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You'd think, with all the possession jokes made at his expense, Donnie would be the one dragged into the deep dark hole and bent to the whims of a mystic eldritch horror straight from their nightmares.
It isn't.
And it's not funny. Not at all.
They get a tip about abnormal activity in an old toy factory—a little too close to a mystic doorway for comfort, no matter how well hidden or barely used. Leo leads the charge with all the raring arrogance he's still learning to curb a year after Splinter's half-cocked decision (Donnie is still questioning it, debating on the legalities of sibling murder), Raph puts on a brave face—still not over the Mrs Cuddles incident—and takes up the rear, leaving Mikey and Donnie in the middle as they plunge into the dark, dank, disturbingly destitute factory.
A dark, dank, disturbingly destitute factory with a gaping hole in the floor. Blown outwards like something had clawed its way out from below. Something big.
They steer clear of the hole. Donnie activates the headlights from his battle shell as they survey the rest of the main floor.
It looks like a hurricane of rabid hamsters had passed through. Concrete piles sit like boulders from the gaping roof, wires hanging and sparking lazily from the ceiling and machinery. Water drips somewhere from a pipe and echoes across the space, and soot and dust bunnies claw their way up Donnie's nose without mercy as he fights a sneeze.
There are mud tracks, prints and clots of inky black something spattering the walls and floors, smeared like someone had dragged their fingers across it while still damp, towards the massive hole. It's thick and smells awful, and—
“Is that blood?” Mikey squeaks from Donnie's left. Leo and Raph freeze. Donnie pulls down his goggles, running the scans and—
Oh god. “... yes and no.”
“And what the hell does that mean?” Leo hisses. Donnie doesn't know when they'd all shuffled together but, for once, he doesn't complain about the proximity. He can feel Raph's massive frame trembling behind him.
Still, he pins Leo with a withering frown. “It means it came from something alive but not entirely organic. It's more like oil than blood, but somehow they share comparable properties—”
“'Not entirely organic',” Raph parrots, horrified eyes wide. “So it's like part real, part not-real? Is that what you're sayin'? Something half-real just bled all over the floor and got dragged into that pit?”
Donnie shrugs, jostling Mikey's death grip on his arm. “Essentially.”
A pause.
“I'm gonna hurl,” Raph says, turning away and hugging his stomach.
“Can we just leave?” Mikey whimpers, shaking Donnie's arm. “Can we go home and forget about this? The Hidden City Police can handle this, right? Why should we have to—?”
“Because one, Eff cops,” Leo says, stepping from the turtle huddle to peer into the hole, keeping a distance from the jagged metal edge, “and two, we're the best turtles for the job! If whatever did all this makes it to the surface, there's no telling what kind of damage it'll do or who it'll hurt before the HCP or NYPD can stop it—if they can. Better to ninja our way in and ninja its face now before it gets that chance.”
Donnie stares at his twin's shell and marvels for a beat. He forgets sometimes that, under all the fanfare and arrogance, his brother does have his moments that answer the question of why Splinter decided to make him the official leader. But they're still so rare a find that it's easy to forget and get mad like Raph tries his best not to be.
And despite himself, Donnie really wishes his 'leader' moment didn't have to come in the creepy toy factory of death.
“I dunno, Leo,” Donnie mutters, letting himself lace his fingers with Mikey's as he scans the room, aware of every dripping pipe and flashing wire. “I have to agree with Mikey for once. This feels off, more so than our usual mystic episodic hi-jinks. I want out of here yesterday.”
Donnie doesn't see Leo roll his eyes, but it's in how he spins on his heel, turns his back on the hole, and pins them with a Look. “C'maaaan, you're really gonna chicken out here? Where was this 'caution' or 'bad vibes don't touch' attitude when Big Mama nearly scammed us straight into the Battle Nexus, hm?”
“You're never gonna let that go, are you?” Raph drones. They're on marginally better terms with the old spider bint these days, but Leo hordes grudges. He still hasn't fully forgiven Draxum, and they have him over for dinner every other week.
“I'm just saying!” Leo shrugs, hands on his hips in a way that reads like he's gearing up for another argument. “Besides, you're always telling me to start acting like a hero, so why—?”
A gnarly pink hand bursts from the abyss.
Donnie meets Leo's terrified eyes just as it snatches him around the waist and pulls him, screaming, into the dark.
“LEO!”
~0o0~
It feels like hours, but Donnie times it.
Fifteen minutes, forty-two seconds since Leo was taken. Fifteen minutes, forty-four since they leapt after him. Fifteen minutes, fifty since Leo's comms and tracker went dead.
Sixteen minutes since they found his swords abandoned and splattered with blood on the floor.
