Chapter Text
Donatello rummaged through the scrap yard, searching for any possible new parts for Shelldons upgrades. He could hear the distant chatter of his brothers in the turtle tank, his cuff being unmuted in the case of Raph needing him to check in. He couldn't hear much other than the sharp clank of the metal being placed or thrown onto other pieces of metal as he set aside the useless material. He murmured to himself as he did so, listing off what things could be salvageable and what things couldn't as he simultaneously hummed notes to a song he was listening to on his phone when he wasn't murmuring. He danced a bit (or as he liked to call it; "Jammy-Jammed"), mindlessly doing a few moves here and there as he searched. He hadn't noticed the faint footsteps of something approaching his destination over the music and the chatter. Or if he had, he just tuned it out and chalked it up to being his brothers from the comm or an animal.
The footsteps grew closer, closer, closer. They became louder, louder, louder. But when the softshell had finally noticed the sounds, it had been too late. . .
He struggled and fought against his attacker, but his attempts to get them off proved fruitless. His efforts grew futile as his bō was knocked from his grip by swift hands, which knocked it far out of reach. His battle shell had been compromised by a quick stab of an unknown object between the shoulder rest and main shell piece. Soon he was left defenseless, and completely clueless as to where the attacker was. He quickly hit the panic button, beginning to sprint towards the exit to the scrap yard in a vain attempt at gaining some space between them in the high probability that they were still close. The sound of his panicked brothers yelling and scrambling around would have been heard, had he not completely tuned them out above the ever growing sounds of quick footsteps and faint huffing for air. He didn't look back, he couldn't look back. Looking back meant harm, looking back meant vulnerability.
Looking back meant death.
He suddenly felt his chin hit the ground with a sickening smack! and his body following quickly after. He was left dazed and confused, groaning in discomfort as he attempted to sit up before he felt something on his back. He was held down by what felt like a foot on his carapace, suddenly the sounds of his brothers returning as he froze in terror.
He was caught. He- they had caught him. . .
"Hello there, turtle. . ." The menacing voice of the attacker spoke, leaning down so their head was almost beside his own as they grinned like a predator that had caught its prey. "Seems I've caught myself quite the dancer, this'll most definitely be fun. ." They chuckled, before letting out an annoyed sigh at the cuff. They sneered, removing the cuff rather aggressively from his wrist before throwing it to the side. "Seems I got lucky catching the least annoying one."
Donnie hadn't heard much after the 'hello there, turtle. . .' part, everything was beginning to grow tuned out once again by a loud ringing in his ears. His eyes had shrunk to pinpricks by now, body tense and unmoving out of fear.
He'd been caught. . .
He's gonna die—
"—onnie!"
He's not going to see his family again—
"—on— ie!!"
They're all gonna be so disappointed in him—
"Do- ie an- er!!"
Crunch!
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Ugh. . . Where am I. . ? He thought with a light groan, blinking the blurriness from his eyes and looking around. His throat burned for some reason, and his eyes felt like he had been crying for the past hour. His shell and chin ached and he had a splitting headache. As he regained himself, he went to move his limbs, but felt a sudden searing pain in them as he did so. He soon realized,
He was unable to move.
As a matter of fact, he was also unable to see. It was dark, pitch black even. Like he was in some sort of dark void, or a dark room. Why can't I move—? Where am I? He thought, panic quickly rising the longer he sat—or stood? In this place. It only worsened as he found out he wasn't protected by his shell or other armour. He didn't even have his wrist cuff or bō! Where are the others. . ? Am I even awake? No that's dumb of course I'm awake. How else would I be able to feel—
It started up again, except instead of seeing black, his vision went white. He shrieked, feeling his limbs begin to move against his will—like some sort of remote control was being used by another. He was blinded by a bright light as soon as his vision returned, blinking a few times before he was able to see where exactly he was.
A stage. . . ?
He locked eyes with one particular person, the only person in the room, actually. They sat in the front row of seats, grinning maliciously at him with that same gaze his previous attacker had. "I see you're finally awake. I started to think you'd. . Given up. If you know what I mean, of course."
"W- what did you do to me—?" He asked, internally cursing his stuttering. "Why- Why can't I move? What did you do to me. . ?" His attempts at staying calm were quickly failing him, as his voice wavered a significant amount and he was forcing himself not to cry.
"Well if you really wish to know. . ."
"Yes- Yes I do—" He replied quickly, practically a whisper as fiery pain spread throughout his body.
The captor merely grinned once more, crossing a leg over the other and clasping their hands in their lap. "Well, there are metal rods in your joints, however they aren't ordinary metal rods." They began, chuckling lightly as they watched as the terrapin tensed up, his eyes widening in what looked like fear and disbelief. "It's true, and they allow me to control your movements with this remote." They pulled the remote from their inner suit pocket, shaking it side-to-side as they presented it to him. They leaned forward, letting out yet another amused chuckle as the light reflected off of their eyes like a comical twinkle. "Just. Like. A. Puppet." The captor sneered. "Just try and move on your own. You'll tear right through your nerves and muscles in seconds. Would you like to know the best part?" They asked, tone sickeningly curious. They watched Donnie begin to open his mouth, voice failing him. Nevertheless, they continued. "You'll tear right through a few arteries as well."
