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 -example: Flappy Bird. 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: A little more on Raph here, and... I'm edging towards another plot point. Within the next couple chapters, I plan to give Raphael an upgrade. For a preview, I've done amateur fan art; the link can be found on my profile.
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
...
CH 23
At long last, the door was opened and Raphael moved to his feet unsteadily, his movements hurried and less than graceful as he held his weight and slid his feet apart for better balance. Like any other caged animal, he was ready to bite the hand that fed him.
That is, until he realized just who his pending visitor was.
Raphael had expected Shredder (or, if he'd forgone the armor: Soupy), or even a mad scientist of some sort. He was prepared to wring someone's neck, or at least offer a good thrashing- to the best of his current abilities, of course.
But what Raphael wasn't prepared for, was an unmasked teen to hobble in on a pair of crutches, a backpack slung over his shoulder as if he'd just got off from school. Looking at him, the teen was familiar enough. He could recognize the face, the shaggy brown hair, and the physical build, but what the turtle struggled to process was the crutch-aided limp, the weak-muscled squint of the teen's right eye, and the array of stitches across his forehead that cut through his eyebrow and angled down his temple.
Raph's aggression abated and his expression turned blank, dazed, unable to quite grasp what he was seeing.
The teen hobbled further in and shut the door behind himself. "You okay?" he asked, pulling the crutches out from under himself and bracing himself on one leg as he set his aid aside and dropped into a chair.
Raph searched his memory vault for the young Foot's name. 'Gunner,' he thought, unable to get his throat to work without strain. He pulled the name to recognition, but he still couldn't quite place the kid's condition.
The teen flashed an awkward smile. "Hey, Raphael. Remember me? Gunner? Sure, ya do." He slipped his backpack from his shoulder and moved it into his lap; he unzipped it and procured a brown paper sack. "You're probably hungry, but I think you'll appreciate this a bit more than food." He held the sack out towards Raphael who took it in turn.
Slightly bewildered, Raph sat on the edge of the bed, facing Gunner. He could feel the odd weight of the sack. Anger dismissed in the company of the young Foot, Raphael opened the bag and peered inside. His breath hitched at what he saw and he immediately shoved a hand in and fished out the contents. From that bag he drew out a pair of pronged blades with leather-bound hilts. A set of sais he was nostalgically familiar with. Having the items in his possession, he visibly relaxed.
The teen grinned widely before offering an explanation. "Master Shredder's got me doing Inventory til my busted leg heals up. Three more weeks of being laid up. On the bright side, I have full access to everything in stock, hence why I was able to get your sais. Plus... all this free time on my hands gives me a chance to hone my super slick ninja reflexes."
'You don't mean...? Kid, yer still doin' that Flappy Bird thing?' Raphael groaned; the sound instantly agitated his throat and caused him to wince.
Gunner blinked at the turtle. "Careful. I think they did some kind of surgery. You'll have to ask the doc later. Until then, you can borrow my notebook. You must have a ton of questions, huh?" With that, he delved back into his backpack and pulled out a notebook and pen. He passed them to Raph.
Raph set his sais on either side of him as he accepted the proffered items. He dimly noted the cover of the book labeled American Government. Assuming the kid needed the book for schoolwork, he opted to hand it back, but his offer was denied.
"No, trust me, you'll get more use out of it than I will. I'm flunking. Just use it to write stuff. It's gotta be driving you nuts not to talk."
Rolling his eyes, Raph flipped the book open to a blank page and sloppily scripted a series of comments and queries. He spent a couple minutes writing, and when he lifted his head to regard the teen, Gunner was thumb-deep in his phone, working Flappy Bird between the pipes. Seeing this, Raph narrowed his eyes, rolled the notebook up like a newspaper and swatted the teen in the shoulder.
"Wha? I died! Raphael, that's not fair! I was five points away from beating my high score!" He huffed, frustrated, before noticing the notebook. "Sorry," he grumbled, taking the notebook and reading what Raph had written.
