Chapter Text
Data collection. He needs to calm down, so he needs to collect data. He and Mikey were just punched off the surface of a spaceship (the most beautiful thing he's ever seen BEEN in his life) (think about it later) and they're only alive because of Raph, and they all crashed into Staten Island, of all the absurd places to land after being punched by so hard by an alien that they were thrown off the artificial(? laterlater) gravitational pull of the alien spaceship that came through a portal (wormhole?) in the sky with the intent of (???later) conquering the Earth, if not destroying all its life.
He needs to be calm. He needs— data. He needs to collect data. There are too many unknowns.
He reaches past everything-that-just-happened, breathes and speaks in his singular voice, rehashes a quip as if he were the same person that asked for ratings on the escape pods—
His legs briefly stop working and he lets himself flop over, just as Raph is saying his name in exasperation. "Donnie—" A change in tone. A different thought? Or connected? "Leo's still up there."
Up there. On the Technodrome (laterlaterlater). Facing an alien warrior, alone.
Anata wa hitori janai.
Leo is not alone. He will not be alone.
They will not leave him.
Donnie will not leave him.
He gets up, shoves aside the conglomerate mess of everything that just happened. There's only one goal in mind; saving the Earth will be an afterthought, a thought to be had after saving their brother. His physical battleshell is shot, but he is not alone and so he constructs a new one that flares bright behind him before settling into comfortable tangibility on his back; as the glow fades, he steps over to Mikey, holding out a hand in invitation even though it's their other brother he looks to. "Throw us," he says, and cuts off Raph's confusion before he can voice it: "I don't think I can get high enough to reach the ship's gravitational field on my own. Give me a boost so I can save some power to back up Mikey and Leo up there."
Mikey accepts the idea as he's speaking it, releasing his hand to shift behind him and wrap both arms around his front (mercifully leaving his feet on the ground for now, perhaps noticing the fine tremor in his traitorous limbs and extremities — but there's no time to rest, not yet). Donnie stays still, allowing his little brother to tuck his chin over his shoulder, and they stare down their oldest brother with all the stubbornness they possess. "Sorry we can't save any Krang butt for you to kick," Mikey says in the particular cheery tone that spells pain for the subject of his fury, "but let's go, Raph."
His words make Raph's expression shift, and he nods, once. "All right," he says, and then louder, "All right. One ticket to alien buttkicking, all aboard."
Donnie turns around to face the target, taking a wider stance as Mikey tucks his legs up for a better grip and the weight on the ninpo shell increases. (How does that feel? Is it as tangible to Mikey as it is to his softshell? another puzzle to consider later.) He rolls his shoulders, adjusts the construct to sprout wings and rotors on either side so Raph has the visible reminder that he will be flying as soon as their momentum wears off, and another glow springs to life, except in bright red. Raph stands before them, one huge construct of a hand held out for Donnie to clamber onto and then crouch low to keep his balance as they're carefully lifted into throwing position. He flips his goggles down in preparation.
First, a pause. Parting words? "Go get 'im, boys," Raph instructs grimly; Donnie and Mikey nod alike.
They raise up in the air suddenly as Raph grows his avatar and hurls them into the sky in the same motion. "YEET!" Mikey screeches, barely audible thanks to his consideration in turning his head away from Donnie's eardrums.
Donnie himself is absolutely focused on their target, trusting Mikey to hold on for dear life. He calculates rough trajectories, refines them, gauges distance with some help from the mystic goggles and the intuition he has to trust from their ninpo, how fast they're going and how far Raph's throw will take them before he has to—
There. Just before Earth's gravity would overpower their own momentum, he tugs at the energy of his ninpo and lets it flood through the construct of his shell and they're being propelled further and faster than he can keep up with manually. It's only seconds before a different gravity takes hold (a more familiar gravity) (he only knew it for a few minutes but it was eternity) (laterlaterlater) and he cuts the thrusters altogether, acutely aware of his rapidly draining resources and keen to save some to contribute to what's about to be a takedown of epic proportions. "Get ready, Mikey," he yells to the side, and somehow Mikey has one of his nunchucks in hand already.
Rather than simply land, Donnie targets the impossible-to-miss (easily missable. the Technodrome is vast. he does not know how he knew where to look. ninpo?) figure of the Krang and constructs a bo staff in his hands, holding it in position for Maneuver Twelve. Mikey shoves a thumbs-up directly in his face and starts squirming into position himself.
Donnie takes vicious delight in the speed at which he hurls Mikey and his flaming nunchucks at the extraterrestrial jerkface that thought he could (separate a true helmsman from his ship) lay a tentacle on any of his brothers. He's not unaware of the danger the jerkface poses, however, and he's right behind Mikey to follow up with a cursory barrage of laserfire that he doesn't put overly much thought into, mostly aiming to distract the alien until they can spot Leo—
There. Blue flash of ninpo, and suddenly a worse-for-wear twin is much closer, forgoing the surface of the ship to clip in and out of reality while throwing punches of his own, then turning to shout in clear panic, "What are you guys DOING?"
Mikey responds with something witty. Donnie is momentarily distracted by the medical scan his goggles are automatically performing as soon as Leo clips back into reality close enough; there's a hairline crack in his shell. He doesn't want to think about how much damage the Krang could do in the minute or two the fight might have gone on so far. (He knows what the Krang are capable of. He knows. He knows. He saw through eyes that have seen worlds burn and he knows through a thousand years of logs documenting mounting cruelty, rising insanity.) (The question is not, how is Leo so hurt already? The question is, how is Leo still alive after more than a moment against the Leader?) (later. not much later, this can't wait long. but later, later.)
