I adore the TMNTS and hope to do them justice with this piece. Inspired by the 2012 cartoon series, this story begins a month or so after 'Slash and Destroy' – my favourite episode, and will veer off into AU from that point. I will try my best to keep the look and feel of the 2012 series, and try to bring in as many characters as I can, but this prologue is very dramatic (I couldn't help myself) – and the flare from the 2003 series seemed to have snuck its way in.

As the story progresses I will try to balance between all of the turtles – because I love them all – But for all Raphael fans this first ones for you.

So warnings: Temporary death of major characters(nightmares etc) Fighting, obsession, cussing, torture (both physical and mental) but not too graphic – I don't think so anyway – I've given it a teen rating, though please let me know if I should change it to Mature.

Things that will not be included: T-Cest. Rape and Actual, never coming back: Death! (If I think of anything else along the way, I'll put it here).

Disclaimer: I do not own TMNTS. I make no money – just practising my flare of the dramatic with my favourite characters.

So thanks for taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoy it. Please note that this is not beta-ed but I've done my best.

Collared Sai~yonara.

Written By

Blazin Shadow.

***TMNT*** PROLOGUE ***TMNT***

For most people, the darkness is a mere necessity to life; something to escape from. For most people, escaping that darkness meant slamming their front doors shut and pinning on some lights, often surrounded by family and home comforts. For most people, life consists of a nine to five job, shopping, social visits and other mundane things that pass as society's norm. For most people, the darkness is something to sleep through; nothing more.

And then there are those special few that thrive on it.

The fictitious rumours that flitter about the hustle and bustle of New York suggest crazy things. They dare to suggest that those that plagued the streets at night were not human at all, but something sinister; something to fear. It spiralled from the idea that a secret organisation of karate fighting nut-jobs shake the underbelly of the city, and from that came wilder tales still; that the city is riddled with not only criminal elements, but by freaks of nature. Monsters so hideous, they daren't face the light.

Yes, you can laugh now.

For when most people hear of these so-called Graank and Feet and Kung-Fu Frogs – to name just a few; they laugh. For surely it's a joke; right?

Right?

***TMNT***

'…. The shell …?'

The darkness pressed down on him, uncomfortably warm and constricting. It could never be associated with the night that granted him freedom. In that darkness he was able to run wild and memorise precious details of the gritty city he loved so much. At least until his obnoxious, know-it-all brother lectured him to hide, or demanded that he go home. Damn older brother thinking he has the right to rule.

'… Wha 'appened … anyway…?'

Maybe said brother was the cause of this? But no, he dashed the idea immediately. His perfect, shell-tastic brother who could never do no-wrong was too honourable for something this underhanded. Now if someone had accused him of knocking his brother down? Well, in fairness, who wouldn't wanna take Fearless down a notch or so?

'…Urgh…'

No, this compressing darkness stank of foul play, and dammit, it hurt! It was easier to name the few places that didn't hurt then to try and reel off everything that did. Hopefully, there were no broken bones, his brother would pitch a fit if he had. He would never, ever, hear the end of it, could not emphasise that point enough. His brother would have him grounded for weeks with nothing but lectures and bed rest; probably force him on a diet of lettuce leaves just to spite him.

He needed to focus, could hate on his brother later. The darkness brought nothing but discomfort and pain so it was hard to gather his scattered thoughts. Why was it so hard to remember anyway?

"…More than one way…"

Was that voice in his head? No, the tone was so wrong, cotton-ball muffled. It didn't belong in his head. It hovered like a cruel joke, somewhere beyond the suffocating darkness – beyond the pain.

"…De-shell…"

'…Wait…' The thought was distant, disjointed, slightly panicked '…I 'ave a shell…'

Wait! What? What kind of trouble had he landed himself into this time? Sewer apples! He had to move and he had to move now! With what little coherency he had he pushed against the darkness, shoved against it with all his might. If his mind had a voice, it would have hollered with the effort. Everything screeched in protest, but finally he was rewarded. Fingers twitched, just a smidge, the pads of his curled digits grazing something cold – it was a start. It was something he could work with.

"…Oh, look master…"

The voices drummed away, but they were nothing more than a droning nuisance. He had to get his limbs to work if he was to have any chance of getting away. His face cracked a small smirk as nerve-endings began to register with him.

'…C'mon..!'

