Donatello didn't believe in angels. His mind only worked scientifically, and mathematically, and there was just no plausible scientific analysis to prove that such celestial beings existed.
But that didn't really matter now, seeing as Donatello knew he was going to die now anyway.
How could I have been so stupid? He thought dimly to himself, the world spinning dizzily around him, changing from solid forms of shapes to twisted blurs of colours and smudges.
The rain came down heavily, blurring his vision and making his mask stick uncomfortably to his face. Thunder boomed in the distance and shook the city to its roots. Flashes of pure white energy sliced across the sky in ragged bolts, lighting the world up in a brilliant flash for all of two seconds, before disappearing and leaving the night plunged into darkness once more.
Wonder how long it will take for the others to know I'm gone? And how long it will take them to realize I'm not coming back.
Don fought to keep breathing, his chest tight and his head light from lack of oxygen and blood loss. He could feel his heart hammering wildly against his chest and could smell the harsh coppery tang of his blood that painted his skin red and dripped with alarming speed onto the concrete beneath him. Even in his terrible state, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.
The reason for his peril and quickly drawing death was slowly circling him. The horde of Foot soldiers moved in closer, moving in for the kill, their movements slow and predatory, reminding Don of a sleek black panther.
Unable to stay on his feet, let alone pick up hiss fallen weapon and defend himself, Don felt his legs give out from under him. He didn't even feel himself hit the ground. Closing his eyes, Don waited with baited breath for the killing blow that was to come.
But it didn't.
The sudden clang of steel grating against steel rang in his ears, followed by the sound of low growls and snarls, and for a wild moment, Don truly thought the Foot soldiers had turned into panthers.
The sound of bodies hitting the ground hard were punctuated with swearing and threatening snarls.
Then there was nothing but silence.
I must be dead, Don thought blearily to himself. But that can't be, the rational part of his brain whispered to him, for he could steel feel the rough concrete biting into his skin, and the stinging pain of his injuries.
Cracking his eyes open, Don blinked through the rain that was falling to the earth. It took a while for his vision to clear, and when it did Don couldn't believe what he saw.
Looking up at his brother in disbelief, Don felt his heart swell with relief.
Red bandana tails streaming behind him in the wind, strong green hands came down and gripped Don's arms, calloused, battle-scarred and oh-so familiar. Molten gold eyes stared into his pale brown, as a thickly accented voice urged him to stay awake.
And that's when Don knew that everything was going to be okay.
Because Donatello didn't believe in angels, but as another flash of lightning lit the sky, illuminating his brother in its majestic light, Donatello could have sworn that Raphael had wings.
This is actually something I wrote awhile ago for NotAWordSmith's 'Drabble A Day Challenge'. Haven't been inspired to write lately, so I edited and extnded this short one-shot in the hopes that my inspiration will come back. *Fingers crossed*