The Fifth Mutant

Summary: Animal. Beast. Gutter-crawler. Abandoned. Loveless, nameless. But great. Oh, yes. The potential in this one. She will be great.

Author's Note: I'm trying my hand at OC. Let me know what you guys think and whether or not I should continue. 2003 series but heavy references to 2012. Order of birth is Leo, Don, Raph, Mikey. Also, I tried very hard to get the brainwashing technique down without resorting to brain worms and such so some of it might be distressing. I apologize in advance.

Chapter 1: Broken Promises

It's colder today. The wind passes right through my thin jacket to bite at my bones. My cheeks, nose and ears burn in the freezing air and I press my chapped hands against my face to warm it. My blistered feet ache and bleed in the shoes that have been too small for me for three months now but I can't bear to throw them out because Dad bought them for me when I tried out for the track team last year. I didn't make the cut but I kept the shoes when Dad promised he'd help me train for next year.

I hate promises. Nobody ever keeps their promises. Not even Dad. I try not to blame him but he was the one who fell asleep while driving home from work. He was the one who crashed into the other car. He was the one who killed two people – two innocent boys who had broken their curfew and were on their way home – and himself. Dad promised when Mom died when I was nine that he'd always be here for me. He promised to help me make the track team for eighth grade. He promised to always answer my cell phone in a Darth Vader voice when I wasn't fast enough to answer it first. I never really thought about it until the policeman knocked on my front door but Dad made a lot of promises.

Aunt Sherri promised to take care of me. She promised to feed me and give me new clothes and a home. She promised to let me mourn. She made a lot of promises, too.

I hate promises so much but when a lady bought me a sandwich yesterday when she saw me standing outside the café, she promised that if I came to Gapstow Bridge in Central Park at seven o'clock, she would get me off the streets.

So now I'm waiting and I'm pretty sure it's close to seven (I've been walking around the Pond since four this afternoon to try to keep warm). The sun's going down and how can it possibly get colder? My teeth chatter and I curl my hands into my inadequate sleeves, tucking my chin into my low collar.

"Hello." The calm and smooth voice with some kind of Asian accent interrupts my shivering and I jerk my head up to see the woman. She wears a knee-length white coat with a red scarf and red gloves. Her black hair and green eyes are a stark contrast with the outfit but she looks beautiful…and very warm. "I was hoping to see you here."

"Yeah," I agree. "Here I am, I guess."

She beckons to me with a gloved hand and a smile. "Well, come on. I have a vehicle waiting. Let's warm you up."

It's been too long since I was warm.

"How was the sandwich?" she asks pleasantly.

"It was, um, good." I don't have the heart to tell her that I threw it all up an hour later because I ate it too fast and my stomach isn't used to being full of meat, bread, cheese and vegetables.

She glances at me sidelong. "There will be hot soup waiting for you when we arrive. That will go easier on your stomach, I think."

I blush. Clearly, I'm unable to hide things from this woman. "Thank you," I say quietly. "Um, where are we going?"

She smiles again as we come up beside an idling black SUV and, for a second, my stomach clenches because something is so, very not right here but I ignore it because I want to be warm and she says, "We are going home."

I climb into the car and I don't have time to sit down before the door is slammed shut and a cloth slaps against my face, covering my nose and mouth. I inhale to scream but it's not air I breathe and now I'm falling. Blackness washes over me and I hear the woman say with a voice like honey, "You'd like a home, wouldn't you, Paige Erikson?"

-:-:-:-

Voices…and darkness… I don't know where I am… I'm hungry and still cold. Why am I wearing different clothes? Where are my shoes? Oh no. My shoes! Dad's gift to me! Where'd they go?

…

Now light but it's not warm. It's harsh, blinding. More voices. I answer their questions.

I'm Paige Erikson.

I'm thirteen years old.

I was born in Michigan but we moved to New York when I was eight.

My mom died of leukemia when I was nine.

My dad died in a car crash last year.

I have no siblings.

My aunt locked me in the closet and gave me no food for days when I did something wrong.

I have no other relatives.

I've been on the streets for five months now.

Do you know what happened to my shoes?

Someone slaps me. I'm not allowed to ask questions. Something fits around my neck and I try to fight but I get slapped again.

…

Darkness again and I'm awake, even though there's a mat on the floor and I'm so tired. There's an intercom system in my room that blares sudden noises like sirens, barking dogs and rattling chains, thunder and breaking glass. I can't sleep. I want to sleep. Please let me sleep?

…

What do you want from me? I scream and bang against the door, and a sudden, nasty shock from the collar around my neck sends me to the floor. I get back up. Let me go! I'm hungry and thirsty but they won't give me anything.

You promised me soup!

I hate promises.

…

I don't know what time it is or what day it is when the messages start. They're played over the intercom and I press my hands over my ears to drive out the booming voices: Why aren't you at home? Why aren't you at school? Your parents must not have loved you to give you a home and an education.

They died! I protest.

The courts gave you to your aunt who abused you and starved you – what kind of people do that?

What kind of people are you!?

Electricity zaps me and I bite the inside of my cheek by accident.

We're showing you a new way to live. We are educating you, giving you a home. You could at least be grateful.

I squeeze my eyes shut and curl up in the corner on the floor, my hands covering my ears. Shut up. Shut up.

The sun is shining today, though it's still chilly out…

Humans are at the top of the food chain. Humans are capable of killing even the toughest and most skilled predators. You are just below humans.

I look up at that. Am I not human?

And I get another shock.

