Title: I'm Not as Stupid as You Think
Day: Whumptober 2023, Day 19
Prompt: "I'll take one final step, all you have to do is make me" Floral Bouquet/Psychological/ "I'm not as stupid as you think I am"
Fandom: TMNT 2k3 AU
Word Count: 2714
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: M
Characters: Baxter Stockman, Michelangelo
Warning: Violence
Summary: With all of his family dead, Michelangelo goes after the last of their old enemies that's left, Baxter Stockman. He's going to make sure that Stockman pays, that everything is gone before he joins his family—or, at least, that was the plan.
Notes: I know that plenty of people have probably done it already but have a little Last Ronin flavored 2k3 Mikey.

I'm Not as Stupid as You Think

Baxter Stockman blinked himself awake. Wait. Awake? Blinked? Those two things shouldn't be possible. His eyeball didn't have an eyelid, and sleep hadn't been something that was truly possible since he had become a disembodied brain. Not, at least, since that disastrous attempt at having a cloned body, when he was working under Bishop.

That's when it hit him. It wasn't just that he had woken up and that he had blinked, it was more than that. Startled, Stockman looked down. He… he had a body. But how? He hadn't been doing any active experiments with this, not for years. And yet, somehow, he had a body.

Slowly, Stockman stood up. His body seemed to be working perfectly. More than that, he could feel everything. The weight of his glasses on his face, the slacks, dress shirt, shoes, and lab coat he had on. The coolness in the air. He could hear the rustle of his movements without them being filtered by a speaker, see without the distortion of fluid or the limitations of one eye. He could smell—

-he could smell. And it smelled awful. The kind of awful, pervasive smell that was so strong, it was like you could taste it.

Stockman looked around. Where was he? It was dark, and he couldn't see much of anything. There was the sound of water—perhaps dripping? Maybe slowly flowing?—and the walls felt rough and slightly curved. Directly behind him, the wall felt like it might have caved in. He let his eyes adjust and, as they did, he could just barely make out that light seemed to be coming from one direction.

Stockman was not a stupid man. He knew it was likely that whatever lay in that direction was going to be trouble for him. However, Stockman was also a self-assured man. He knew that he really didn't have any other choice, seeing as there was no other way go, but he was certain that, whatever he came into, he could handle it.

So, reveling in his new senses, Stockman walked in that direction. He wasn't sure if it was his eyes adjusting or the presence of more light—both, he assumed—but things began to become clearer to him. He quickly realized that he was in some sort of sewer system, although he wasn't sure of the caved in and crumbling side tunnels were a sign of bad repair, or a sign that someone was pushing him to go in a particular direction.

As the light grew brighter, the tunnel also grew dryer, and the smell decreased to some degree. An odd opening of some sort stood in front of him, and, somewhat cautiously, Stockman entered it. He recognized it right away.

"The turtles' lair?" he said, looking around. "Hm. Seems like no one is home."

It did, indeed, seem to be one of the homes of the turtles. He knew that they had several homes over the years, as different ones were discovered or destroyed. He'd help take down a couple of them. This one, while unfamiliar to him, still held the hallmarks of a turtle lair. The training equipment, the mementoes, the technology—especially the technology.

Which was odd, considering—

A noise from behind him caught Stockman's ear, and he turned around. Nothing was there. Or nothing seemed to be there. It was hard to tell with ninjas. He'd learned that early on. He went to scan what was happening with his bionic components, and then remembered that he didn't have them. Strange to think that he was missing not being entirely human, but he was definitely missing that right now.

"But just because I don't have access to scanning equipment right now doesn't mean it has to stay that way," Stockman said to himself, and made his way over to what was clearly a lab.

Stockman scoffed as he looked at the lab. It was an open-air concept feeding right out into the common area. The computers were ancient, and most of the half-built technology looked as if it had been cobbled together from trash and unusable parts. Still, Stockman couldn't deny that the Purple-banded turtle was a genius, even if he wasn't at Stockman's level, and he knew that getting into the computer wasn't going to be particularly easy.

He booted it up, and, as soon as it was ready, got to work. It did take him a while to break through the firewalls that the turtle had put up, but he managed, of course, to break through them. To his satisfaction, the turtle did, indeed, have cameras and sensors up. To his frustration, they weren't picking up anything but him.

