Chapter Text
What’s worse than being stuck in the prison dimension?
Solitary confinement.
Because what’s more dangerous than the Krang?
Leo’s thoughts.
Of course, it was only because of the Krang that he didn’t trust himself to be alone anymore, but that was besides the point. Going from one of his usual night walks (insomnia’s a bitch) to suddenly waking up in a pure white room had definitely not been on his itinerary, but at least now he had a free schedule if it meant he did everything in the small. White. Room. With a cot that could might as well have been made out of stone, and a sad toilet in the corner.
Whoever had kidnapped him removed his mask and wrappings, taking away his identity. New white bandages wrapped around his ankle, a spot of blood stained on the side. “Eugh, boy,” he muttered.
Whoever they were, these guys were good.
That was where Donnie had placed his tracker (Leo had threatened to portal his video game into the ocean if he didn’t tell him where he put it. It was only out of curiosity, and hey, curiosity only killed the cat, and uh, he was a turtle. Haha, that earns a Donnie zing). He stood up, testing the ache and sighed that it wouldn’t take away from his usual awesomeness, and ignored it from then on. Let’s not focus on physical pain, let’s see what you have going on mentally!
Man, he needed Dr. Delicate Touch. Or Feelings. Whichever.
He found the camera in the ceiling’s corner and gave it his most charming smile. “Thanks for the free lodging, I really needed a place to crash, ya know?”
It stared back.
He crossed his arms behind his back. “No need to respond, I dominate at one sided conversations. But uh, let me first get this off my chest, you guys really need some decor in here. I get the vibe you’re going for, but I’m looking at something beyond. Now, hear me out, red carpet, neon yellow lights, paint some flowers on the walls, and the token masterpiece to bring it all together: a painting of Jupiter Jim’s ass dead center. What are we thinking?”
The camera, despite being an object and definitely had no feelings, looked like it wanted to pummel him. But he couldn’t sit in silence. If my voice is loud enough I can’t hear the thoughts.
“Alright, alright, here’s another one for ya—”
He dedicated his time walking around the room, pointing out the space and possible rearrangements.
“Are you going for a military style with the cot? I imagine some camouflage on the walls…”
“Can the toilet at least have some walls around it? And no sink? What’s wrong with you people?”
“How about if we move the cot—nope, it’s nailed to the floor.”
“Could really go for some water right now…”
“Why did it have to be white walls? Blue would look so much better. Blue is my color, ya know.”
“Wow, you have really good listening skills, not many people let me monologue for so long.”
“I’ve got it! Okay, okay, hear me out now, it will sound strange at first, but a chandelier not at the center of the room, but over the doorway. That way, whenever someone enters, they feel like they are in the spotlight and can bask in some glory. Everyone needs glory nowadays. Or how about—”
The lights turned off and the red light of the video camera glared like the Krang’s eye, embedding itself in him. Leo whistled. “Alright, I can take a hint. Sleep it is, then.”
No pillow or blanket. He first sat on the cot debating if he was really going to try to sleep, then decidedly curled onto it pretending to be the incarnation of peace and serenity while his brain caught on fire.
They only got me, right? They weren’t looking for my brothers at all, right? At least they grabbed the useless one of the bunch, only good enough to be a sacrifice.
Wow. Anxiety, depression, and insomnia all at the same time? We on a roll tonight, leysgo.
Time never did him any favors. He once thought the only way to earn a favor from time was to stay up all night, which cheated the system of life since you got exactly what you wanted: more time. He didn’t remember when staying up all night because he wanted to suddenly changed to staying up all night because he had no other choice. As though Father Time saw what he was trying to do and said with his infinite shitty wisdom: “You want more time? Oh, I’ll give you more time!”
He shared that time with Donnie, at least. Father Time could never change that.
But these kidnappers did.
He shut his eyes and curled into himself to preserve body heat, suddenly very aware that the air conditioning was too cold for his liking. At least it reminded him of Donnie’s laboratory. Yeah. I’m sleeping on the floor of Donnie’s lab. That’s all it is.