I'm hungry. My throat hurts. And I have to piss. I need access to the fuckin' bathroom. And I need answers. Last thing I knew, I was at the Barracks. What have I missed? And what the fuck happened to you? You weren't injured last I saw ya.
Gunner read through the words before nodding. "I was supposed to bring you food, so I can do that much. Just thought you'd want your sais first; I know I would if I was in your shoes- not that you wear shoes. And I just got back from doing Inventory, so I had access anyways. As for your mighty need to urinate, uhhhh... I can get you a cup or a bottle..."
Raph had already been glaring; now his glower intensified.
Seeing this, the teen tried again. "Or, you could just use the bathroom. The door's unlocked. As for what happened to you and your throat, ya gotta ask the doc."
Raph quickly snatched the notebook again and scribbled.
Why was I locked in ta begin with? Pissed me off...
"Oh, it wasn't just to keep you in. It was to keep others out. Some of the guys didn't wanna leave you alone, and you needed rest. You could have died, or something."
Having some of his questions answered, Raph relaxed a little more, but he was far from satisfied. He reached over and roughly smacked the teen's casted leg, urging him to keep talking.
"Gah! Okay, I get it. You asked about my injury." He shifted to pull his leg out of range of another plausible assault. "It's a little fuzzy now, but... a few weeks back, when we went out for that stealth mission-"
Raph nodded as he listened. 'That's right. Gunner was one of the four Footies I'd taken with me.'
"I got caught up with that redhead," the teen said, his face twisting with annoyance and indignity. "She caught me right here," he pointed to the uneven row of stitches that marred his face. "She got me with a brick. Knocked me out. I don't even remember what happened to my leg; I just know that the woman did it."
Raph dropped his head into his hands, his face taking on a look of disbelief. 'April wouldn't- couldn't do something like that. Then again, she never did show up at the contruction site. And Shredda did say somethin' about April injuring one of the Foot, but I thought he was lying. Then again, as far as I know, he hasn't really lied to me. Hasn't really done anythin'. Even my brothers- the... reptiles...- Even they have gone unharmed, just as he promised.' He sighed inaudibly.
"Raphael," Gunner spoke again, sitting up a little straighter. "I'll go get you something to eat, and I'll bring the doc with me. That way you can find out how soon you can get back in action. It's no fun being out of commission, believe me. And with me already doing Inventory, I'd hate to see what boring job they'd saddle you with." He paused, looking thoughtful before plastering a grin onto his face. "I'll be back. Until then, hone your ninja reflexes!" With that, he tossed his phone onto the bed beside Raph and carefully got to his feet; he zipped and pulled his backpack on and grabbed for his crutches. Finally, he turned to the door and made a hobbling exit.
Raph just sat there, expression decidedly blank. He honestly wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but he supposed the sooner he got his answers from the doc, the better. And so, with nothing better to do, he pulled Gunner's phone into his hand, thumbed the lockscreen away and tapped on the Flappy Bird icon. The cheerful screen presented itself and he pressed Play.
One tap later, the bird was doing a nosedive into the ground.
Raph narrowed his eyes.
'Damn bird. Looks more like one of those funky fish from Mario. Don't look nothin' like a damn bird.'
A few taps into the next round, and he came to a set of pipes. He guided the bird between them and heard the telltale chime of success, only to smack into the next wall.
Raph inhaled deeply, already getting fairly frustrated. But, with a slow exhale through his nostrils, he tried again.
And again.
And again.
'How many birds am I gonna kill?! I fuckin' hate this game. It's not even a game! It's a slaughter! And gravity's the fuckin' murderer!'
One more try, and...
-Chime. Flap, flap, flap. Chime. Flap, flap...
'C'mon, you stupid bird. Between the damn pipes. Don't you dare fuckin' die on me.'
-Chime. Flap, flap, flap... CRASH!
And... at long last, Raphael lost his patience. He tightened his grip on the android before hurling it across the room; it smashed against the wall and clattered to the floor. He stared at the phone with his face twisted into a scowl. After several seconds, the expression fell away and a small pool of guilt formed in the pit of his empty stomach.