"Hm, must have just been some paranoia," Stockman said. He turned to look at the lair again. "Well, as long as I'm here, I might as well have a look around. After all, what's going to hurt me here?"

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, because the temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees out of nowhere. Stockman felt chill bumps rise on his skin, and he rubbed his arms for warmth.

"Hm. The—the heating system must be faulty. Yes, that's it. After all, I'm sure there's not been much maintenance on it," Stockman said, trying to rationalize away and ignore the unease he was feeling.

Stepping beyond the boundaries of the lab, Stockman took a moment to explore the lair. Comic books, novels, video games, movies, artwork, much of that was lying around and not hard to spot. He peeked in each of the rooms, looking to see what might be in there. He noted how the different personalities of each of the turtles seemed to be reflected in the rooms, but he never stayed in one long. Something about them just creeped him out.

The bedrooms were all very personalized, but little things just creeped him out. Like a feeling of being watched in Leonardo's room, and thinking he saw a candle lit, when there was no way that one could be lit. It was just a trick of the light, obviously. A feeling of being stalked grew on him in Raphael's room, and he could have sworn that the hammock was not rocking when he came in, although he chalked that up to air flow making it move. He felt like he was being observed in Donatello's room, and a whir and clack from a device that had powered up had nearly sent him jumping out of his newly regained skin. A feeling of danger was what crept up on him in Michelangelo's room, and he was certain that the pages on that comic book flipped while he was in there.

The feelings, while abating somewhat while he was out of the room, never completely left. The rat's room was the last personal space he had to check, and he slid the rickety screen to the side, stepping foot in there.

It was dark, and minimalistic, and he felt like he was entering an animal's lair. Not because of the decor, no. It was the same way that the other feelings had crept up on him. It sent a shiver down his spine—and some part of him did enjoy feeling that again—and Stockman decided to take a step back and out of the room.

Suddenly, a wind whipped through the room, so hard it sent Stockman's coat fluttering. The candles that were left nearly burnt out suddenly burst to life. Stockman took a step back, only to have the wind rush at him again, angry and hot. Stockman turned and fled out of the room, only to stop when a row of throwing stars landed at his feet, sticking in the ground.

Stockman took a step back, and then turned to run. He didn't get far before he tripped over something, crashing to the ground. Picking himself up, he turned to see what it was, only to feel a sense of horror when he saw a wooden staff wrapped in purple disappear into the shadows.

"No—no, impossible, I—" Stockman scrambled to his feet, running towards the entrance he had come through.

He didn't make it far before a sai flew out from the other side of the room, nearly catching him in the face. Stockman stumbled back, nearly falling down again, and turned to try to race in a different direction. He paused behind a pillar, only to duck as a pair of swords came at him. Fleeing again, he headed towards the entrance, only to find himself falling down as his feet became entangled in something else.

This time, when Stockman turned to look, he flinched and gasped. Picking up the nunchuck that he had tripped over was Michelangelo. The turtle made eye contact with him, and then slipped into the shadows.

Suddenly, he heard movement all around him, from the shadows. Whispers of movement, small noises, voices that threatened punishment. He couldn't pinpoint where they were coming from, and he scrambled to his feet, fleeing out into the sewers. He ran until he couldn't, and then stopped, panting.

"Safe," he said. "Safe at last…"

A growling echoed throughout the sewers and Stockman froze, looking up as a monstrous shadow seemed to rise up from the water.

"No! No! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

"I don't think so," came a voice from behind him, and Stockman whipped around, staring at Michelangelo again. "After all, you wouldn't leave us alone, would you?"

The figures of the turtles, and their father appeared around him, stepping out from the shadows, weapons held at the ready. Their eyes glinted with the promise of pain. Stockman had nowhere to go. He was surrounded. The growling turned into a roar, and the mutant crocodile lunged at him. Stockman screamed, and some part of him cursed his new body and every sensation it felt as the mutants turned all their attention on him.

Michelangelo woke up. He blinked. He reached a hand up, pushing on the blue-tinted clear opening above him, and sat up, pulling the neural interface off of his head. He climbed out of the pod he had been in, shaking himself out a little, and made his way over to the other pod. He stared at the creature in it for a moment, and then pressed a button.

It took a few seconds, but within the pod what was left of the man known as Baxter Stockman woke up. He started when he saw Michelangelo standing over him, and then again when he realized where he was.

