Flex, twist, relax, wriggle a little. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to wriggle out of bad situations. And this is the worst. As if having my entire family captured, trussed to upright, chill steel tables and subjected to a heap of painful, and really quite unnecessarily invasive, tests isn’t bad enough. Now I have to endure this endless, smug drone of utter undecipherableness!

A scowl knits my brow as the stiff leather bites into my wrist, and I glance toward the table set to my right. Dons’ face is grim as he’s giving a slow, unconscious nod; listening intently to all being said. That does not bode well. Not well at all! I’m kinda glad I don’t understand what’s coming for us next. Wriggle harder. No. Relax, breathe deep, slow it down; keep from drawing any attention.

A few minutes more and voila! I feel the strap slip, warm and sticky, over the back of my fingers. My hand’s bloodied, sore, but free! It’s a battle not to bring it up to look at it, inspect the damage done. But, not yet. Wait. Wait for it. For that moment my enemy is distracted…

Finally!! Quick! No time to worry about pain, or blood or anything else. Release the restraints on throat, wrist, ankles. Bite down on the groan as unsteady legs take weight they’ve not held for over a week. And I glance along the row of tables, the faces of my family, as I slowly straighten.

They are silent, as they have trained to be, need to be. But their eyes, their eyes are demanding. Dons’ are flicking repeatedly to a certain console flashing with heaps of coloured buttons, urging me to step towards it. Normally that would be a temptation, but not this time. I’ve had my fill of sciency guff that makes no sense. And, knowing my luck, I’d likely do more harm than good playing with buttons. I usually do.

Raph. His eyes are stipulating indiscriminate wreckage. I decide that’ll be ‘Plan B’. Leos’ are calm, his glance flickering to the others still bound. The message clear; ‘get them free’. Splinters’ eyes are closed. Sensei’s still unconscious from the last round of tests. That settles it. ‘cos in that moment Bishop turns.

His mouth hangs slack, as he finally stops talking in that instant he sees that I’m free.
Smack!
The bridge of his sunglasses snaps neatly in two, each half toppling to the floor in the moment before Bishop himself hits it. God, that felt good! Not as good as my hands closing around his throat though.

But I don’t get to enjoy that feeling for long. I didn’t knock him out totally and somehow he gets his legs under himself, hurls me off as he rolls away from me. The room floods with goons as I leap after him. That guy is definitely not human, or mortal, or whatever. As graceful as Klunk, he’s back on his feet; fetching a fresh pair of glasses from his pocket in one smooth motion. The smug bastard looks on in disdain, just beyond my reach, as I try my damn best to grab for him again.

Despite the flurry of action I see, hear all my brothers screaming at my attackers, struggling to free themselves. In vain. I get slammed to the floor, blows raining down upon me, until all fades to black…

Crack open an eye. Damn it. Back on the table. I don’t need to see them to know my straps have been pulled even tighter this time. The pain tells me. But it’s not as harsh as the ache in my heart. I failed. I failed so badly. So badly I can barely turn my head to look to my brother, and not because the leather rasps against my bruised throat as I do it.

Ashamed, I offer Don a contrite grin by way of apology. He gives me an encouraging smile in return. A nod of… gratitude? That can’t be right. I turn the other way, no choice but to look to Raph on my left. I can’t see much of Leo or Splinter past him. Raph isn’t smiling as he notices I’m awake. I knew it. I drop my head, as much as I can. The leather doesn’t do as much to clench shut my throat as the tears I’m trying to hold in check do.

“Thanks Mikey.” I’m confused, as much by the soft tone as the words themselves. “That was fucking awesome. You did a good job bro.” And the tears fall, but I don’t care. They’re nothing to be ashamed of anymore.