Another story! I promise, I am still working on Estranged but this bunny refuses to give me a break and so I decided to type it up real quick like. Which, in SS language, means a few days.

It's an AU and contains graphic scenes, turtle torture and torment, character death and foul language. For these reasons I've given the fic an M rating. Don't read if you don't like those kinda things. At the beginning the turtles are not central, but that will change in later chapters. The chapters are shorter than those in most of my fics. And big thanks to Pi90Katana, who came up with the names for many of the chapters! I prefer to name chapters but I'm not always good at it, so her suggestions were a Godsend!

Oh, almost forgot. I don't own the characters and I make no money from my depraved ramblings. Poverty is my constant companion. Please don't sue.

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Raphael emerged wearily from the tunnel, limping slowly, head bowed. The floodlight picked him out easily, casting his shadow onto the floor behind him, stretched out to almost fifteen feet long.

He was quite alone.

Agent Bishop strode forward, raising a hand to his fellow operatives to indicate for them to remain where they were, his gun at the ready, taking no chances. He stopped a few inches from Raphael, who barely raised his head to look up.

Bishop glared at the turtle. "The others. Where are they?"

"They're..." Raphael shook his head. "There's no one else left."

Startled, Bishop realised that Raphael was barely holding his emotions in check. What had gone so cataclysmic wrong that a renowned hard-ass like Raph act this way? It was supposed to be a simple seek and contain, yet only one survivor walked out?

Infuriated, Bishop aimed the gun at Raphael. Raph raised an eye ridge but didn't flinch, staring down the barrel as if he didn't realise that it could ventilate his guts in a heartbeat. Then, he slowly raised his own hand and placed the palm over the barrel. If the trigger were pulled, the hand would be disintegrated along with half the turtle behind it.

Yet the message was clear.

"Shoot me then," said Raph wearily. "If ya really think it's gonna make things different, shoot me right now. But it won't change anything. Everyone's dead in there."

For a moment there was a standoff, Bishop's angry gaze boring into Raph's brown eyes – then he took the gun away, shoving it back into the holster in one angry motion.

"You." Bishop pointed at a couple of agents who had been waiting outside in preparation to grab their prey. "Take him back to the lab."

The pair took Raph by his arms and led him away, the turtle not even bothering to argue let alone resist.

Scowling, Bishop approached the entrance to the tunnel. Even from here he could feel the intense heat that was being generated from within. There was a fire down there, raging out of control. Something else to be concerned about.

One simple mission, capture the quarry, blown all the way to hell. Figuratively and literally.

What had gone so horribly wrong?