"Have a fun dream, Stockman?" Mike asked, swinging his headset around on his finger.

"You!" Stockman said. "But how—" Stockman shook his, well, brain, Mike supposed.

"I broke in here to kill you. And then I found these pods," Mike said. "I figured out what they could do, so I decided to put them to good use. How did you like being hunted down like an animal? You were already familiar with being slowly taken apart, so that part probably wasn't as impactful."

"That's impossible," Stockman said. "There's no way you programmed all of that in yourself! It's a complex program that relies on billions of data inputs and a highly sophisticated mind!"

Mike leaned in over the pod a bit more. "You see, that's the thing, Stockman. I'm not as stupid as you think I am. Who do you think helped to maintain things when Donnie died? Who do you think helped keep Raph under control after Sensei passed? Who do you think reigned Leo in when it was only the two of us left? I did. I learned everything I needed to. And in the end, this wasn't so hard to use. You and the rest of our enemies made a mistake when you left me for last."

Mike took a step back from the pod and brought a canister up. "You know what this is, don't you?"

"It's… an aerosol neurotoxin," Stockman said. "There's no cure for it. It's incredibly painful and causes horrifying and violent hallucinations along with the real-world pain."

"Yeah. I figured that out from your notes." Mike bent over and attached it to the pod. "Hope you enjoy it."

"Wait, no, what are you doing?!" Stockman demanded, banging on the pod from the inside.

Mike kept working. "I'm switching it out for the emergency oxygen. I figured, if I terrified you with my family beforehand, maybe when this kicked in, you'd have to face them and what you did to them all over again." He finished, and then turned to walk out of the lab.

"Wait, wait, no!" Stockman said. "No, please! I—I only killed one of them! I don't deserve this!"

"You're the last of our enemies I had left to take out," Mike said, turning to look over his shoulder. "I hope you feel what it's like to be dissected alive, Stockman. That's what you did to him, after all."

Mike walked out, leaving Stockman to his screams and pleas. He'd be dead in a few hours, and Mike was more than glad for it. He would just sweep the lab in the meantime, make sure there was no other unfortunate souls trapped here, and then, after Stockman was dead, he'd blow this place sky high. Who knows? Maybe he'd stay to see it happen.

Mikey did not stay to see it happen. He stood with a bouquet of flowers in front of five graves that were under the oaks at the edge of the property. His brothers. His father. Leatherhead. He sighed as he looked down at them.

"So… I finally got Stockman. He's always been hard to kill, but this time I made sure of it. Trapped him in a pod, sent in a neurotoxin, made sure I saw that he was dead, wiped all of his computers, sent a virus into them and any he had connected, and then blew the place up." He smirked a little. "You always did say I was good at explosions, Raph. And Don, you'd be proud of that virus. Leo, I went in like a proper ninja, too. Sensei, you'd be proud of me. And LH, I made sure no one else was hurt."

Mike's smirk faded a bit, and he knelt at the graves, pulling a few weeds from them, and clearing out the jars that served as vases. "I was ready to go with him. I had a message for April and Casey and everything. I was ready to be buried right here with you all. Well, they probably wouldn't have been able to get my body, but I think my spirit would have been here."

He started putting flowers in the jars, trying to arrange them to look nice. April was so much better at it than he was.

"But then some of his research caught my eye. Remember the ooze that mutated us? Well, turns out Stockman had been experimenting with transmat technology, and he'd made some of the same ooze. When he realized that it had mutagenic properties, well, he started experimenting. I wasn't able to save all of the experiments. Some were… too far gone. But, well…"

Mike paused. "Sensei, you would have been an awesome grandfather. And I'm going to do my best to be as great a father as you were. I'll do my best by these kiddos, I promise. I promise all of you."

"Mikey? Mikey, the kids are up!"

Mikey looked over his shoulder at April's call, and then back to the graves. "I'll bring them here to meet you one day. But it looks like I need to go take care of things. I… I miss you. But hopefully we can all live in peace now. That's how I want to raise these kids anyway."

"Mikey!"

"I'll be back later. I love you all."

Mike stood up and gave the graves one last look before he turned to head back to the farmhouse. He had gone in with the goal of killing Stockman and taking that one final step into joining his family. He'd left with a new family and a will to live. Hopefully, he be able to do right for this next generation of Splintersons.