A/N: I should mention, this is heavily based on the 2003 cartoon series, but can be interpreted any way you want. Also, I may have taken some inspiration from an old Teen Titans episode and I think it'll be obvious which one that is very soon ;)

The Shredder was well aware they would fail. The turtles were always more brutal - stronger, more powerful (his words, not Don's) - when their disowned brother was around. The blood shed had been particulary horrendous tonight, and Shredder almost had an air of amusment about his while Karai elaborated on their failure of a mission.

The hulking man sat at his throne, the torches dimly lit and casting an ugly orange over his armor. Fingers clacked agaisnt his arm rest, listening and thinking all at once before Karai concluded with the death toll. Ten survivors out of fifty. The purple dragons had been taken out with barely a struggle. The weapons were gone and so was the profit they'd have brought in. Shredder - Don dared to hope from his place at the back of the room - didn't seem overly concerned. But then he waved his hand and told his Karai to leave the room. He wanted to have a word with the turtle.

Oh fuck me, Don cringed mentally, forcing his chin up as he walked down the wide aisle. Karai passed by him and her face softened for a fraction of a second. She left through the large doors and Don was alone, kneeling at Shredder's throne with his head bowed and one arm draped over an extended knee. The humilation of the pose had long left him.

"So you fail yet again," Shredder's voice was low but it broke through the quiet of the lair like broken glass. Don forced himself not to flinch. "As with the following months, you seem to be failing quite a bit. Baxter has told me how you'e been handling your duties beside him as well. Am I too assume you still have The Foot's best interst at heart?"

The final statement was dripping with an edge as sharp as a blade. Of course, they both knew the answer to that. No, not really. Don would rather be off relaxing on a beach with a mimosa in his hand and sunglasses on his face instead of this black cloth. But Shredder continued on with his speech, danger behind every word. Don could only think back to his interaction with Rapheal and the way his sai had been so close to digging into his throat. Had he not-

"Am I speaking to myself, turtle?"

The spitting insult broke Don out of his thoughts and he cursed himself, quickly bowing his head once more. "No, Master. Apolgies."

"I am begining to wonder if keeping you alive is worth this mess," Shredder continued. "It seems your old family has fully embraced turning away from that miserable rat's code of honor. It's becoming tedious, these losses. And you've done little alongside Baxter to prove your own worth. Your head in a box might appease the turtles..." He paused and Don could only guess what kind of expression tainted his face. The Shredder used to order Karai to go into great detail about his brothers - er, ex-brothers? - would plead for Don to return to them. Then, he seemed more than intrigued when they began to treat him the same as any other enemy. Now, Karai had indulged The Shredder about Rapheal's inent to actually kill him. To Don's surprise, this seemed to bore The Shredder greatly.

"What use do I have for a pawn who riles my enemies to the point of seeing nothing but red?"

I'm not the one who wanted to leave in the first place! Don wanted to yell. I'd rather hide out in the lab all day with the talking head!

"Well? You have nothing to say in defense of you life?"

"No, Master," Don merely replied.

The Shredder made a noise in his chest, bored maybe and told Donatello to return to his work. Don stood, strangely empty and wishing maybe he had jsut ended it all right here, before padding off into the dark. He was no longer shackled to an escort. The ninjas that stood at ready, like knights posted in a castle, didn't bother to sneak glances at him anymore. No one cared. Don didn't care. He just made his way to the bight, flourescent lab where Baxter was floating in his cylinder of bubbling liquid, robotic arms pulling vials from the shelves as he read the labels in quick succession. He turned when the turtle came in, his metal body buzzing as it propelling him around to face his asssitant.

"Ah, so he returns," came the smug reply. Baxter loved when Don went on his feild trips. "How are the boys? You look like you had fun."

Don ignored him, pulling a first aid kit from under one of the cupboards and getting to work sterilizing and bandaging his cuts. He tried not to think of Rapheal's flaming eyes or the hatred that resided there. Baxter's voice was annoying enough to help with that.

"Ouch. Poor thing. Looks like you got a bit roughed up? I heard about the shipment, by the way. Surpised your still here."

Don rolled his eyes, pulling the bandage apart with his teeth and wrapping the rest around his wrist. It was bruising a bit, dark blue agaisnt olive green. "Haven't I lost three others?" Bitterness seeped into his tone, and Don couldn't help but feel sick satisfaction as he said, "Unlike you, I get to make mistakes."

"If you're trying to antagonise me, turtle, I'm afraid I'm in much too good a mood to be bothered. Perhaps you'd like to hear why?"

Ew. Don could hear Baxter's own satisfaction, not unlike his own, dirty and bubbling up from his throat. The scientist's metal body wheeled back to the shelves and he drove down himself to the computer that lit up half the wall. A few lightening fast keyboard strokes later, and a profile was brought up: a catalouge of dna seqeunces and some compounds listed below it in small but heavy text. Don's blood ran cold.

"You said I wouldn't have to do this for another year!" Don growled, his anger getting the best of him.

"Yes well," Baxter began, his shit-eating grin stretching widely across his face, "I'm afraid I didn't make the last batch as potent as you had wanted. This time, please remember that you need only leave a shallow cut."

Don winced. Last time... had been a very bad accident. The serum in question was an antidote, adminstered once a year to keep a ravenous bunch of nanobots from waking up. From being activated. From tearing their host from the inside out... His kamas suddenly felt burning hot agaisnt his hip.

"Give me a week and it'll be all ready to go," Baxter was saying. "Meanwhile, please continue work on the processor. I want it up and running by tomorrow afternoon."