His mind only liked to play tricks on him when they were the negative kind. Any positive lies did no good. So his mind settled with just the dark thoughts, the worries and doubts condemned him to very few hours of sleep—which he did not count as proper rest. The lights turned on while he was already awake, and so he made a show of stretching from a beauty nap and crowed, “You guys have food here? Any breakfast burritos? Waffles? Oh, I’m definitely gonna need pizza later.”
Empty nothing.
And it was empty nothing all day. He tried again and again talking at the video camera, but his stomach growled and standing made him lightheaded. Dehydration settled in, grabbing his brain and spinning it around. Leo sat on the cot with his head in his hands. Just breathe. You’re not going to die here. It’s just a room, it’s not as bad as you think.
But it is bad because the unknowns are filled in with whatever my creative little mind can think of, which are all terrible ideas.
No one entered on the second day.
On the third, he spent his time curled on the cot clutching his stomach like it may help, and made sure to cover his head with his arm so the camera wouldn’t spot the silent tears streaming.
Pathetic pest.
He went in and out of consciousness, and whenever he did wake up, he just turned on his side and waited until he fell asleep again, letting dangerous thoughts be the lullaby he drifted away to.
The sound of the door opening awoke him. He slowly leaned up so as not to disturb his dizzy head and met the massive guard holding a bowl of sloshing water. He handed it to Leo, who sang, “My hero…” it died when he spotted a floating white substance mixed in with it. Eugh, boy. He weakly smiled. “What’s in it?”
The guy was so big, humans normally didn’t come in that size. A little smaller than Raph. “Sedatives. You’ll need it for what’s coming.”
He cringed, his skin prickled with goosebumps. “No way I’m drinking that.”
A sigh, and the guard reached for a pouch at his belt, taking out a needle. “That’s fine, we have other means to an end.”
The long needle smiled at him, and he gagged. “Nope, uh, I’m good, I think I’ll just drink this, yeah?”
He hesitated, but his dry throat begged for it, so he tipped it back, the guard carefully watching. The sour taste slammed into his tongue, but his body cried for more, so he downed the entire thing and flinched when it was snatched back from him. The door then opened and another guard entered. Together they tightly held his arms and forced him up, dragging Leo down a long hallway. He tried to focus on the direction they headed and the lack of people, but the sedative kicked in fast. His feet dragged as the world tipped and before he knew it he was pulled into a room with a table and restraints attached to it, which sat beside a smaller table with too many pointy objects. For a moment, his panic and adrenaline fought with the calmness in his muscles, and he yanked back. “No, no, no—”
No food and little sleep along with the sedative weighed him down, a terrible collection that made his actions pathetic. They easily forced him on the table, slammed his limbs down and tightened leather straps on his wrists, ankles, and lastly, his throat. It was too tight, the presence making him instinctually swallow his words. A white light shone down, not helping his blurring vision.
At least his brothers weren’t there to witness the pathetic sight.
“B583, we finally meet. I would have come to you sooner, but some other mutants called my attention.” The woman’s voice was silky, calm and soothing. She whistled. “Wow, you are something special, aren’t you?”
Her form hovered over the light, and from what he could tell, blonde hair was tucked into a bun and wrinkles were only just beginning to crease her eyes and mouth. Through his daze, he forced a smile. “I like to think so.”
She laughed, tugging on surgical gloves. Someone else wearing surgical gear approached with a needle, sticking it in his arm as she asked, “Do you have a name?”
They connected him to a heart monitor, his increasing heart rate cracking through the screen. He swallowed, his throat somehow already dry. “Leonardo.”
She pulled on a mask. “That’s a lovely name. You may call me Dr. Bishop. We will be seeing a lot of each other.”
Leo’s breaths hitched, the panic pushed through the sedative and ached for his muscles to run. Dr. Bishop rested her hand on his forehead, stroking downward the way dad would. “Ssh, calm down, Leo. You have nothing to fear. Our only goal is to help humanity.”
“By torturing me,” he wheezed.
She rested both hands on either side of his face. “It will hurt, yes, but please remember that this is for the greater good. You are helping so many people.”
She pulled away and brought an oxygen mask over his beak, gently lifting his head so the strap went around. Her eyes managed to meet his. “So you won’t fall asleep on us,” she winked, then was gone.
Whatever gas they gave him jerked his mind into alertness while his muscles remained unfit to fight back. “Let’s begin,” Dr. Bishop said.
