orders, freak?" Racer said, acting shocked. "You got some guts."

The Dragon with the shaved head was unlocking the cell door, and every clink of metal made April's heart skip a beat. She could feel Don tensing beside her, as if he was coiling to spring to her defense. But he couldn't — she knew he was still half-paralyzed from the last dose of the drug. In this state, he was no match for four Purple Dragons, and they all knew it.

The door clunked open, and the Dragons started filing inside, muttering amongst themselves and still eyeing April hungrily. But the other three didn't make a move while Racer stood at their lead, smirking down at Don as the Turtle trembled and strained to stay upright.

"You already have me for whatever deal you've got planned," Don said. "Just let her go."

"Neither one of you is gettin' out, freak," the Dragon with the piercings said.

"Real chivalrous, ain't he?" Racer said with a grin. "Defending his fair lady, even though he can't even take care of himself. He's practically paralyzed, but he's still thinkin' he can tell us what to do. He's got guts."

His hand snaked out and grabbed a handful of April's hair, twisting it around his fist. April cried out and involuntarily moved toward him, trying to relieve the pressure on her scalp. Don spasmed and tried to crawl toward her, only for the tattooed Dragon to strike him down to the mattress.

"I hate guts," Racer said, letting go of her hair. "I like breakin' people who have 'em. Mace, grab the girl's arms."

Calloused hands closed on April's wrists and twisted her arms up above her head, dragging her off of the mattress. "No!" she shrieked, thrashing against Mace's legs as he pulled her onto the cold concrete floor. Her head was spinning and she felt nauseous at the feel of this Dragon's hands on her. This couldn't be happening. It was all a nightmare — a sick, twisted nightmare born from too much pizza and her innermost fears.

But then she saw Don's eyes — wide, hopeless, wild with anger and fear — and she knew it was all too real. She couldn't have dreamed an expression like that in his face.

Racer was sitting on the mattress beside him, with his hands clamped around Don's throat. April realized with a sickening jolt that he wasn't choking Don — he was forcing the Turtle to watch, holding his head so that he couldn't look away from what was about to happen.

"Pretty girl, ain't she?" he hissed in Don's ear. "She might not be so pretty when my guys are done with her."

"I'm sorry," Don whispered.

Even though it was barely audible, April could hear him clearly.

Then April felt a hand on her breast, twisting and kneading at it painfully. She thrashed against the hand, kicking out at the tattooed Dragon with both her feet. She was desperate now — fear, thick and hot as blood, was flooding her body. She knew there was no way to stop what was happening, but she had to try — had to struggle — had to put up as much of a fight as she could — she clawed at Mace's hands and bucked her body against his legs, but the Dragon with the shaved head seized her legs and began to pry them apart —

"Enjoy the show, Turtle," Racer sneered. "Once we're done with her, you won't even want to touch her again—"

A loud crack rang out through the cell as Don suddenly tore away from Racer's hands, and rammed his head directly into the man's face. Scarlet blood fountained from Racer's nose as he fell to the floor, scrabbling and thrashing against the concrete. He let out a bloodcurdling howl, his fingers clawing desperately at his face.

Don was already halfway off the mattress, his legs trembling as he lurched onto his feet. April didn't know how he was managing it, but by some supreme act of will he was moving his almost-paralyzed limbs enough to walk. His eyes burned with pain and anger, almost enough to make the Dragons not notice that his body was shaking as if he was about to collapse, and that his steps were more like stumbles.

For a moment, the three Dragons seemed to pull back. April felt their hands move from her legs and breast as if she were suddenly red hot, and she felt Mace's grip on her hands loosen, as if he were about to drop her and run. She yanked feverishly at his hands, trying to get loose, trying to get back to Don before they realized how tenuous his ability to move was…

Then a loud crack rang out, and Don collapsed to the ground. Racer was crouched behind him, having struck him down from the back. The Dragon's face was livid under its mask of blood, and his fingers curled on thin air as if he wanted to strangle the half-paralyzed Turtle.

"Freak," he hissed. "Think you can do that to me, do you?"

"No!" April screamed.

"April," Don said desperately, his eyes locking on hers. It was all there in his eyes — regret, desperation, and something else that she didn't recognize…

Racer grabbed the knot of Don's mask, yanking his head upward. Don gasped for breath, his muscles straining.

"So, you don't like us touching her, huh? Gettin' a little jealous? Well, it's your lucky day, freak," he sneered. "You're gonna get your wish. We're not gonna put a finger on the girl."

He let go of Don's head, and the Turtle collapsed back onto the cold concrete floor. He was still moving — trembling and jerking mostly, but still trying desperately to get back to his hands and knees, trying to get closer to her.

"Don!" April sobbed, trying to pull her hands free.

"Dragon Face said we had to keep you alive for our client," Racer hissed angrily. "Didn't say nothin' about you not bein' hurt." A mad, ugly light gleamed in his eyes as he leaned down to whisper in Donatello's ear. "So you get to take the girl's place, freak."

April's eyes widened as Racer stood up, and motioned over the two Dragons who had been trying to rape her. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant.

Not Don.

Racer pulled out a small box, and extracted a syringe full of a bluish liquid. With no fanfare, he jammed it into Don's muscular thigh, extracting a pained grunt from the Turtle as the plunger was depressed, flooding his system with the drug. "Don't want you struggling too much," he said with a sadistic smile. "Though a little struggle is always the icing on top. So I hope you can move at least a little, just enough to make it fun."

Don's trembling became less as the drug took effect, and his shaky movements diminished. Soon he was practically limp on the floor, his eyes darting frantically towards April once again. She wanted to get to him — to protect him from what they both knew was coming next — to keep Racer from hurting him, for just one more minute…

"Darts, Eye, grab his arms and pull him onto his knees," Racer ordered. "Then bend him over. He'll regret messin' with the Purple Dragons when I'm done with him."