Title: Validation
Summary: Never the perfect son or student or brother, Raphael does the unthinkable. Away from the lair and into an allegiance with Shredder, honor is replaced by his pronounced desire for validation.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to the TMNT fandom or anything else I might reference. Credit to those who do.
SPECIAL THANKS TO! Bella13blue, my own personal Nemesis! (Because everybody needs one.) MY Nemesis has been a good friend; she's a great soundboard and has been kind enough to encourage and offer suggestions on my work for this fic.
Author's Notes: If you're interested, there's a link on my profile to colored fan art of Raphael's 'awkward morning', in which you can see Shredder, human, with long hair and a duck-themed bathrobe. Why did I make his hair long? *shrug* It seemed appropriate.
This chapter is very short compared to the last, but I'm excited about the next one!
ALSO! Mikey's comment on Raph's lack of 'clothing' was inspired by SSJ2Luke. THANK YOU!
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
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CH 18
It'd be a lie to say that Raphael was unfazed, but he took a moment to blank his face into something unreadable. Almost subconsciously, he raised a hand to the Foot bandana tied around his arm; he adjusted it, rolling the material so that the Foot insignia rested directly against his leathery skin; it seemed important, though he refused to dwell on this action. That shred of evidence out of sight for the time being, he regarded his five visitors; his team of Foot were still concealed, even to his own enhanced eyes.
"Long time no see?" He tried with a shrug, but there was nothing in his tone that suggested any kind of friendly demeanor.
The group looked the rogue turtle over, each trying to work their minds to understand the turn of events.
Mikey was the first to find his voice. "Raphie! You're totally naked!"
Raphael narrowed his eyes in response, his voice low and grungy. "Michelangelo... we're mutants. We're usually naked."
"Not that naked, bro! Where's your gear?! What about your sais? And... whoa, you look wicked weird, like mondo-bizarro without your mask. And what's the doohickey on your face? You look like some crazy comic book character! Can I wear it?"
Don stepped closer to examine the headset, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hn... Fascinating. If I may...-" he reached a hand out to grab the headset.
Raphael promptly shrank back so that he was less visible, now standing partly in the darkened entrance of the museum he'd inhabited a moment ago. Releasing a growl, he grumbled "This ain't one of yer toys, Donatello. Don't touch."
Leo was the next to speak. "Raph... where have you been? What were you doing in the museum? What's the-" Lowering his set of katana, he gave a nod towards the briefcase.
Raph blinked for a moment. He hated feeling caught or trapped. He regarded the item in question and an idea suddenly came to mind. First and foremost, that idea was 'escape,' but his mind went into overdrive and he acted on the first actual plan that came to mind in his current situation. He casually stepped forward, closer to his brothers and human companions. He held out the metal case towards the blue-banded turtle. "I ain't never stole nothin', if that's what yer thinkin', Leonardo," he said honestly. "Here, take a look." He offered the case.
Surprised and a little relieved, Leo sheathed his weapons and took the case into his hands- rather, he tried to.
In the nick of time, Raphael stepped to the side and yelled "Michelangelo, play Keep-Away from Leonardo!" And with that me moved to toss the case.
Leo's mind quickly registered the change in tact; he took a step towards Mikey in favor of intercepting the item.
But... the move was a juke, a fake, and it was executed perfectly. When Raphael saw Leo move accordingly, he registered just how open his eldest brother had left himself. 'Yer gettin' sloppy, Leonardo,' he thought, adjusting his hold on the briefcase and taking it into both hands. Then, pulling the case back, he swung it at Leo -not hard, just enough to jar him. Then, he followed it up with another blow, a backlash of sorts; this hit the leaf-green turtle much harder than the first as it clipped his chin.
In response, Leo's face whipped to the side and he drew back, unsteady. A sudden burst of natural adrenaline coursed through him, allowing him to ignore he pain, even if his gums and jaw throbbed from the intensity of the blow. If he had allowed himself time to focus, he might wonder if his jaw had been either dislocated or broken. Finding his center and regaining balance with the ease that came from years of practice and perfection, he spoke through tightly clenched teeth. "Be careful, everyone. Safety is our number one priority!" His katana brandished once more in anticipation, their shine sent an echo of light that moved across the pavement; his mind began to work. One thought that came to mind was to distract Raphael, possibly by coaxing the gleaming light into his eyes- but the thought died the moment he regarded the headset.