His arm dragged slowly along something solid; his plastron, maybe? No, that didn't feel right, he couldn't work it out, the world seemed to spin and there was a low, grating sound that reverberated nearby. He didn't have the energy to figure it out. Where was the floor, anyway?

"…Look…!"

The voices were coming in clearer now. Maybe if his stupid body would work as it should he would be able to bust those skulls, silence those voices, figure out where he was and get the shell out of there. Where was he, anyway? No clues presented themselves, but knowing where the floor was would be extremely helpful right about now. Was it beneath him? Damnit his head hurt…

"… M-Mikey …" Well at least his voice worked, somewhat, "… Be cool … bro …"

'… Get that licence plate for me … I'll bash it later… When I get up…'

More limbs registered one by one, the thrumming pain resonating loud and clear. The floor was definitely beneath him, it pressed against his aching cheek, could feel his stomach squashed onto his plastron, his carapace above him. At least he wasn't on his back; that would've been embarrassing. Rocking on his shell like a fool.

"…Is he delirious…?"

Muscles flexed instinctively, in chronological order, silently cataloguing any major injuries he might've sustained; but it was all for naught. Apart from that annoying ache thrumming through his system like an undercurrent, there was nothing majorly wrong with him. All six of his toes twitched, his fingers following suit, though for some reason they flexed round metal bars.

"…Here's a thought, it might be that serum you gave him…"

'… 'ere's a thought …!' He thought angrily, '…Why not just say ya drugged me! Ya cowardly bunch of 'roaches…!'

Eyes shuddered, opening just a mere fraction. Pupils dilated as they tried to become accustomed to the light of the room, his clammy skin soothed on a surface as smooth and cool as glass. He pulled his other heavy arm towards him, agonisingly slow, while that grating sound permeated his hearing once again. He couldn't focus on that. Something else snagged his attention, spiking the fire within him.

"…It's waking up, father…"

He'd recognise that poisonous voice anywhere.

'…Karai…!'

He was lying stone cold on the floor, location unknown, writhing weakly and drugged in front of Karai! The room spun frantically as he bolted upright, horrified at the thought, though slumped immediately as a sweep of nausea stole his resolve. His head lolled forward, a dead weight pressed atop bent knees as he struggled for every breath. Every harsh inhale, every exhale kept him focused; awake. It was shallow, loud, and weak. The bile barely stayed down.

'…Get it together..!'

"Fascinating things, aren't you?" Karai cooed, her voice sultry and far too close for comfort, hot breath tracing the right side of his head. "I still can't quite get over it."

Fingers followed the line of his mask, trailing to the ragged tips of his tails, a stray finger twirling the fabric delicately while another brushed the nape of his neck. His head snapped up, glaring hatefully at her two faces. At least, he thought he was glaring. She needed to stop swaying already! His brain needed to be released of this painful fog.

'…Stupid drugs, and stupid foot, and stupid Karai, and stupid blurry eyesight, and stupid body that won't respond, and stupid sickness, and stupid Fearless–!'

"See."

Her mouths – there was still two of them – rounded in slow motion, not quite syncing with her voice as it interrupted his mindless mantra. Her voice seemed louder than before, ringing in his ears, addressing an audience even as she stared him down.

"I told you that the red one is stupid. A reckless lone wolf; hot headed." Her eyes narrowed with wicked intent, "Easy to manipulate."

"Hey!" Did he holler that, or was it just a breathy whisper? "Just who are you calling–!"

He swung haphazardly for her, aiming for her smug little face, but a sudden clanging jarred him as his arm connected with bars instead, vibrating from the impact.

'… Of course there are bars, stupid me for thinking that drugs were enough…!'

Frustration clawed at him, demanding attention, but logic ticked, ticked, ticked! The noise was too aggressive for skin on metal contact, the violent vibrations that tore up his arm too strong. Even as his limb slumped uselessly at his side, the room echoed with that clash. It was almost as if he had used a metal rod instead of his bare arm.

As he finally glanced away from her, following the length of his arm in a downward sweep, glazed eyes widened incredulously. Soft, cruel laughter followed as he shakily whispered.

"…The shell…?"

The weapon of his father's enemy glinted up at him with malicious intent, heavier, bulkier and downright more evil than his beloved sai. Gauntlets; they nearly swallowed the entirety of his lower arms, silently mocking him.