Don merely turned away, a slight limp in his step as weariness crashed into him. Guilt and horrendoues anger. He had been angry a lot. It use to make him laugh dryly, thinking he was turning into Raph, but then he realized that his was a different kind of anger. The kind that made him want to stick a knife in his throat. But then, Mikey would be dead. And we couldn't have that, now could we?

The Hun had wanted to tag along on his second annual yearly serum run. The brute loved any chance he could get to see the turtles fighting. He loved it, and he loved joining the fray with terrible taunts. Luckily, Karai had volunteered to go instead and Don found himself back under the night sky with her, walking along the edge of a random building and fumbling with the syringe in his belt.

"Do not break it," Karai warned. His fingers stilled along the cap.

"I'm not. Just- I thought you said you had a lead here-"

"Patience, Donatello," the woman ordered. They leveled each other even looks and Don finally let his arm droop.

"So..." he tried to lighten his voice. He never had any real malice towards Karai. She was just a soldier doing her job, and she treated Don exactly as she would any other of her followers. "When will they be here."

Karai strolled up next to him and pointed down into where a van was parked. It was cold and empty and on the side read: Pammy's Ice Cream on Wheels. An dark bank, the building they stood on, was right across the street.

"Should they take the bait," she began, "they'll beleive the van is for here for this," he tapped her foot firmly on the roof, down to where a vault sat. "Survelliance only, but Leonardo is never one to let criminals sit and think, now is he?"

Don looked away, back down to the ice cream truck. He and Karai crocuhed and waited. It was a good hour before her body tensed a miniscule amount. They was a figure in the alley, hard to see unless one looked at the shadows correctly, that dissapeared behind the van. He couldn't tell who was suddenly crouched down below at its tailgate, pressing soemthing to the door and then dissapearing again. Everything went still and Don looked to Karai out of the corner of her eye.

"They planted a bug." she noted quietly. "We'll have to initiate then. I'll distract the two, and you... You know what to do."

Don slipped back from the edge. Karai jumped down into the street. He played with the syringe again, the ugly red liquid shifting in the vial, warm agaisnt his finger tips despite the cold night air. The turtle streaked down the side of the bank and fell into the alley where he made sure to fall into the shadows behind some trash cans. Karai was standing in the street, her swords drawn and her posture feining nonchalance. She knew the subtle ways to piss Leo off, didn't she?

"Come, turtles!" She shouted. Her voice cracked through the air like a whip. "We have unfinished business, don't we?!"

What the hell was she doing? Don thought. He knew she was gonna cause a distraction, but this was just dumb. A ninja star flashed out of the dark and she caught it before it strike her chest. Then another three followed and she dodged deftly, laughing, coaxing what must have been frustration from the throwers.

"No wonder your dear brother left you. Weak, always hiding like your rat."

Oh, Karai, come on, don't bring me into this. And then his brain short-circuited and he almost started to cry. He... had tried not to think of his father. His only parent, who he was forgetting the face of, who was hidden somewhere in a new lair because his own son betrayed him. What Don wouldn't give to feel his arms around him or a comforting pat on the head. Just... fuck, he was crying now. Don let his fabirc dry his face, the streaks glossy and cold.

But Karai's taunts did the trick, and Leonardo was in her face, their swords clashing again as they had a few nights ago. Karai side-wept his legs and kicked him backwards, onto the sidewalk. Another turtle came out, wearing red and dropping in from behind. Don didn't think. He was suppose to stay put sure, but Karai had only just noticed him and Don threw one of his kamas. The handle struck Raph's wrist and one of his own said went loose. His feiry eyes turned to Don, and the turtle could only think: Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, as the brute came barrelling towards him like a charging bull.

Whoosh! Don threw a smoke bomb. Three actually. And the street began to cloud with purple smoke. It was thick and heavy in his throat and it made his eyes burn, but damn it if he wasn't going to use as many as he could to get the hell out of here. It's not like Karai couldn't handle them both anyway. He'd never think Raph to be a kill from behind kind of guy. Not with humans anyway, but there was a lot he was learning about his brothers. Speaking of...

Don had no idea where Mikey was. He had thought he heard him the night of the weapon's shipment, but the orange-banded turtle had been coming out with his remaining siblings less and less. After that faithful night Don tried to inject the life-saving serum and screwed it up royally, Mikey was probably confined to the sewers a lot. It made Don feel like shit as he withdrew the syringe and dissapeared around the van and down the alley, hoping against hope that maybe Mikey wouldn't be here tonight. That maybe they could post-pone until tomorrow? But then Mikey'd be dead. Baxter liked to shorten his time frame dramatically. Give him incentive, you know?

Luckily, Don did find him. Several rooftops over, probably under orders by one of his brothers to stay put and out of the way. He was on a large ventilation system, nunchucks out and twirling through his fingers nervously, watching the smoke that was rising up several streets over. His limbs kept tensing as if he were battling agaisnt himself to go and help. Don took a deep breath, gathered himself, and snuck silently around the system. Mikey was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice. Too concerened to see the back-clad hand sneak up behind him or the arm that suddenly wrapped around hsi throat. The nunchucks were extracted and thrown to the side, and desperate limbs came up to grapple with Don's arm. Don bit his tounge as the syringe was slid into Mikey's neck, a terrified choking sound escaping him. The plunger was pressed and the conents drained. Don backed away as quickly as he could, the whole injection taking mroe more than a second. Mikey fell into a crouched and rolled away, picking up his nunchucks in the process and facing his attacked with a mask of bravado.

When he saw who it was, his face crumpled.