Don's mouth was drawn tight, but his eyes held little more than confusion. He twirled his bo, hoping for all he was worth that his own kind nature and the defensive purpose of his weapon would aid the situation.
Mikey's face was a mask over a mask over a mask over several other masks- how he really felt, it was hard to say, but horror and worry were in there somewhere, twisting his features as fast as the roll of a slot machine. 'Round and round it goes, where it stops, nobody knows!' His nunchaku were poised in each hand and partly tucked back under his arms, tattling his own reluctance to fight... but a sudden hardening in his eyes betrayed the thought: 'I'll do what I have to. This isn't right, but something's gotta be done! One month without Raph nearly tore us apart...'
Casey held a hockey stick idle in one hand; with his other, he pulled his own mask up to rest atop his head. "Raph-" he began, but stopped before completing the thought because another one replaced it. He jerked his head to look at Leo, then Don, then back to Raph. "Guys, ya think that goofy thing on his head is controllin' his mind?"
"Stranger things have happened," Mikey piped up hopefully.
April gave a hesitant nod. "Whatever's going on, it's bad, guys. Real bad. He really wants whatever is in that case!" She pointed unnecessarily towards the object in question.
Raphael narrowed his eyes and gnashed his teeth together. A sudden tremor violently racked itself through his body and he could feel the rush of blood. His temple throbbed. Shit was about to go from bad to worse... He moved the case in his grip, adjusting his hold so that he held it by the handle with only one hand; his other hand pulled into a tight fist and his arms shook in effort to hold himself back.
Just looking at everyone, knowing their accusations and seeing the way they held their guard in preparation to intervene and jeopardize the success of his mission, his breathing picked up. His infrared display went wild, seemingly on its own, quickly adjusting focus and zooming and panning in an auto-piloted attempt to locate the main source of stress for potential eradication. The display honed in on Leo... and stayed.
Raphael grunted, his mind fighting a losing battle and his heart trying to stab its way out of him.
"Something's wrong," Don said suddenly, worried for the way his rogue brother's physical form seemed to seize.
Everyone was torn between closing in and giving Raphael more room to breathe.
"What do we do, Leo?!" Mikey whined. "You're the leader! Tell us what to do!" There was no mistaking the panic in his voice as he blubbered with emotion. He then turned his attention to Don. "Donnie! You're the Fix-It guy, so fix it! Find out what's wrong!"
Both Leo and Don's expressions mimicked one another, expressing a mix of helplessness and apprehension and questionable determination; their confidence was waning, but they held strong.
Before anyone could do anything, Raphael's fierce trembling quelled itself. He stood there, unmoving for a long moment as his breath evened out. Then, with a dark chuckle and a cynical tone, he spoke... "You all think that stupid shit about me. You're scared... that I'm gonna attack ya."
Leo could taste blood in his mouth from the prior assault, but he said nothing, allowing Raph to continue.
"You think I'm this repulsive thing... that does nothin' good... and always fucks up. Ya think- Fuck, ya think I ain't ever in control." He paused, unfurling a fist and bringing said hand to rest alongside his headset, fingers curling around the metal device as he felt for a small lever he knew to be there. Still reigning his thoughts, he allowed himself to further his speech. "Ya even considered that I'm under some kinda spell... but... tonight, I'll prove ya wrong." With that, his thumb depressed a small clutch on the headset and it split open, similar to how a set of faux handcuffs do; he lowered the device and it almost magnetically snapped back together so that it rested around his neck like a collar, the headset switching modes and reading his pulse. This nuance caught him off guard, but he recovered with a particularly vile sneer.
Everyone exchanged worried glances.
Mikey fixed his hold on his 'chucks and gave them a spin. "I won't quit on you, bro," he promised, but his eyes betrayed his own terror.