"I hope you like your gift, Raphael."

Everything in her voice was a taunt, but it became a mere blip as flashes of his worst fear pounded within. It was his most guarded secret, something that he would never expose, even under the pain of death. When he was at his lowest, he could see its shadow smirking back at him in his own reflection. It was that insane little voice that ordered him to run rampant, to spill blood, to go against everything his father had ever taught him and to give in to the bloodlust; to kill any and all that stood in his way. It was the voice he fought every day as it simmered against his sanity. Worst still, that voice had warped, had taken on a personality. One he despised; his innermost fear.

The Shredder.

His family had never said a word, but they didn't have to. Raphael knew that his temper separated him from his brothers, made him different. He knew it, and they feared it. He knew in his soul that with every fight he was slowly submitting to the ire. He knew that one day, if he didn't gain control, he would become that nightmare; the next Shredder.

But for his enemies to put gauntlets in his hands – Shredder's weapon of choice. It was a cruel joke, a coincidence; it had to be! There was no way he had slipped up and revealed his inner demon.

'… I can't 'ave…!'

"You know, Raph." That sing-song lilt was really grating on his nerves. "It's polite to say thank you when you receive a gift."

'…I don't want 'em you stupid witch…!'

He was quaking uncontrollably, fingers refusing to let go of the bars that kept the gauntlets attached. For one horrifying moment, in his drug induced mind, he truly believed that they had somehow fused the weapons to his arms. Then, mercifully, he gained feeling in his trembling, shell-shocked digits. They cracked open, one by one. It was painfully slow, sluggishly so, but his fingers finally obeyed him and the weapons slipped away, clattered to the floor. His legs were more obedient, kicking the offending metal with as much force as he could muster. The gauntlets didn't go far, slamming against bars less than a few feet in front of him, but it didn't matter. Vicious laughter haunted his actions, but that didn't matter either.

The fog holding his mind captive was slowly clearing, pins and needles tingling throughout his body. It hurt more than the initial aching sensation, but that was a good thing; it meant he was slowly gaining control. The drugs were wavering.

'…Let 'em 'ave their fun…'

He needed to gain his bearings, get his feet beneath him and put faces to the numerous voices so that he could bash their skulls in. He needed to stall them…

"Still silent, I see." Karai slithered, her voice silky smooth, "That's unlike you. Don't you want to play?"

She was the easiest target, directly to his right and squatting down just beyond the bars; within arm reach. She was trying to goad him for a reaction, and normally it would've worked; but at that moment he was shattered and had to focus!

As his eyes swung around the cage, his heart began to plummet. Baxter Stockman was the furthest on the left, hovering like the idiot that he was; he wasn't a problem. To his right, just beyond Karai, stood Fishface. Okay, so a bit more of a challenge, but again, he still stood a good chance. Coupled with the Kunoichi posed more of a problem – but with enough rage, he could take them long enough to make a–! He dreaded to think it, but a tactical retreat! Oh if Fearless could see him now, he'd be rolling it up.

'… Focus…There's plenty of time ta hate on Lame-a-nardo later…!'

That's assuming of course that he got out of this blasted cage. His eyes continued its lazy sweep of his prison, looking for any weak point to exploit until they landed on a warped reflection of himself. A reflection that bounced back at him via mirrored armour, mirrored armour that forced his heart to a stuttering halt.

He vaguely remembered Karai speaking to her father beyond the darkness, but he thought that it was via a phone or something, not here, in person! He was actually standing there just beyond the bars, glowering down at him as though he was crud he had scraped off the sole of his boot.

Even with all of his brothers combined – they barely stood a chance against the Shredder! How was he supposed to get out of this on his own! Fear curdled like a sickness in his gut, slowly paralyzing him; he had to say something, he had to fight it.

"…Ya didn' 'ave ta go ta all this effort for little ol' me…" He knew his teeth were bared beyond a feigned smirk, a growl simmering just beneath, "… Let me out an' I promise to make it a real party…!"

"Now that's more like it." Karai's voice was thoughtful, too close, "The serum must be wearing off."

Inquisitive fingers reached out to touch him again, but this time Raphael spun as quick as lightning, teeth snapping against air, her hand a hair's breath away from becoming fingerless. Now on his feet in the middle of his circular prison, Raph squatted in a jittery, defensive pose, leaning on one fist and growling at his enemies in turn. It was sheer will power that kept him from falling down again, but Raphael refused to submit.