'I didn't break Gunner's phone, did I?' In truth, he felt bad, knowing that the teen would be laid up with little to do, and now even his phone might not be a source of viable entertainment. Reluctantly, Raph got to his feet and sauntered over to the phone; he knelt down and picked it up, looking it over. To his relief, it appeared unharmed. Not a crack to be seen, courtesy of the protective casing. He swiped his thumb over the screen and was met with the sight of his Flappy Bird score.
A proud 38 beamed at him.
Phone in hand, he shuffled back to the bed and took his seat. He felt the UVB light wash over him, and he wouldn't deny that the warmth was something he could get used to. Reaching back to rearrange and fluff the pillow on the bed, he laid back and dropped the phone next to his sais before pulling the notebook to him. He bent his knees at a sharp angle and rested the book against his legs like an easel before pressing the pen to a blank page.
Doc, yer already pissin' me off. Ya better start explainin'. NOW.
No sooner had he finished the sentence, and the door was once again opening. Gunner limped in with mild difficulty, crutches gone as he carried a dining tray; behind him trailed an older man with greying hair and thick glasses. The man wore a lab coat with a nametag that boasted his degree and name. But Raph only bothered to note the name.
Professor Jordan Perry.
Gunner set the tray on a counter near the sink before approaching Raph and reclaiming the phone. "I'll give you and the doc some time alone." He looked the turtle in the eye for a long moment before shifting his gaze to glance at the pair of sais. It was a wordless gesture, but Raph got the meaning loud and clear.
'Just in case...'
In case of what, Raph couldn't be sure. But if Gunner was wary, Raph wouldn't let let his guard down. He watched Gunner make a slow and awkward exit before he sat up and squared his shoulders. Gripping the notebook, he thrust it towards the professor, willing him to read the note.
Perry looked startled for a moment before adjusting his glasses. "Demanding for a reptile, aren't you? Very well. I'm Professor Jordan Perry, former worker and spokesman for the company TGRI, and-"
Raph waved him off, exasperated that he wasn't getting the information he wanted. He drew the pen to paper once more, shoulders hunched as he scribbled in a frenzy.
I don't need yer whole life's story. Start with what landed me in the fuckin' infirmary. And what's wrong with my throat, ya jackass?!
Reading the note, the professor stared dumbly before offering an answer. "In the short time you've been here, it seems as if your mutated body has self-adapted to the warmer temperatures in your living quarters. Going from the fair heat to extreme cold put you in a state of brumation, which is similar to hibernation in mammals. While this is normal in reptiles, your mutated humanoid self appears to have registered the dormant state as a coma."
Raph narrowed his eyes and pointed a lone finger to his throat before mouthing a silent threat that failed to come off as malicious as he intended, but at least it goaded the man to keep going in his explanation.
"Your throat may very well be tender until it heals. You see, during a rather thorough examination, I found abnormal cell growth along your esophageal lymphoids. The tissue around the area was promptly cut, removed and sent out for testing. However, the actual soreness inside is most likely due to an improperly lubricated camera that passed through-" He trailed off, a puzzled expression on his face. "You're far more human-like than I thought possible. I honestly thought I'd have more room to work, though your esophagus is as narrow as any human's I've encountered. You'll have to forgive me for the camera scraping against your vocal chords. I suspect it will heal soon enough, though your state of brumation seemed to have slowed the healing process."
Raph listened to the professor's explanation, but he only took in the shortened version of it.
Essentially, his body's weakness to the cold was what landed him in the infirmary with a mad scientist poking and prodding at his anatomy. As for why he couldn't talk and his throat felt on fire, it was because the douchebag shoved a camera down his throat and cut a piece out of him.
The injustice infuriated him. He clenched his teeth, and his shoulders shook with pent up aggression and building stress.
"Now, now, turtle, we'll have none of that. I have full permission to sedate you if you give me any trouble."
