I'm extremely EXTREMELY sorry. I've pretty much given up on this.


This chapter doesn't make much sense for a reason. I can't write the escape AT ALL so I've skipped directly to the turtles being back at their lair. I'm sincerely sorry that this took so long, so please don't expect another chapter after this one. I just wanted to give you this last little bit of angst and "character development". If anyone- ANYONE- wants to continue writing this for me, then go ahead. Please link me to it. I'd love to see how this turns out, but I really can't write anymore.


Disclaimer: Still don't own TMNT. At all.


Blue eyes squinted at the glowing screen, then darted to the small mechanism in his hands. They quickly looked back up as he realized an alarming beep was sounding from it. A few presses of the device in his hands in the right places placated it.

In front of him lay the most horrible creature he had ever seen. Large black tendrils extended from the main part, a pair of deep, glowing red eyes seemed to sneer at him. The dark energy flung towards the green being, though he jumped up coolly, avoiding any and all damage.

"You won't escape me this time, fowl beast..." he growled out between clenched teeth. Leaping forward at amazing speeds and height impossible for a human, no matter how strong or athletic they may be. However, he wasn't human.

A grunt escaped his lips involuntarily as he jerked his arms forward in a complicated maneuver, jabbing his weapon between the creature's eyes; at its brain. The weakest part. As he fell to the ground and landed like a cat he snickered. Have to use that one later....

He was brought back to the ensuing fight as a ear-shattering shriek assaulted him. The being wavered, long tendrils flailing horribly. Some sort of black-blue liquid basically shot out in a stream from between its eyes. In all it could have been the pure manifestation of panic.

To his surprise, instead of just collapsing in a heap or exploding... or anything like that, it seemed to only grow larger. The tendrils suddenly sprouted deadly-looking hooks. Arms and legs materialized within the rampant tentacles. A mouth appeared.

"Oh, you foolish creature... I suppose that you'd have thought that you could have killed me, didn't you?" the warped voice snickered. The tendrils shook slightly at the laugh, causing the blue-eyed male to flinch. "Well you will go on no longer. For I will become the ruler of this kingdom... whether you like it or not!"

A fireball erupted from its mouth at the hero, who yelped in alarm, jumping out just in time. Blue eyes narrowed. "So, you reveal yourself for what you really are, do you?" The being ignored him, settling on just slamming tendrils into the ground, knocking bricks from their places and knocking a pillar down.


Donatello strode carefully into the room, where Leonardo and Raphael seemed to be having a stare-down. A three-fingered hand silently pulled out a chair, which he sank into. The other brothers looked away from each other for a moment. Leo caught his eye, while Raphael just turned away.

The purple-banded turtle frowned. "Subject one is... very... engrossed in your game, Raphael." A smirk danced gently on the end of his beak. "In fact, in the time he's gotten, he's gotten further than your file."

Amber eyes burned into his for a moment, blazing like an inferno. Donatello shuffled uncomfortably, beginning to regret his comment. Raphael just rolled his eyes with a sigh and flipped him off, leaning back into his chair.

"About that..." Leo cut in suddenly, disturbing the silence.

Don blinked at him for a moment. "About the game?" He winced at his red-banded brother's annoyed glance.

"No, his name. 'Subject one' is a bit..." Leonardo seemed to be searching for a word.


Donatello raised an eyebrow at Raphael's comment, but Leo gave him a surprisingly grateful smile. "Yeah, stuffy." He tilted his head back. "If he's going to be here for a while, he might as well have a better name... Or just a name in the first place."

"Leonardo..." Don gave him a stern glance. "Subject one is extremely unlikely to be our real brother. All we know is that he's a turtle. He's probably a spy." He heaved a strong breath, beginning to seethe. "Even if he wasn't, which I really doubt, he wouldn't last a minute being around the lifestyle we lead!"

Another uncomfortable silence.

"Donnie." Said olive-green brother jumped. None of his brothers had used that name since they were little. Since before they had realized what the world was really like. Since they realized they wouldn't belong. "Donnie..." Raphael repeated, genuine... something in his voice. "He's a mutant turtle... we're mutant turtles... He was in a lab for his whole life for f*ck's sake!" Leo winced at the language, but didn't interrupt. "I don't give a shit if he's not our brother. He deserves to be treated..."

Leonardo clenched his fists. "Human."

Hardened brown eyes glared at the ground, olive-green fists clenched as though attempting to destroy the source of his problems by mere will alone. For a moment, Donatello wondered if this was what Raphael felt like all the time.

A sharp breath in, a sharp breath out. A slow breath in, a soft breath out. "I..." His brothers looked at him, eyes filled with expectations. For what, he didn't know. But he would give them what he thought would be the best answer... "...Michelangelo."

"...Wait, what?" Raphael said in his thick New York accent. Don had always wondered where he had gotten that. Either way, his red-banded brother was confounded.

"Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni is the long version. An Italian Renaissance artist..." Leaning back, a soft smile washed over Donatello's face. "His name would fit in with ours..."