"See." Karai had a cunning glint in her eye as she stood to talk to her father directly, "Much more fun than the blue one. Wouldn't you agree, father."

Something clicked at her callous words, a spark of dread that wouldn't leave him alone. It pulsated with every breath, clung to every heart beat. It refused to be ignored, coiled and wrenched till his breath hitched.

'...The blue one...'

"We shall see."

'...Fearless..!'

Shredder wanted Fearless, his disappointment sang it like a canary; he wanted his perfect big brother. The gong of absolution sounded in his head; now they had leverage. He didn't know what they were planning for certain, and yet the idea refused to fizzle out.

'… If Shredder makes an offer ta Leo, ta trade himself for me…no,no,no,no,NO…!'

His blood ran cold. His honourable brother would do it in a heartbeat, there was no doubt. His self-sacrificing older brother with his stupid morals and his stupid need to protect them! Fearless would make the switch without skipping a beat. He would do it in secret without consulting their father if he could get away with it. As his eyes sought out the Shredder's he knew that he knew it too.

"Stay away from Leo!" He all but snarled, his voice raising several decibels, "You hear me! Stay away from him!"

That fragile modicum of focus snapped like a frail twig as he forced himself to stand. Forget planning and focusing, or trying to get out. Fearless didn't own the monopoly when it came to protecting his brothers, wasn't the only one who felt responsible for the safety of their family. He wasn't going to sit by and let this happen! The familiar flame rolled up from his gut, it whirled with many emotions but in that moment rage dominated the kiln. He could live with that; it was something to work with.

"Wait till I get outta here, Shreadhead!" His hands wrapped around the bars, "I'll kill all a' ya!"

He yanked with all his might, bellowing as his muscles became taut. Control was a distant thing as he lost himself to the bonfire that emanated from his rage, fanned by unadulterated fear. They were going to use him as bait!

'…I won't let 'em…!'

"STAY!"

He quickly changed tactics, pulling himself back only to ram the bars with his shoulder.

"AWAY!"

They clanged with every collision, but the bars weren't budging.

"FROM!"

He threw his entire weight behind every surge, the sound was deafening.

"MY!"

Aching limbs set off signals of pure frailty but he grit his teeth and shoved it down.

"BROTHER!"

The bars finally shuddered under the onslaught and a faint sprinkle of dust fell down from where they were connected to the ceiling. But the pain! Those blasted drugs made his strength wane far too quickly, the fire diminishing as rapidly as it came. It paved the way for his body to express everything he had tried to squash down.

And after all that effort, the bars barely moved an inch. One bar had a slight dent in it. That was it.

'...The shell is this thing made of…?'

Sweaty hands clung to said bars as his legs wobbled beneath him, He was not going to swoon like an idiot or fall down to the amusement of his captors. Broad shoulders heaved with every pant, quaking with the effort to not ram the bars again, to stand tall and not hurl. This wasn't working; he needed to think for once!

"I like this. So angry. So raw." Raph could not mistake the sadistic pleasure that tinged the Shredder's every word. "Hamato Yoshi has tried to calm your primal instincts for far too long. It didn't work very well, did it?"

Raph seethed, a stinging retort desperate to escape, but instead he ground his teeth till they cracked. He wasn't going to give this rusted Tin-Can the satisfaction.

"You were right, my daughter." The Shredder announced, "We will use this one first."

The Shredder stepped up, mere inches from the bars that separated them. His hand was reaching out as if to pet him.

"I have uses for a freak like you."

Rage consumed him, common sense abandoned. Eyes gleamed white and Raph launched forward in a red blaze, hand clamping round the Shredder's wrist and dragging it through the bars. Chaos whirled in frenzy but Raphael's vision had narrowed down to the Shredder's body, pinned against the other side of the bars, and any damage that he could inflict on this monster. His left fist flew in a vicious blur, pounding whatever he could as his right fist held his prey tight.

Was that animalistic roar his own?

"Are you insane!"

Small hands struck the hand keeping the Shredder in place while Fishface roared at Baxter Stockman to lower the bars. The Shredder was bellowing his own fury as his free hand tried to force Raph's head back, but he did not care. He just did not _CARE_!

