Chapter Text
PHHHSHSSSSSSSSSSSSS! The spray paint can sounded out as it coated the brick wall Mikey was squatted next to with a blanket of electric green. He slowly moved his arm up, up, up, and with a final flick of his wrist he completed the base layer of his newest masterpiece. Maybe it was just the paint fumes getting to him, but he was sure it was going to be his best one yet.
Adding a flurry of yellow, blue, purple, red, and every hue in-between lit the once-dreary wall up as Mikey breezed through them with, well, flying colors. He allowed his mind to wander in circles as his hands worked almost as separate beings with minds of their own. ‘Oh, I should really check up on things at the puppy farm!’ morphed into ‘I wonder if April and the Caseys have seen the new Dr. Monster video? I heard he locked himself in the center of the earth..’ and then again into a scene of him fighting a giant pasta monster after he’d made the dough with water instead of eggs (he was in the wrong for that one, honestly.)
He picked up the final orange can with a flourish, and used his thumb to push down onto the nozzle, which... did nothing? For a moment, he believed the paint to be faulty, but his theory was disproved when he allowed himself to zone back into reality. His thumb was trembling, and he found himself unable to put any pressure down despite his best efforts.
Well, rat dad of a turtle. He dropped his tools and held his hand to his plastron, uncomfortably aware of each movement of the tendons in it as they burned inside the limb that he knew all too well was attached to the rest of his body.
He rubbed circles into the joint, but it seemed to be a lost cause. ‘Well, there’s always tomorrow!’ he thought to himself in a futile attempt to keep the frustration that bubbled in his chest at bay. He chucked the can at his forever-unfinished artwork and grabbed the canvas bag he’d toted to the spot to avoid the paint splatter as it hit the wall.
He pushed a hand into the mess and paused, allowing it to dry onto his scales. Marking himself in the same way he’d marked the unfinished painting of his family: with an orange explosion. He peeled it off gently, not to rile up his delicate princess of a thumb, and started walking. His thoughts were a bit quieter and angrier this time, until one appealing one popped into his skull.
‘I wonder if Barry is busy?”
---
After a shriek that was sophisticated and certainly didn’t crack Draxum’s reading glasses, Donnie swarmed his second (worse) father with a stream of questions.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE A SISTER? How is this possible, I thought Papà took all of us when he ran from your not-at-all-creepy lab? WHY DID YOU NOT TELL US THIS? How would being around her ‘activate an ability’? Where is she, I would like to give her this titanium friendship bracelet with a tracker on it. And run blood tests. I HAVE A SISTER?” He shook Barry by the shoulders and began to pace around the coffee table.
He was quickly stopped by the agitated goatman, who pushed him with surprising gentleness onto one of the rickety dining room chairs.
Draxum was silent as he filled a mug (slightly misshapen, clearly made by Mikey), along with a bedazzled pink tumbler, with water. The mug was pushed over to Donnie, and he was given a look that said ‘ if you comment on the sentimental nature of this item or damage it in any way I will put you back in that ooze.’ He kept the tumbler in his hand and sat across from his creation.
Donnie glared as he caught the water. “Are you ready to answer, or do I need to pull out the big guns? ” He pulled out his phone and hovered threateningly over April’s contact.
The prospect of having to deal with an angry Donnie AND an angry O’Neil family seemed to be enough to rouse him, and he spoke: “I mean there was a fifth turtle which I used Lou Jitsu’s DNA to mutate. I held her in a separate area from the four of you, so he most likely didn’t see her. I did not wish to upset you or any of your family members. And, as for your last two questions...” His jaw clenched as he steeled himself, and Donnie took a sip from the cup, wincing from the irony taste.
“When I decided to make turtle warriors instead of any other animal, it was because of the built in shields your shells provide you with. However, the concept of soft shells... It intrigued me. I realized that to have a truly balanced team, I would need a mixture of fighters who could tank hits AND more agile ones. I chose three hard-shelled specimen and two soft-shelled ones. Naturally, your species was top of my list due to your flexibility.”
One of Donnie’s titanium arms flitted out from his battle shell and began to take notes.
“I felt, however, that you would still be at a disadvantage in comparison to your brothers. So, I evened the scales. Each of you had an ability which would shift to be useful to the soldiers which you would grow into. Because I intended to train the two of you as one unit, I hoped you would grow into something that would protect the team as a whole. However, because of the separation and your reliance on technology over your own body, I don’t doubt you will end up with some sort of technopathy.”
Donnie attempted to not squeal as he comprehended what had just been told to him. TECHNOPATHY! Oh, the future he’d planned of becoming a sick cyborg was going to be even better than he’d dreamed.
He took a breath (after the high pitched noise that still came from his unwilling mouth) and focused back on his questioning. “But because you were going to train us together... our powers won’t trigger unless we’re together?”