Subject one paused the game, wincing as he realized he was just about to get squished by one of the hooked tendrils when he un-paused the game. However, he carefully got up from the couch, making sure his shell didn't touch anything solid enough to make a sound.

Fortunately, he was blessed with enough luck that he didn't make a sound. He bit his lip/beak in anxiety, hearing muffled voices from the direction of the kitchen.

The un-banded turtle paused outside the old bricks of the door frame. The voices were clear. The other turtles' words were finally audible... though he had a feeling he would regret this little fact.

The voice of the one he thought was called "Leo" was the one he caught first. "...going to be here a for a while, he might as well have a better name... Or just a name in the first place."

A gigantic smile burst onto Subject one's face. He really did despise his title, and from what he was hearing the others (or Leo at least) were planning on re-naming him!

A moment of silence. Finally, a cold voice froze him in place. "Leonardo..." The threatening tone grasped around his heart like ice. "Subject one is extremely unlikely to be our real brother. All we know is that he's a turtle. He's probably a spy." A strong heave of breath indicated the fact that he was giving in to his anger. "Even if he wasn't, which I really doubt, he wouldn't last a minute being around the lifestyle we lead!"

Subject one's legs suddenly felt extremely limp. "W-what...?" he whispered, near silent. "No... no, no... all of them agreed... I'm not..."





"Nothing but a useless animal!"



"He could prove to be a problem if he should, at any time, escape."



"My fault..."


Bridges carefully glanced to the entrance of the room, then quickly looked back to the little turtle. Large, electric-blue eyes shone back to him with a spark. They blinked curiously at him.

"Okay... do you remember what we did yesterday?" Bridges asked kindly. However, to his disappointment, the little turtle only gave him a look and bit his lip. "Can you define an integer?"

"U-um..." Blue-green hands fiddled, six fingers intertwining and messing around. "I..." His eyes began to mist over slightly as small, crystal-like beads of liquid appeared in the corners of his eyes. Tears. "I..." Suddenly sobbing erupted from his beak, tears began to flow freely.

"Come now, little guy! It's alright, you did nothing wrong! In fact, you've done quite well lately." Bridges gave him a large smile, shuffling. His large, white lab-coat was extremely uncomfortable for this position.

While this happened, he failed to see the door slowly creak open and a pair of glasses-clad eyes glance in. A mouth bent into a cruel smirk.

"Listen, shell-shocker." The little turtle was barely sniffling. He gave a weak smile at the nickname. "An integer is a full number. Negative or positive, it doesn't matter. Do you know what that wouldn't include?"

"Hm..." Subject one's tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he put all effort into his thoughts. His face was completely dry of any and all tears. "Uh, numbers with the little point-y, dot-y thingies?"

"Yes!" Bridges said. "They're called 'decimals', but you got the ma-"

"How dare you!"

The voice caused the occupants of the glassed-in room to jump. A look of complete and utter horrified fear seized Bridges by the heart.

"M-mister Stockman! Sir, I... was..." The lab-coat clad man shot up, sweating.

Baxter Stockman glared at him, a small glint of triumph shining in the back of his eyes. "No need to explain. Because I don't care. You've interfered with our tests long enough, Bridges."


"You also can't tell anyone about what we've been doing here." Stockman gave him the most cruel, perverse grin he had ever seen. "So we'll just have to dispose of you. Immediately."

On cue, a pair of heavily armed guards, complete with bullet-proof vests and bulging muscles, burst into the room. They stormed over to the door of the small room, proceeding to let Stockman open the door for them. The duo actually had to duck to get in through the door.

The beat of his heart seemed to slow slightly in Bridges' ears. It was over. He couldn't do anything anymore.

As the duo of guards began to exit the room, Stockman raised a hand to stop them. "Good sirs, would you mind using euthanasia on that man immediately? He could prove to be a problem if he should, at any time, escape."

The taller of the two, who also happened to have a little less muscle, stared at him for a moment. "What about..." he gestured to the small turtle, who seemed frozen to his spot, barely breathing.

"It doesn't matter! Nothing but a useless animal!" Baxter snapped, then seemingly calmed. "Quickly now."

The guards looked at each other for a moment, then shrugged. "You're the boss..." the shorter mumbled, bringing out a small, black pistol.

Bridges locked his hazel eyes to those of the small turtle. The frozen looking electric blue jolts seemed to be frozen. A soft smile formed on his lips.

The metal met the side of his head, digging roughly into his scalp, messing up his hair.


It wasn't that loud. It seemed to echo. So did the thump that followed as they let the corpse fall to the ground. Baxter rolled his eyes and said something to the tall guard, who picked up the body of the former researcher from the ground and left the room, mumbling something about 'disposal'.

Stockman let out a barking laugh and left the room, slamming the door behind him.


Electric blue eyes slowly traveled from the pure white of the door to the former pure white wall.







He screamed.

Flash! Flash! Flash, flash, flash! FLASHFLASHFLASHFLASH-