The bars lowering from the ceiling were a distant thing as they were slowly sucked into the floor around him, were only half way down when a body vaulted over the bars, attacking him from behind. Large, slimy hands grasped his chest and dragged him back with a strength he could not resist, but still he struggled as his prey was wrenched from him. Like a wild, cornered animal he twisted in Fishface's grip and smashed their heads together. He planned to dart away, to somehow find his bearings and run before–!

"ENOUGH!"

Everything diminished to lashing pinpricks of agony, sucker-punching his raging thunder. It was wicked fast and seized him in a merciless hold, mouth frozen on a contorted scream; white hot and blinding, crackling with a vengeance. No inch was spared, he was paralyzed taut.

Then just like that, it ceased, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

Raph writhed weakly, his mind a panicked blank, muscles a spasmodic mess on the floor. As his body tried to curl in on itself, his throat worked to gain precious oxygen round a low, grating whine. It flexed and strained to accommodate the demand, but as it did, some small part of his brain finally noted that it stung several notches above everything else, was the focal point of his suffering.

The smarter part of his brain told him to locate his enemies. Shell, he could practically hear Fearless berating him in a very patronising way, but nothing in that moment concerned him except the prominent line of fire along his neck. The hurt he had just endured, the heavy friction he suddenly felt. A terrible suspicion dawned on him; there was no way!

"Foolish turtle!" He thought it was Fishface, but seriously, who cared! "You dare threaten the master!"

'…Yer master maybe, but not mine…!'

"Filthy mutant!"

'…Karai…Dumb human…!'

"You are not worthy of his time!"

'…Don't give a flying sewer apple…!'

"He's got to have a death wish for sure."

Hands hauled his protesting form to his knees, wrenched his head back by the knot of his bandana so that he had no choice but to gaze up at the Shredder who towered over him.

"You are a mindless freak!" He sneered, before he controlled himself. "But you know that, don't you? It's why you keep breaking away from your clan. Let it go. Stand back! It's no threat to me."

The hands disappeared and Raphael gasped as he struggled to support himself, minute convulsions still wracking his frame. A weak protest from Karai was silenced before she too was shooed back just like his other puppets. The Shredder squatted before him, his armoured face so close the lines blurred.

"You are a freak!" The Shredder repeated slowly, as if expecting an answer.

"…Maybe…" Raph's reply was barely a rasp, "…Won' be-!" His throat was so dry! So weak! "…like…'hem...!"

Something else caught Raphael's attention, beyond the Kabuto, and he couldn't help himself.

"…n-nice…" His smirk was small but triumph, "…shiner…"

'…Did I knock 'is Kabuto off an' punch 'im square in the face…?'

Mocking laughter bubbled. It was a faint, scratchy sound in a tortured mouth, but it was enough for the Shredder to silently smoulder.

'…Can't even remember doin' it…!'

"…my own … brother … can't get me ta … ta obey 'im…" Defiant green eyes flamed through hooded lids even when his voice faltered, "…you ain' … got a hopin' shell … chump!"

A gauntlet blade slid across his jugular in response, a mere whisper that left a warning slit, silencing him immediately.

"Yes, well, your brother didn't have this." He tilted his gauntlet at an angle. "Look down, right here."

Humouring the nut case, Raphael looked where the Shredder pointed. The mirrored length of the gauntlet reflected the side of his neck perfectly, showcasing mottled green skin and a trail of blood that stemmed from the blade pressed along the underside of his face. The sight below it turned his stomach, his suspicion cemented.

'…He _collared_ me…!'

Raph swallowed passed a lodged lump, shaking with repressed rage. He knew he couldn't lose control again, could never hope to overpower the Shredder while at full strength, let alone now when he was a shivering wreck.

That didn't mean he couldn't trade insults.

"…yer one … sick … puppy!"

"And you," The Shredder countered, "are MY freak. My animal to break!"

"…if ya … really believe …tha–Argh!" Raph wheezed low, his voice straining under the pressure.

'… I'll neva fall in ta line like yer other ickle soldiers …!' His mind screamed at him, '…NEVA…!'

"…then ya … betta' … finis' me…" Dammit, everything hurt! "…be…fore … I … off …ya…!"