…

The messages are inconsistent. They bleed into each other, changing topics and opinions so quickly that I don't understand half of it, though I hear it all. It's constant. Noises blare at me randomly and I can't stay in my corner. I have to get up. I have to move. I pace around my room (cell?). My hands twitch and even though it's dark and I can't see, my head whips around at every sound…

I think I'm going crazy but I don't dare ask questions.

…

You're lower than humans. What are you to anybody when nobody cares? You're an animal. An animal is what you are and what you always will be.

You are nameless, faceless, friendless…

We can show you the way…

They're expecting a late Spring…

That's too bad, I think, and I don't ask questions.

...

Light. Thank goodness. It's soft and warm and is that food? I think it but don't say it out loud. Holy cow, it's soup! And not the canned kind. It's real chicken broth and the vegetables still pack a little bit of crunch - celery, carrots and onions. The noodles are thick and cooked to perfection and the chicken is tender and is that...garlic? I inhale greedily. Oh, man, I love garlic - or I did. I can't remember but I don't really care because my stomach curls with warmth, as do the nerve-endings of my soul. I feel better all over and I smile into green eyes framed in black hair.

"Thank you," I whisper.

She brushes my cheek with the backs of her fingers. She smiles at me then takes the bowl out of my hands, along with the spoon. "Rest now," she soothes. "You are safe. You'll get more later."

I lie down even though she's still in the room - she won't hurt me, right? Right. I hear the door close just as my eyelids flutter shut.

...

More noise. Please, make it stop! I don't sleep for as long as I want to. Please, I just want to sleep.

...

More messages. More confusion. But at least my soup is still warm in my gut.

...

I have to pee but there's nowhere to go. I have to pee! Let me out! (For a brief second, I think it strange that I didn't have to go before: how much time has passed, really?)

...

Animal. Not human. Beneath them.

...

My full bladder screams and I cry.

...

I relieve myself in the corner as far from my bed and the door as possible. I hate myself but it's what an animal would do, right? So why should I be bothered by it? The lack of a shock makes me smile. At least they're not in my head.

…

Animal. Beast. Gutter-crawler. Abandoned. Loveless, nameless.

But great.

Oh, yes. The potential in this one. She will be great.

...

I'm not sure how much time is passing - hours, days, weeks? - but I get soup from the lady with green eyes. She's kind to me. She never speaks (she hasn't said anything since she first gave me soup) but she always touches me somehow: a pat on the head, a stroke on my cheek. It's nice. But I still wish I could sleep.

...

Such a lowly creature.

Far from the derogatory tones from before, this voice is gentle. I smile to myself as I pee in my corner.

So young, so fresh. You are a gift.

A gift? Me? Really? That's nice of them to say.

You are meant to be great. We can show you the way, if you'd like.

Yes, please. I'm sure I'm forgetting something, something important, but I don't really care at this point. This voice is kind and I like that. I like the lady with green eyes who gives me warm food. I would like to sleep, though. May I sleep, please?

I forgot to not ask questions the moment I get shocked.

...

They don't come anymore. Noises disrupt any sleep I hope to get.

I miss the lady with green eyes and warm food. My stomach misses her, too.

...

Now it's silent and it's worse than the noise. It's deafening and now I really can't sleep because what if something attacks me? What if... What if...

I fall asleep. Maybe the lady with green eyes will help me...

…

The darkness evaporates in a flash of light and I jerk awake with a whimper, shielding my eyes and rolling away to curl up against the wall.

"Why are you afraid, little one?" It's the green-eyed lady! I'm happy she's here so I unwind and look up at her.

"I'm hungry."

Quiet footsteps on the hard, cold floor. "I have some soup for you. Here. Eat."

I need a spoon, I think but I don't say it.

The bowl is set on the floor and I crawl to it. My muscles hurt, they're so tightly wound. My brain is sharp but sluggish at the same time. I eat the soup straight from the bowl.

"I'm sleepy."

"You can sleep soon. I promise. We're going to go for a little walk. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Stretch your legs?"

I nod because it's true and something comes off from around my neck. The shock collar is gone and I get a new one. It's not tight and it's not uncomfortable, like it's meant to be there.

"Can't have you running off, can we?"

"I'll never run. Where would I go?"

I bite my lip and mutter, "Sorry", as I look down. Not even three seconds after the shock collar comes off, I'm already asking questions.

"Apology accepted. Now come."

There's a rope in her hands and when she tugs, there's a tug on my neck. I follow her out of my room and into a hallway. The air's fresher here and I inhale, smiling. This is nice.

She leads me to another room except this one is much bigger and there are a lot of humans here. I shrink against her side. They'll hurt me if I stray.

Five large tubes stand erect on one side of the room, four filled with humans. They're younger than the adults. They're asleep.

She helps me step up into the fifth and last tube and removes the collar.

"Can I sleep now?"

She frowns but says, "Yes. Sleep now. You'll feel better in the morning." She pats my head then steps back and the tube closes. It's not comfortable, trying to sleep standing up, but there are lots of animals that do it like horses and some birds.

I can't hear what she and the humans say but then the top of my tube opens and some green liquid falls on me. It's a waterfall of green and it doesn't stop. It's up to my knees in a second and to my waist in another. When it reaches my chest, I panic: I kick against the thick and transparent tube, punch it, slap my hands against it. Let me out! I hear the four others screaming, having woken up. Their tubes are filling up, too.

It stops just below my chin but the pain takes me by surprise. It splits apart my skin and muscles and bones. Everything is breaking, shattering and splintering into countless pieces. I'm screaming. I'm dying.

I'm dying.

We're all dying.

I just want to sleep.

Through the green-splashed tube, I see her. Her green eyes, several shades darker than my death, twinkle with victory. She smiles at me.

I hate promises. I can't remember why I hate them but I do.

-:-

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