Donnie's eyes went to pinpricks, breathing abruptly stopping with just how horrified he was to hear it. "N- no— No that isn't true you couldn't possibly be able to do that in just a few hours. ."
"Actually, it took a full day to do. So unfortunately our shows will be delayed by a day or two."
"I—"
"Sadly, I couldn't really do much with your head without essentially killing you, so you do have free will there." They sighed.
"SADLY?! What do you mean sadly?!" He abruptly snapped.
"Well, it's rather unfortunate your performances will be. . Tainted with your insufferable mumbling and annoying screaming." They tsk'ed, shaking their head in disappointment and glancing away. "Not to mention the constant moving of your head other than what is rehearsed, oh! And all of the internal bleeding which can lead to you spitting it everywhere. ."
". . What do you mean rehearsed?" He decided to ignore whatever else they just said, noting one sentence in particular.
"Oh! I haven't told you. . Have I?" They returned their gaze to the turtle.
"I just woke up from a very painful fight with your ass. Or whoever it was that kidnapped me—how very rude of you by the way—and the first thing you told me was how you turned me into a damn doll." He deadpanned.
"Ah, yes. Well, I'm surprised your smart little brain hasn't pieced it together yet. The stage, the auditorium, the dance position you hold, the puppetification. . ."
"You're. . Gonna make me- perform. . ?" He guessed.
"Bingo! There's that smart little puppet I saw at the scrap yard!"
"In front of. . Humans?"
"Correct again! Two for two! You're a natural at this game!"
"But- won't they recognize I'm not exactly. . Human?"
"They'll merely think you're in a costume sweetheart!" They clasped their hands together, standing and walking to the stage. They raised one hand into the air to make what was supposed to be a flashy pose. "It'll be—!"
"Don't call me that. Only grannies and people with horrible choice in grammar call people that." He commented, promptly interrupting them with a small grin as they tensed in surprise.
Their eye twitched, shaking their head and straightening their posture as they lowered their hand back to their chest. "Whatever, they'll simply think it's a costume that goes with the performance in question."
"Honestly. . Unwillingly living the theater kid dream doesn't sound as bad as I thought it would go." At least I'm not being used as a murder puppet or something. . .
"That's the spirit! Now, performance is on in twenty! I'll see you soon turtle." They left, the curtains being pulled closed and the room—now recognized as the stage—going dark again.
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"Donnie!" Raph called, looking around the scrap yard for the brainy brother. The three had split up around the yard, careful not to be caught by repo. (Even if they were under temporary alliance for a while)
"Donnie!" Mikey worriedly looked around, scanning the perimeter for any possible signs of the brother in question.
"Yo 'Tello!" Leo yelled, glancing around the mountains of materials that lay scattered about. "Oh Don-Tron~!" He sang, voice as loud as he could make it as he cupped his hands around his mouth. All he saw were cars, rusty train spikes, broken videogame consoles, Donnie's battle shell, a few broken T.V.'s. . .
Wait—
Donnie's battle shell— He thought frantically, sprinting towards it and sliding on his knees beside it. He wordlessly picked it up, noting the new scratches along the back and shoulder-rests and the giant crowbar-sized dent between the left shoulder rest and main shell. He glanced over, spotting the goggles and bō. . . He had to force himself not to immediately start tearing up, scrambling over and picking up the discarded pieces of tech. "GUYS!! GET OVER HERE!" He screeched, holding the things close. Tears swelled in his eyes, threatening violently to spill over if he saw anything worse.
"Leo did you find—" Raph cut himself off, taking in the scene in front of him. "Leo. . ?" His tone went softer.
"He- he's. . He's gone—" Leo's voice broke, looking up as the tears finally began to flow down.
"Don. ." Mikey came up beside the slider, resting a hand on his shoulder and sitting down next to him.
Raph sighed, Sitting in front of the two and pulling them in for a hug. "It's okay. . We're gonna get 'im back, promise." He said, unsure if it was just to reassure his brothers, or possibly himself, too.
Possibly both.
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Agonizing. . Agonizing was the best word, not searing, not excruciating. .
Agonizing.
My limbs. . I can feel each muscle tear, each tendon snap, each bone rub against the oddly warm metal. . . I'm moving, not at my will. But at the commands of another. I'm being controlled and used. I'm a doll, a figure, a puppet . Stop watching me. . Why did I have to be so- so- weak? Why couldn't I be like my brothers. . ? They're strong, they're fast, they've got natural armor, they don't need all the extra protection. I said stop watching me— All I had was a stupid metal stick and a back shield I shouldn't even have. I'm supposed to be a turtle, so why don't I have a shell like theirs? Why did Draxum have to choose a softshell, of all terrapins?
Click.
Shift.
Scream.
Ow- ow ow ow!! Make it stop- when will this END?! I can literally feel the internal bleeding that's beginning to occur— am I going to die? How long will it take for this to kill me? Where even am I? When will the others be here? OW!! Stop watching me— stop it— no no, you- you horrible beings! How is this enjoyable?! Watching a life form that hasn't even done anything to you being quite literally tortured and subjected to such hell for your entertainment?! Why. . ? Why are humans so cruel. . . ? Why- why is my body going numb. . ? That's not supposed to happen— Raph. . Mikey. . April. . ?
Lee-Lee . . ?
. . .
I wanna go home. . .