Raphael only chuckled. "Look at me, Michelangelo," he instructed. "I'm gonna tell you somethin', and yer gonna listen fer once..." He trailed off, waiting until he was certain he had everyone's undivided attention. "You... are a repulsive reptile." He huffed. "You give mutants a bad name. And you, unlike everyone says, are not the heart of the damn Hamato clan! You're the fuckin' comic relief. And the moment everyone stops laughin', ya become useless."
Mike's hands stilled, the motion of his weapons coming to a clumsy stop and lightly battering his own knuckles in the process.
"Take it back, Raph," Leo growled -ordered!, shoulders raised and head low to make himself appear more menacing.
But again, Raphael laughed, harder this time. "Y'know how I know we ain't family anymore?" he asked suddenly, his tone wistful.
The other three turtles all drew in hitched breaths.
"Because... fer one, yer assumin' shit, and yer wrong. Fer two, yer holdin' weapons against me, and I ain't even properly armed- how's that fer honor? And C-"
"Three," Don corrected quietly, wincing when the word left his mouth.
"C," Raph continued anyways. "Yer doin' exactly what we always did with the bad guys..." His voice softened as that sentence slipped away. His own eyes took on a strange look of understanding that hadn't quite been present before. For a fraction of a second, he felt as if he'd learned -and truly accepted- some awful truth... like a child who learns about the impossibility of Santa. But, just as quick as that expression came to light, it vanished.
April seemed to catch on though; having known Raphael on a level not quite as blunt as Casey but somehow more personal than the other turtles, she understood, and she looked horrified. "You mean-"
"Yeah," Raph said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner; he scuffed his foot and immediately stopped himself from continuing the action. Willing himself to voice his thoughts, he spoke, his tone dry with cosmic revelation. "Ya cornered me, made an assumption, and then ya let me talk... thinkin' that I'd reveal some kind of master plan ta ya, but... I ain't got one. I'm not the bad guy here. -In fact, you... are the freaks who lack fuckin' honor!" With a scream, his blood pressure escalated in scale and pushed him overboard; he felt the sudden need to flee. He took advantage of their shock and hurt as he sought an opening and bolted.
Casey was the first to compose himself, having been the least affected. "Oh, no ya don't, buddy! Ya ain't gettin' away so easily!" With that, he gave chase.
One by one, the turtles and April followed his lead.
As Raphael ran ahead, his mind divided, focusing on getting away while hoping his four Foot ninja would head back to Central as he'd previously ordered. After all, he wasn't the fastest, the smartest, or the most tactical among the foes he would be going up against.
But his mind reeled in retaliation, his thoughts pulling him further into a state of assurance, if not over-confidence. 'But they ain't as bull-headed as I am. I got dis. Just gotta keep going.'
He ran til his lungs hurt from exertion, his heart seemed to pump battery acid. His body burned with effort.
He ran until his mind blanked out and he nearly forgot why he was running in the first place, but the feel of the briefcase in his grasp was a good reminder.
He ran until his legs grew tired despite his stamina, and he was more stumbling than running, clumsy with his effort to push his body beyond its limits.
Finally stopping, panting, nearly out of breath, he took in his surroundings and couldn't help the grin that formed. He'd run on instinct to the familiar construction site.
Even though the others were undoubtedly behind him -'Too little, too late'- he knew he had the upper-hand in this environment. The other turtles had only been through in passing, but Raphael had made it somewhat of a safe place where he could go to be alone or meet up with Hobo-Joe.
His eyes quickly found a large unfinished scaffold. "Only one way to go," he said, a bitter smile pulling at his face. "Let's see how high you can go, Leonardo," he added, closing the distance between himself and the structure. With affinity, he began to climb.
'Hand- hand with briefcase! Foot, foot. Repeat.' He pulled himself up.
He was two and a half stories up by the time his pursuers - unwittingly minus one human- poured onto the scene.
Upon arrival, Leo surveyed the situation and adopted a strange expression that no one bothered to read, too focused on the emerald-skinned turtle that ascended. Taking a deep breath, the blue-banded ninja said: "He's going up. There's only one way down..."
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[Another one down! More to come!]