He couldn’t see what they were doing, but he felt it pierce his arm and drag down to the wrist, deep and penetrating the vein. Moaning, he clenched his teeth as they did the same for his other arm. The other doctor stayed mute, merely mirroring whatever Bishop did. One peeled back the opening they made, the other stuck something in it and prodded, searched, dove deeper down. “Stop,” he whined.
“Oh, love,” Bishop sighed, “The operation only just started.”
They looked at and made notes of his muscle and veins, his arms went numb and he whimpered when blood caught his eye. It spilled across the table, and they didn’t care. He wanted his mind to feel the way his body did, numb and under and gone and unaware.
His legs were sliced open, his ankles, the bottoms of his feet. And each time, they took their time searching what was beneath, sometimes removing a piece. As much as he wanted to cry, he couldn’t. Not in front of them. Not now.
The things they muttered went over his head, all he could focus on was the ceiling, hoping Raph would crash through and save him. He managed to calm down when they stitched up what they had cut, Bishop murmured, “You’re doing very good so far.”
So far means there’s more.
He focused on his breaths, how it fogged the mask. Don’t think about the blood. Don’t think about what they’re doing.
They finished stitching him back together and wrapped bandages around the wounds, making him look like a mummy. Bishop said, “Let’s move on. Adjust the ankle restraints for genital examination.”
The guards came back as his heart rate skyrocketed. “No, no, no,” he panted. The first restraint was undone and he kicked one guard right in the chest with frantic and manic energy. “Don’t touch me!”
“We need more sedatives, now!”
With both restraints gone, he lashed out with his legs, but a guard caught it and brought it down, strapping it to the bar surrounding the bed, his knee bent at the angle like one would give birth. They restrained his other leg successfully as Bishop came over and inserted a needle in his neck. “It will be okay,” she whispered.
His muscles relaxed, she patted his head, and he croaked, “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Please be emotionless and call me pest. I know what you’re trying to do.
His limbs stayed limp but his wounds ached, his eyelids drooped but his mind screamed, and he couldn’t hold back his cry when her hand shoved itself between his legs. Parts of him spasmed, a dizziness swept through his head, and as she massaged and prodded his insides, his body reacted, and he sobbed. “Please—ah!” He jerked his head back as pressure built—he couldn’t focus. Couldn’t see or feel.
He didn’t know how long he was in that room. He didn’t know how long they did whatever they liked to him. They kept him in that position for too long, shoving a needle inside and slicing through him. Afterward, Bishop hovered over him, removing her bloody gloves and mask, smiling. “Everyone leave. I want just a moment with B583.”
Footsteps, so far away. So far.
With gentle hands, she removed the oxygen mask and restraints, yet with them gone he couldn’t move. Though he wanted to ask what she was doing, his tongue stayed a useless lump. She reached under his armpits and pulled him upward. “There you go,” she murmured, forcing him against her chest. His head fell on her shoulder, and after taking in the moment, he realized she was hugging him. She rubbed his shell, hummed a little, whispered, “You did wonderful. You’re so strong.”
The ache in his throat built up. “I don’t want this,” he croaked.
Her hand cradled the back of his head. “No, no one does,” she said. “But you’re so brave for facing it.”
The tears he’d been fighting against brushed the rim of his eyes. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he wept.
She hummed again, still rubbing his shell, holding him like a child. “You don’t want to be comforted?”
It wasn’t that. When she talked down at him and rubbed him the way one would a pet, a piece of his mind craved it and reached for it, but that was something not meant to come out. He forced it down as she kept touching him the way papa had when he was little. He shut his eyes to fight the war in his mind and keep the tears from falling.
“Everyone deserves comfort, Leonardo. I can tell you’ve been through a lot—you especially deserve it.”
No, I don’t.
He couldn’t bare to answer, and when she sensed it, she let go and called in the guards. “Carry him to his cell. But be gentle, yes, like that.”
The guard swept him up so his head rested against his arm, his whole body fit against his chest, the brute. Similar to Raph. He stayed limp, eyes naturally closing. Upon reaching his cell, the guard laid him out on his cot and wordlessly left, leaving Leo to give in to the sleep he craved.