“Initially, yes. I suppose it was a contingency on my part, in case one of you was compromised. However, it isn’t a system that relies on physical closeness. It is more of an emotional process, unfortunately. As much as I tried to circumvent that, mystic energy is extremely..” Draxum paused for a moment, and the next word came out with a gagging sound, “sappy.” He waved a cloven hand to dismiss the questions that he could tell were forming on the tip of Donnie’s tongue.
“And your last question. My fifth creation is far beyond your reach now. She was always the most.. fragile, of any of you, hence why I kept her separated. She was all I had after the four of you escaped, but she was taken by a beast shortly after.”
“A BEAST?”
“Yes. He appeared to be a regular dog yokai at first glance, but he had jagged spikes in his back. A collar of some sort, too. It said Gus, I believe? In any case, I was already catatonic, and failed to rescue her. I presumed he ate her and began my attempts to recreate my experiment.”
Donnie went slack-jawed. “Barry. Baron Draxum. Man who I will someday take out of this world the same way he put me in.” Draxum opened his mouth to question the last thing, but Donnie persisted. “GUS IS BIG MAMA’S RIGHT HAND MAN! Not only is she definitely alive, but we know exactly where to find her!”
His creator’s facial expression was nearly unreadable. Donnie, who had taken several face language classes over the summer, saw terror, excitement, and a dash of guilt, but there were more levels that even an expert such as he missed. Barry remained silent for a few moments, the strength of his grip on the tumbler causing rhinestones to flake off of it and onto the floor.
He continued to stare downward for what must have been a millenia (it was actually 6.38 seconds. And counting.) as Donnie began thinking of the possibilities. He’d been crossing his fingers for table scraps all night, only to find out he had TECHNOPATHY? And a sister. That was significant also. Friendship and family and ooey gooey things.
He was snapped from his thoughts as Barry stood up, chair screeching wretchedly as he did. His eyes looked glassy (Donnie’s professional opinion: rabies.) and he started to walk toward the door, completely ignoring hosting etiquette. Donnie, who was very passionate about rules, shoved in front of him.
“Hello? Earth to Draxum? Where are you going?”
He felt the Baron’s eyes flicker down to him. “If my.. If my fifth creation is truly under the care of Big Mama, I must go retrieve her at once. I’ve witnessed first hand what being in the Battle Nexus can do to someone.”
“BATTLE NEXUS BREAK IN? JUST THE TWO OF US?” Donnie shouted, pumping a normal hand and two titanium ones into the air with triumph. “Barry, you’re well on your way to finally winning the World’s Best Dad mug this year! What’ll that make it, 1-16?”
Draxum scowled, ignoring Donnie’s charm and witty quips. “Absolutely not, I will be going in alone. I have no interest in sentimental dishware - Donatello, if you say what I assume you’re going to say, I will find a way to make retromutagen - and you don’t need to risk your safety. Also, I find you annoying.”
“GAAASP, HURTFUL REMARK FROM A PARENTAL FIGURE! Donatello, you truly are a saint to take these cutting words instead of.. Let’s see.. Telling the whole family we have a secret sister that Barry didn’t mention because he LOST HER?”
“Are you trying to blackmail me, youngling?” Draxum snarled, just enough to show the pointed edges of his teeth. Very rabies of him.
“I would never stoop to such levels! I’m simply saying that if someone were to ask me where our dear progenitor has gone to, I would tell them! Honesty is a policy we here at GeniusBuilt believe in and exploit for profit like no other.” Donnie smiled a bit, leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter.
Barry paused to consider his options. If the Hamato Clan found out, they’d all come running after him and make a mess of things (the family specialty) and he’d have to deal with no one trusting him. Again. Donnie, the world’s smartest, strongest, and overall best mutated turtle ninja teen had beaten him once again.
“Very well, then. You’ll tell your father and brothers that I’m taking you on as a lab assistant in the city, and you have to promise me this: you won’t attempt to manifest your powers.”
“Sure, old man.” Donnie agreed smoothly, as he averted his eyes and buckets of sweat poured off his forehead.
“Donatello, I’m quite serious. For both your sake and hers, do not push them to the surface. I don’t know what it will do to the two of you without training.”
Donnie managed a small nod in response and decided to question further once it was too late for Barry to back out.
The two planned out logistics on how to convince Big Mama to let them into the Nexus, agreeing the only answer was for one of them to enter themself. Barry volunteered and soon Donnie was on his way out of the apartment, feeling like not quite the same turtle that he walked in as. He grabbed the door with a titanium hand (and thank Newton he had, because the thing was covered in orange paint. Eugh.) and began his trek home, daydreaming of new friends and lasers he could shoot with his mind.