Everything was a fight! Why?! It was a fight to keep his head up, to stay on his knees, to face his enemy head on. Perspiration slicked his ragged skin while every word he spoke seared. His mind was a sickened, stifling haze. Bile churned, slowly clawing up his throat. Though for every struggle he fought, the Shredder sat on his hunches as if he were merely observing the weather, dominance oozing from his every pore.

"Kill you?" The Shredder laughed, a slick, sinister tone that would make demons flinch back. "No, stupid freak. Where's the fun in that?"

"As for you killing me?" He paused, retracting his own weapon as he effortlessly stood. "Well…!"

A familiar whirring sound caught Raph's ear. It was a sound he had learned to love over many, many years. It was the sweet call of his beloved sai's, the weapons his father had entrusted to him. The weapons he had trained with everyday to the point where they defined a major part of him, the weapons that were now being thoroughly tainted by his enemy.

"How do you plan to do that, without these?" He waved said weapons back and forth in a condescending way. "Hmmm?"

"Get your filthy hands offa _my_ weapons!"

Blood pounded through his ears as Raph launched himself again – unthinking – blocking out everything else with this desperate burst of effort, dredging up whatever fumes he had left to torch. His feet pushed against the ground as he charged, but one blink later and he was suddenly on his back behind his enemy.

'…Did he just …use MY own move on ME…!'

The bewildered thought was blank as his helpful brain provided him with brief flashes of the Shredder side stepping him, following the length of his flailing fist and twisting the Sai round his wrist to launch him.

"Do not make me electrocute you again." The Shredder warned, "Not when I'm feeling merciful."

A silhouette shadowed Raphael's body, his enemy leaning over him, feet planted either side of his head. It mirrored all those times that Raph would lord it over Fearless whenever he pulled his signature move on his older sibling. Not so unique now.

'…No…Don't think on it…Get away from 'im…!'

"… you … merci…ful … " Raph spat, shifting jerkily. "… Just who are… ya tryin'… ta kid…"

He scurried back a few paces until his abused body refused to function. It was undignified to say the least, but the only thing that registered was a despairing need to gain some distance. Laughter crackled from their audience but was silenced by Shredder's hand gesture. The sudden tension was unbearable.

"Do you know how old these weapons are?" The Shredder finally asked, looking at them longingly, his gaze distinctly reminiscent. "They've been passed down from generation to generation of Hamato's finest; for hundreds of years! Who do you think owned these before you did, hmmm? I am Yoshi's brother after all." His eyes narrowed dangerously, "Or at least I was."

Raphael was stunned as the implication rammed home, face flitting with horror. There was no way!

"You might've covered the hilts with this vile _red leather_ but underneath, its original beauty remains. I would recognise my Sai anywhere." He twirled one thoughtfully, distracted. "I always did wonder what happened to them after my last strike with them. Now I know. Thank you for returning them to me, you've been most helpful."

'…No,no,no,no,no… Ignore 'im Raph, Master splinter would neva do that ta ya…'

"The day I got these was memorable, still feels like yesterday when I stood shoulder to shoulder with my cowardly brother; stood before our father. Yoshi, of course, received the katana!"

'…Sensei would neva…compare me ta…ta…!'

But he couldn't deny that raw bitterness, the resentment. It hit closer to home then Raphael would ever care to admit to. The fog did nothing to alleviate his sudden paranoia, his innermost demon smirking at him, tugging at his self-worth. The similarities between the two of them were many, far too many to shrug way as mere coincidences. Maybe Master Splinter saw it in him all those years ago. Was it possible? Did his own father see him as a lost cause…?

'…But then, why train me…?'

"At first I thought it was because Yoshi was the better brother, the perfect son! But now I know better. The truth will always out." The Shredder continued, caught up in the past, "Turns out I wasn't a Hamato at all. I was stolen away from my own heritage by a spiteful old man who thought he could make use of me!"

'…'e's tryin' ta – ta mess with yer 'ead, Raph, that's all this is…!'

The Shredder was suddenly on his knees between splayed green legs, deranged face Kabuto-less and mere inches away. His left hand snaked round the back of Raphael's head to hold him in place, a mocking imitation of Fearless's comforting hold, hurling pure hatred. Raph could barely lift a hand to stop him he was so spent. Could hardly keep his eyes open. A Sai glinted between them.

