A/N: Surprise? Heh. I'm just ready to wrap up the 'intro'. After this, the set-up is complete and we meet Coyo. Then others.C:

Sciencegal and ZathuraRoy, thanks for bearing with me. It'll pay off; I swear.

CHAPTER 04: IRON

Michelangelo's hand felt small inside Leonardo's hold. Why? They were the same age—nine years—although Leo was considered the eldest. That made him bigger, in a way. Not more important, but destined to guide his brothers.

Like Captain Ryan from Space Heroes!

"Ow," Mikey whined.

Leo glanced behind him then loosed his hand. "So—sorry, Mikey," he said. "I was just thinking about—"

"Space Heroes?"

Leo formed a lopsided smile as his brother yawned, noting how the youngest's feet shuffled through the tunnel water.

"Where are we going anyway?" Mikey asked.

"Well, sometimes nightmares get better if you watch something else before falling sleep again."

"So you're dragging me through tunnels?"

"Just a few."

Mikey groaned then pulled backward. "My feet are cold."

"It's summer. The water isn't that bad."

"Says you! Jeez. Maybe I should've woke Raphy instead…"

Despite a frown, Leo kept a hold of Mikey's sweaty fingers. 'He'll feel better once he sees the sky.'

"Are we there yet, Leo?"

"Actually, yes."

The duo stopped at a large grate. It was rusted, and slime grew over the metal where water flowed through. Beyond that, though, laid an open cityscape. Slowly, Michelangelo's grip loosened. He stepped ahead, eyes round.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Pictures don't do it justice, huh?" asked Leonardo.

"Dude!" Mikey leaped towards the bars, fingers curling around their thickness. "Homes can get that high?"

Leo had no idea which building was in question. They all seemed fit for the clouds.

"It—it's so different from the movies, Leo."

"Yeah," Leo said. "Speaking of, you should cut back on the scary films."

"I like scary movies." Mikey sighed then rested his forehead against the bars. "It—it was just that one. I didn't…I—I—I didn't like the brothers dying."

"I know; I saw you crying." Leo shoved his brother in play. Only, the youngest's gaze remained fixed on the gurgling water flow. "Mikey?"

"You—you'd never leave me like Brad did Conner, right?"

"Mike," Leo placed a hand on Mikey's shoulder, "it was just a movie."

"But you wouldn't, right?"

The fear in Michelangelo's voice seemed both unusual and offensive. Did he doubt their bond? How come? Leo remained speechless, limp for when Mikey wrapped him in a strong hug.

"Th—that can't happen," Mikey said. "Not ever. We have to stick together!"

"We will. Mike"—Leo fought against his trembles to return the hug—"we're brothers. I'll protect you. Always. I promise."

"Then," Mikey sniffled, and his voice darkened, "where were you when Bishop took me?"

Leonardo jerked sideways. He could fall no further than the rainforest floor, but his stomach somersaulted all the same. He heaved, gasped, and then licked his lips. They tasted like iron.

Another bloody nose? Perfect. He hadn't lost enough bodily fluids over the months. Or was it years? Days? Who cared? Even his dreams lacked a sense of time. Recently, they had even shown an interest in tossing him back into his childhood. Or some twisted version of it…

"There ain't any versions of the truth," a gravelly voice said.

Raph? Wait. No.

Leonardo avoided the white jumpsuit in his peripheral vision. He kept quiet, staggering towards the pitiful basin used for water storage.

"Ignorin' me works about as well as ignorin' the truth."

Leo cupped the water then wetted his nose as Donald snorted.

"Yer bro made a point, oh Fearless Leader. Ya dish out all these promises that ya never keep. Why try?"

'Focus on the iron,' Leo thought. He rubbed his nose and mouth, tasting metal and salt. 'If there's only iron, there's no room for—'

"Still tryin' that trick? It won't work."

"Yet," Leo whispered. His word stung, much like his nose.

"Nightmares sure take their toll, huh?" With a laugh, Donald approached. "Bet ya wake up feelin' like road kill. But ya're lucky. Ya get to wake up."

Iron, Leo. Iron.

"Iron, Leo, iron," Donald mocked. "Fine, let's talk about iron. Or metal in general. Like the kind that Lombardo cut you with. The kind ya promised to release me from. The kind Joseph had stared at before he said adios. Or maybe ya'd like the think about the metal that Bishop grafted into Michelangelo's shins, just to see if the Mutagen would adapt."

Leo's fingers cupped his mouth then squeezed.

"Daddy dearest said the incident was best left forgotten, for poor Mikey's sake," Donald continued, "but how long will it be before his 'biotic shins' turn against him? Arthritis is a bitch. If he grows crippled?" Donald clicked his tongue. "Man, to think it'd be because ya waited to bring him back home."

"He wasn't supposed—" Leo swallowed. "He shouldn't have been topside."

"But ya knew he was up there."

"As soon as Don told me, I—"

"Finished yer TV show, right? 'The idiot will be okay for a few more minutes.' Sound familiar?"

Leo shook his head.

"If ya say so." Damn the amusement in the brunette's tone. "But it doesn't matter if ya're quick or slow to act, I guess. Everyone around ya is just screwed. Even animals, it seems. Poor, poor little piggy."

"Fuck off, Donald!" Leo cried. He snatched up the basin then tossed it. Anything for silence. He raked the ground, panting. It left his head spinning, and he swore the ferns reached for him. He stumbled backward, blinked, but they kept lengthening their tendrils.

Shit. He needed out. He needed—

Leo looked up. Sunlight dotted the green canopy like pinpoints, and the mutant felt through the whirling shapes that distorted his vision to find the closest tree. He scrambled upwards—who knows how—until the pinpoints blossomed into a yellow and orange sky.

Breathing came easier when Leo settled onto a branch, and his muscles relaxed as he inhaled the warm breeze. 'I'm this close to the river?' he thought. 'Whenever I walk, it seems far away.'

Yet there it was, so close he could almost jump into it. It mirrored the sunrise with an intensity that would make artists cry.

'Nia would've liked this. If I had a camera…'

Who was he kidding? He had neither the will nor perception for photography. Hell, he wasn't even sure if the moisture across his face was sweat, blood, or water.

'I'm a psychotic mess.' Leo's eyes lowered from the sky to its reflection. 'What am I doing? What's the point? Sensei, this isn't what I thought it'd be. It's just as bad as New York. I can't sleep or eat. My mind is against me and I'm—'

Being punished. It's what he deserved, but how much longer could he endure? Why would he want to? His family was better off without him anyway.

Leonardo scanned the water's surface then the shorter tree tops around him.

To think, a fall from this height could silence the ghosts forever. Just one slip would end the torture. Still, was he brave enough to make that jump, to relinquish his last bit of control?

"Dammit," Leo hissed. He lifted an arm when something stung his neck, but the limb felt heavy. It hit his plastron, muscles twitching.

'What the hell?'

The mutant scowled as a tickle trailed over his shoulder. A slender-legged spider crawled down his unresponsive arm. It lingered atop his hand, fangs near his skin.

"You wouldn't," Leo started.

The spider bit down. Instant pain erupted beneath the bite, rousing goosebumps across his body. He slipped from the branch, incapable of screaming, and met the tree base at a speed that left loud snaps in his ears and blackened his vision.