Donnie doesn't let go of Mikey's hand as his youngest brother fights tears. Raph is a steady presence at the front of the pack as they roam the dark despite how his clenched fists tremble. With rage or fear, Donnie isn't sure. Perhaps it's both.
“Ooohh! New playmates!”
Donnie's neck cracks when he snaps his head up.
And oh, how he wishes it was him instead. God how he wishes it was him. They could tentatively joke about it afterwards, prove Leo 'right' in a way he'd never wanted and would never allow again.
But Donnie stares at Leo's too-wide eyes and too-wide smile, that pink—thing holding him with a long arm wrapped thrice around his wooden shoulders and arms, and knows he'll be seeing this in his nightmares.
This isn't funny. Not at all.
“It's been so long,” the Thing croons, its voice high and chipper and feminine, big green eyes unblinking as it (she, who cares) stares at them below, gaping and frozen. It turns its oversized head to Leo. “Isn't this exciting, Little Blue?”
“Very exciting, Mommy!” Leo chirps back, and god, no. His voice—distorted, like two people talking at once from one body, one too-wide smiling mouth, the mechanical joints and lifeless colours—that's not Leo. That's not his twin, his little brother—
It's Leo, but not Leo's body.
And suddenly, Donnie's not quite as afraid. He's pissed.
“What,” Donnie's voice bites like ice and spits venom through grinding teeth, “did you do with my brother?”
The Thing—Mommy—giggles. Not-Leo giggles with her.
“Oh, don't worry, darling! Little Blue is going to be Mommy's special helper today! He's such a good boy, and he loves to play! Don't you, baby?”
“Yes, Mommy! I love to play games!”
Mikey slaps his hands over his mouth to smother a sob. Raph looks seconds from retching or getting very, very violent. Donnie's fingers ache for Leo's swords held tight in Raph's grip. He can't wield them for shit, but he can at least make the thing bleed, make it hurt, make it slow—
Mommy explains the terms of the Games. Complete all three rounds, and they'll get the key to the generator room; the source of the mystic energy bleeding life into every inanimate thing in the factory. Of course.
“And if you win all three games, Mommy will let Little Blue go home with you!” Not-Leo adds.
“Oh, Mommy loves that idea, Little Blue! We're going to have so much fun together. Head to Musical Memory, and Mommy will get things started! Oh, Little Blue, would you mind giving them the conditions?”
“Yes, Mommy!”
Mommy's arm stretches, not once letting the Leo puppet go but lowering him down enough to meet their eyes. This close, the wooden carving and glossy sheen are clear. It's not Leo, not quite. But—
“Obey the rules,” he says darkly. Still smiling. Staring into Donnie.“Or we'll tear you apart and eat your insides. While you're still alive.”
And then they're gone, giggling manically into the shadows.
Donnie makes a vow.
The pink bitch dies.
~0o0~
The 'games' are rigged as hell, because of course they are. But Mommy hasn't met the Mad Dogz; sore winners, experts in Smashing, and the living hell of any who dares to steal one of their own.
Donnie can hear her losing her patience behind her cheerful front. It's almost satisfying until she takes her frustrations out on Leo.
And it's not Leo's body—it's a puppet, a vessel that feels no pain, thoughts or feelings outside of whatever Mommy wants. But Leo is in there, seeing everything, giggling and pleading in that too-chipper voice through the speakers--“stop hurting me, Mommy, I can do better, honest!”
Donnie hasn't wanted anything dead more since the Shredder.
The last 'game' is their would-be tomb. The exits are sealed off by mounds of debris that Donnie knows hadn't been there when they entered the room, and they're chased about in the dark by a disarmingly cute little toy that nearly rips Mikey's arm off when it gets too close.
'Killed by toys. What a stupid way to die,' Donnie thinks.
He can only imagine what Leo must be thinking, trapped inside a wooden carving of himself, forever attached to that terrifying creature. She's lonely, she'd lamented to them, left to die alone when the factory was shut down, life breathed into them by a leak of mystic energy from god knows where.
Not good enough. Donnie wants her dead.
And then he sees it. A gap in the rubble, big enough to fit them. Bingo.
He signals his brothers. They read him fine—they always do—and wait for the lights to go out.
The room goes dark, and Donnie sprints for the gap. They squeeze through just as the lights flicker back on. The little creature doesn't see them, can't, and wanders in a confused circle in the now-empty arena.
And then Donnie feels it. A familiar tug at his chest that shouldn't be possible but is no longer questioned. A call he'll always heed no matter where in the city—the world—he could be.
Leo's life force may be trapped in the puppet, but his body is here.
Donnie follows the pull. Raph and Mikey, already knowing in their own ways, stumble after him.
Back in the room, Mommy calls for them.