"I waited until my so-called father was sleeping like a baby and then I jammed these straight threw his heart!" The Shredder sneered through a locked jaw, more ferocious then audible. Raph doubted anyone could hear the poisonous words beyond himself. "You're more than welcome to tell. Yoshi suspected my involvement of course, but he had no proof – could do nothing. Rumours claimed it was a rival clan attack. No one ever realised that it was my family's clan or that I raised it from the dead!"

"Of course, Yoshi found an entirely different reason to despise me. Ironic, isn't it?" The Shredder ranted. "He wanted my love, MY Tang Shen! He wanted her and my child and when he couldn't have them, he wanted revenge! He tried to kill me but only succeeded in murdering my beloved. I escaped with my daughter and haven't heard anything since; until most recently – when I saw the Hamato fighting style reflected in four freaky tortoises!"

"–We're Ninja…Turtles–!"

Fingers dug into his scalp and Raph winced, tried to dislodge the vice-like grip and shuffle away. The Shredder growled at the pitiful resistance and shook his prey's head until he stopped squirming.

"So in answer to your question … Yes, you pathetic creature, I am showing mercy, because Hamato Yoshi chose _you_ to be the successor of _my_ weapons. The fact that you're a disgusting abomination is beside the point! Just one last way for my so-called brother to get back at me! To compare me; to you!"

'…Don't listen ta 'im…!'

In his mind Raphael was trying to decide if this was the worst moment of his life. Motionless, powerless, before his father's greatest enemy. Utterly alone, questioning his family – the only good in his life. Why was he alone? Where were his brothers anyway? It was something Raphael would have worried over if he wasn't caught in the grasp of a crazed nutcase, especially when said nutcase was spewing poison about his father.

'…One problem at a time, Raph…!'

"…Wow…" His voice had gained some of its strength back, rumbling with dark amusement. "…Ya really believe … what yer shovelling, doncha! … That's uber sad … really…ya need help…"

To say his eyes were struggling to stay open would be a huge understatement, but that spark of defiance didn't waver in the slightest. The hand that captured his head tightened further in warning, but it didn't matter. He didn't have any physical reserves left to fight with, was surrounded by enemies with no help in site. A growl emanated from the Shredder, and Raphael's smile widened. There was a strong possibility that he was going to die here, might as well enjoy it.

"…Hey Shredhead…I gotta story for ya…Since we're tradin' an' all…I promise ya'll…love it…It's a doozy…" He didn't wait for Shredder's approval, using whatever he had left to raise his voice slowly as he stared down his tormentor. "…There was a man…'is life was simple … but 'e was 'appy with 'is small family…There was only one catch…'is brother was jealous. Insane!…'e went on a rampage…"

'…Blaze of glory…Blaze of glory…!'

"That brother was you, Shredder! Ya murdered Tang Shen! Ya did it! Not my father!" He spat his accusations as loudly as he could, "Ya burned down the family dojo! Ya stole 'is daught–!"

*WHACK!*

His head snapped to the side with a grunt, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but inwardly he cheered. In fact, Raphael Hamato was ecstatic to have gained such a vicious response. His youngest brother's voice crowed in his head.

'…You got him good, Raphie!…He got spanked…hahahahaha!'

With his head bowed to the side he subtly sought out Karai who stood obediently in the line of soldiers, waiting for direct orders from her master. He might've hated her, especially when she messed with Fearless's heart strings, but she was the key to bringing peace to their father; Hamato Yoshi. If his last act was to spark her curiosity enough to seek him out, then he could live with that; it was one last stab at his enemy – to lose the daughter he'd stolen in the first place. As their gazes finally locked she gave nothing away, but he smirked anyway. He'd hit that proverbial nail. He'd done his best.

Shredder caught the smug look, saw exactly who it was aimed at, knew what it meant and roared. Raphael was hauled to his feet under the guise of a choke hold, dragged bodily passed all the lackeys who hadn't moved an inch but watched with sardonic pleasure.

"I'm BORED with you!"

It was the only words he could make out from all the shrieking! The lack of oxygen didn't help in the slightest or his useless legs that scrambled beneath him. A green fist hit out against whatever flesh he could find but it was pathetically weak, only delaying the inevitable. This was it. He was going to die here.

'…Gotta…Keep…Fightin'…!'