'I should wring yer neck,' Raph thought bitterly. 'I don't care how fast ya think you could sedate me; I could put ya down with a single punch. And I should!'
And Raphael would have, had the re-opening of that door not caught his attention. And the person that entered...
Raphael glared heatedly, just barely managing to force back the growl that wanted to bubble forth as Shredder approached, unarmored.
Unable to use his voice, Raphael resorted to the notebook.
FUCK YOU, SHREDDA!
He flashed the words angrily at the intruding man.
"Oh, Raphael? Are you not going to call me 'Soupy?' In our time apart, I dare say that I missed the fond nickname, the banter, the callous mannerisms you exibit..."
Palming his face in exasperation, Raph scribbled again.
I like Soupy. But right now, I ain't likin' you so much. Ya gotta earn it, dumbass. Respect ain't somethin' ya just give out
Shredder read the words and considered them before raising a thin brow. "So, you do respect me? And you admit it..." He didn't bother holding back the smirk. "I shouldn't be surprised, not after all the trouble I've gone through for you."
Pen on paper, writing to combat speech.
Ya didn't do me any favors. All ya did was fuck up and prove that I ain't so expendable. Ya need me fer somethin'. Now quit dodgin' the subject and tell me what the fuck it is!
The Shredder read the words as they were presented and straightened his posture to give off a more professional air. He drew in a deep breath before responding. "Very well, Raphael. I'll be honest. My kindness to you is mutually beneficial. I would not act without having something to gain in turn, as you can imagine. I have a special task lined up for you. There is a very short window of opportunity for you to accomplish this, and you must be prepared in one week. I know your body is weakened from a lack of activity, and after you eat-" he gestured to the tray of food- "you will start in on training and physical therapy." He paused and directed his attention at the professor. "You are lucky, Mr Perry. Raphael's consciousness very well may have saved your life. Had he remained unconscious, I would have-"
Not wanting to hear the threat voiced, the professor cut in: "Thank you, sir. I must say, this turtle is a fascinating study, and-"
Shredder narrowed his eyes in distaste at what he heard. "The turtle's name is Raphael. You'd do best to remember that. You may be the professor and a doctor, but I assure you, even he outranks you here. Raphael's value exceeds your own. Do not test my patience with your ability to behave as if you are... obtuse."
If Raphael had plans to write anything down, he'd forgotten them. He could only sit there and stare with wide eyes as he worked to comprehend what had just transpired. 'Did Shredda just stick up fer me? What the shell kind of Twilight Zone episode did I just drop inta?' Pushing his thoughts away to be examined another day, he stretched languidly and gauged the soreness of his body before glancing towards the tray of food. His stomach growled in anticipation.
Eating... Training... Then a pending mission.
In that single moment, Raphael decided that if he focused on one thing at a time, living at Central could be bearable. One thing at a time. No more distractions. He'd never gone into something with half-assed attempts, and he wasn't going to start now. First, food. Then, training. In one week, a pending task.
For now, any other thoughts eluded the mutant, and he found himself content with the single-minded short-termed goals that would come with instant gratification.
'Speakin' of instant gratification... Still gotta piss. S'gonna be like puttin' a crack in the Hoover Dam, I swear.' With that thought, Raphael tossed his notebook aside, got up and made his way towards the exit; the bathroom was practically calling his name. Despite everything that had transpired and the fact that his throat burned with little provocation, he was in a fairly decent mood. Borderline Cloud Nine. As his thoughts settled on his priorities and the prospects of whatever mission he'd be sent on in the next week, he almost smiled.
Almost.
Part of him felt like he was forgetting something important, some big internal struggle that should've been eating away at him. But, when he felt the familiar rumble of his empty stomach, he concluded that whatever it was, it either wasn't important, or he'd deal with it later. For now, he was concerned with relieving his bladder, scarfing down some grub, and getting back to training under Shredder's approving gaze.
In one week, he'd be ready to take on the world.
...
[Another chapter down.]