~0o0~
They find Leo strung up against a wall, oozing wires like vines along his arms, torso and legs, suspending him inches off the floor. They seep into him, into his wrists and shoulders, and one thick, long, disgusting black pulsing thing shoved down his throat.
This time, Raph does throw up. Mikey stands frozen, wide-eyed, and Donnie barely holds it together.
They don't have long before Mommy catches up, so Donnie pulls Raph up by the arm, shakes Mikey, and gets to work.
The vines are cut easily enough with Raph's sais, but Donnie flinches when his fingers brush the pulsing tube in his twin's throat. Every nerve in his body screams 'no no no no this is my worst freaking nightmare'—but his twin, his little brother, is suffering with that thing inside him, the tether between the puppet Mommy carts around like a plaything and hurts when she doesn't get her way—
Screw it.
“This is gonna suck, Leo,” he says, reaching for the tube and shivering, holding back bile, at the slippery, pulsing wetness against his palms and fingers oh god. “And I don't know if you can hear me or feel this, but if you can, this may or may not hurt or feel extremely uncomfortable, and it's seriously disgusting like something straight out of 'Stranger Things' which I cannot watch for that exact reason so I apologize in advance—!”
“Oh my god, Donnie, just pull it out!” Raph whisper-cries. Mikey gags behind him, barely keeping down whatever's left of dinner.
Donnie sucks in a breath and pulls. And pulls. And pulls, oh sweet baby Jesus how long is this thing, how did it fit inside his body oh lord—?!
A final tug pulls the slimy tether free from Leo's throat. Leo jerks awake with frantic sobbing gasps of air, eyes wide and wild, limbs flailing as if to fend off an attack. Donnie tosses the vine aside and pulls Leo in, pressing their sweaty foreheads together.
“Leo, Leo, shh, it's me, it's Donnie,” he soothes. Leo's still gasping, tears running down his cheeks, hands grasping at Donnie's shoulders. Donnie cups his damp face between his hands and locks their eyes. “Easy, brother, easy, easy. It's over, you're safe. I've got you.”
Donnie is no good at consolation, uncomfortable with emotions on a good day. But for his brothers, he'll always try, and right now it's enough for Leo as he all but collapses against Donnie, his embrace a desperate, bruising thing that Donnie allows and returns. Mikey squeezes his way between them, and Raph comes in like the wrecking ball of love he is and plucks them off the floor, nuzzling the top of Leo's head.
Leo trembles in Donnie's arms. Donnie holds him tighter.
Then Mommy is screaming.
“How DARE you disobey me?! How DARE you take Little Blue from me?!”
Leo goes ridged, claws digging into Donnie's biceps. Raph nearly drops them.
They're out of time.
And yet—“Mommy's very angry,” Leo wheezes.
It's so bad, ill-timed and yet Donnie, for once, laughs. It's more of a startled gasp, but he's grinning. “I freaking hate you, 'Nardo,” he says. Still shaking, Leo grins back.
Raph scoops Leo up bridal style into his arms—his legs won't hold him, and he doesn't complain—and they scramble for the exit.
Mommy bellows after them.
~0o0~
Donnie's throat is dry and sore from screaming as they're chased through hallways and down cracked staircases by the demented horror that is Mommy. Her gurgling screeches and hysterical laughter set his nerves alight with fear he hasn't felt since a similar creature nearly tore his shell open.
She hunts them down to the generator room--how convenient--and it's no time at all for Donnie to decipher the rest of the code to get inside with what Mommy had already given them.
But Mommy finds them, galloping down the hall in a mess of curling limbs and dilated pupils, and the doors aren't opening fast enough. Leo and Mikey scream. Raph swears a storm. Donnie's mechanical arms rip the doors open the rest of the way and they collapse inside, narrowly missing a grinder.
Mommy isn't so lucky and slams into the machine, her plastic hand caught in the gears.
Her wild eyes meet Donnie's.
Donnie feels nothing when he reaches for the lever.
“Goodnight, Mommy,” he hisses. He yanks the lever down.
Her final screams ring in his ears as she's crushed in the gears. Raph turns away, shielding Leo and Mikey's eyes from the gore. Donnie feels nothing.
And just like that, it's over.
The minute they're back out in the cool air of the surface, dawn breaking behind the skyscrapers, Donnie turns to his brothers with eyes of steel. “We're blowing this place up,” he says with all the casual air of one discussing the weather.
Leo reaches for him over Raph's bicep with a trembling hand, grinning. “Can I press the big red button?”
Donnie thinks of how long it'll take to build a bomb big enough to erase any evidence of the factory's existence off the face of the earth. How many nights it'll be before Leo (or any of them) can sleep alone. How he should've done more to that bitch for every second his twin was trapped in that room with a tube down his throat.
He clasps Leo's hand and grins back. “Brother, you can press all of the big red buttons.”