The Shredder dropped him like a dead weight, body thudding against the floor. Shaking limbs strained under his sheer mass, the survivor in him refusing to cave in, screaming at him with sharp clarity. Less fog clogged his brain now as minute details vied for his attention, his site retaining more and more with each passing moment. Finally he could see beyond his sadistic audience, noted that the Shredder's throne was directly in front of him but a ways back, knew where he was; knew where he was positioned in said room. The exit, his brain clicked, was directly behind him! If he scuttled back enough, maybe he could find the door and escape! But the Shredder stood before him with Karai and Fishface directly behind him, a row of foot soldiers flanking them. There was no way he could get away from all of them!

The Shredder raised his Sai, a wicked glint in his eye. The irony wasn't lost to him. He could hear Fearless in his head, demanding that he get up and find a way home! It was bickering with another voice in his head, one that had catalogued every injury sustained; Donnie! Mikey's voice chimed in occasionally, adding to his sudden migraine. That tears it; he'd finally cracked. He'd lost those sewer apples. He'd–!

*THUD!*

"Take this!" The Shredder spat, overriding his jumbled thoughts, one of his Sai embedded in the floor mere inches from his hand. "And go!"

'…Wait? What!…'e…' e's lettin' me go…?'

"...w–why...?" Raphael didn't even realise he had spoken out loud, but prised his precious sai from the floor, almost hugging it to his plastron.

"We're going to play a little game." The Shredder sneered in response. "You have ten seconds to run, and then they," He gestured to the group of lackey's behind him, "will hunt you down like the animal you are. The kill is more fun when you have a bit of a chance. Don't you think so?"

"And this," The Shredder spun his other sai, "is my guarantee that you'll come back to me, just in case you do manage to escape. You'll be a sport and come back for this, won't you?"

That taunting lilt, he was toying with him! The first rule of being a ninja was well known; never lose your weapons! How often had Master Splinter drilled that into their heads, berating Raph every single time he launched one of his Sai like a throwing knife. In his arrogance he assumed he'd get them back, always had he got them back. But now…?

One shaking foot planted itself on the floor rebelliously. He was going to get his weapon back if it was the last thing he did–ARGH!

Lightning! White hot and blinding! A piercing yelp tore through his mouth as it pummelled his frame, and then it stopped. His body slumped back down, impacting hard; sprawled and wasted.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" Shredder's voice taunted him, cutting through the lingering, twitching haze of pain, "Good. Now, when I start the countdown – then you can move, understood!"

"Oh, and one last thing, listen, because this is very important. If, by some miracle, you do make it home, tell Hamato Yoshi that I will tear his family part. Piece! By! Piece! You, freak, were the first. Dishonoured and broken, but maybe Yoshi will forgive you in time – if you beg him." A boot nudged under his plastron, the doors flung wide open. "Now freak; Run!"

With that his plastron was booted and his body rolled. Thwack! Thwack! THWACK! Each stone step forced a pain-filled grunt until there were no more and he skidded on his plastron to a jarring halt. Everything screeched in agony but his will roared. Raphael winced with every movement, was slow to rise up, a jittery mess that desperately wanted to surrender. It would be so easy to just fall back down…

"Can turtles even run?" A sinuous voice called out, slicing through the pain, re-igniting his rage; Karai! "No seriously, I thought turtles were supposed to be slow creatures."

"…Ten…"

'…SLOW…!'

"…Nine…"

Green digits flexed around one Sai as he reeled to his hunches, driving every sensation down to the very pit of his gut. He could worry about it all later! Just get up already!

"…Eight…"

His left hand felt so empty without his other precious Sai, but there was nothing – Nothing he could do!

"…Seven…"

Fingers grazed over his belt as his mind ticked rampantly. There was no way they'd be stupid enough to –! A brow ridge rose incredulously.

"…Six…"

One bump, two bump, three! Yes! Silent thanks chanted away in his head to a brother who couldn't hear him.

"…Five…"

If he survived this, he was going to bear hug his super intelligent brother senseless.

"…Four…"

Aching limbs flexed subtly as he shifted into a fighting stance, right arm crossed over his plastron. White eyes stared down the army before him as they shared befuddled glances. A growl tousled the night air.

"…Three…"

"Seriously, Red, you have a death wish!" Fishface drawled, caught between dismay and awe. "Stubborn turtle!"

"…Two…"

His sweating left fist clutched his last resort, and behind his poker face, Raphael prayed.

"…ONE…!"

***TMNT*** END Of PROLOGUE ***TMNT***