His distraction is costly; he takes a hit, he's actually not sure where it lands, but momentarily he himself is landing (contact with the Technodrome) (belovedbeloved beautiful masterpieceofathousandgenerations pinnacleofgeniusacrosstheuniverse perfection) (he aches to rejoin its song) (LATERLATERLATER) at high speed, constructed shell taking the brunt of the impact, orange flaming chains holding back oversized mechanical fists before they can reach him while he's down. So he gets up, and fires off another barrage of lasers, stronger than the last, buys Mikey a second to whip into a spin, and that in turn buys Leo a second to show up inches away and grab his shoulders and— defy expectations altogether. "We have to trap him in there," he says, utterly serious, one arm pointing unseeing at the Prison Dimension above them. (he's seen the desiccated remains of a thousand lesser ships through the eyes of the one that survived to rule the survivors, he knows the chill, the echo that shouldn't exist except there are too many corpses for it not to, he knows he knows) (LATER.LATER.LATER.) "I told Casey to close the portal on my signal," Leo is saying, "he's waiting, we have to act fast before something gets to him—”
There is something wrong with this, something in his twin's words, but there's no time to puzzle it out. The words themselves make sense and he can agree to the plan. "If you and I distract him, Mikey can swing him in," he offers.
Leo's already shaking his head — there's a crash, Mikey yells, he hefts his sword but a glance shows their brother still moving, so they keep talking even as they both take off in that direction, Leo on foot and Donnie just above the surface (the less contact the less distraction) — "No, he moves fast, we're gonna have to keep him in there somehow." Donnie is glad that he's not running because it gives him time to see the problem very clearly and very instantly, but Leo cuts off his alarm with: "We get him in, I hold him until the last second, then I portal out."
He says it like it's final. Donnie's vehement disagreement is wasted in a flash of a blue portal, and his groan of frustration is drowned out by the roar of their alien opponent.
The plan isn't quite as simple as that, of course. It's no easy feat to get a warlord to cooperate, and their dance is one of fatal blows; all three of them take hits that are only survivable, in Donnie's baffled estimation, Because Ninpo. (He'd really like to collect some data.) Said ninpo is burning at them all, bright and hot and carrying them faster than they really know how to keep up with. The fight, always destined to be fairly short, is chaotic from the start, and Donnie can only track his brothers and avoid hitting them with his attacks, again, Because Ninpo. He assumes that's the same reason that Leo never smacks into him while jumping out of a portal, and why they never get tangled up in Mikey's chains.
... His thoughts seem to have been slightly faster than reality. (beloved?) Mikey is tangled up in his own chains. (How did that happen?) (beloved did you tell Leader?) He's thrashing about angrily, yelling, doesn't seem to be from pain but it makes no sense (did you tell him? my thoughts our thoughts can you hear me did you hear my thoughts did you share my thoughts) their ninpo weapons shouldn't be able to hurt them (A message, an apology, a feeling; Helmsman. he feels sorrow.) right? The whole point is that it's family / ancestral energy (Mutual anguish turns to fury: how DARE anyone think they have the right to enslave the Technodrome, how DARE its majesty be forcibly harnessed in such a way) and it's supposed to be primarily protective, isn't it? (A warning, given to Helmsman, that there is no time. Brother-Youngest is in danger.)
laterlaterlater moveNOW
Donnie moves.
He rockets toward Leader, delivers a glancing blow just to distract him, buys Brother-Twin an instant to attack, and skims low to the surface, collects data in split instants, whips around and propels himself directly into the back of Leader's intermediary. Before impact, he's creating constructs; upon impact, supersize clawed arms like those of his spidershell arms constrict around the mechanical exoskeleton. "LEO," he shouts, and prays, and then his feet are on nothing but white-blue air and they're falling—
His next breath is of frigid air. He can't see, face pressed into metal, but he knows (he knows) what's out there. Leader roars. Donnie constricts his extra arms even tighter. Leo is shouting about closing the portal; the constructed arms fail and Leader is free, bursting forward toward the portal, toward Earth.
(An inquiry, given to Helmsman. Course of action?)
(reverse thrust full power come to me reverse gravity push me away)
(Helmsman?)
(PLEASE)
"CASEY, PLEASE—"
It feels like a brick wall slams into him, and he goes tumbling through dead space as the full force of the Technodrome's gravity is projected outward in reverse. It only carries him so far, before he's crashing into some debris and coming to a halt, and then it's a very good thing that he's physically secure, because his mind is being ripped apart. Half of him barely knows how to breathe, and the other half can't perform the function for the brief seconds of eternity in which the vast portal is shut with the Technodrome still within its circumference.
He loses physical sensation, and then mental as well, a tiny, finite mind buckling under the weight of—
Of—
When he comes to, the first thing he's aware of his one of Leo's katanas just out of arm's reach. It takes him a moment of staring at it stupidly before he notices that not far beyond the blade, the ground abruptly falls away and there is the expanse of space the Prison Dimension.
space?
later?
is it later now?
beloved?
"—WRETCHED. LITTLE. PEST!"
He's heaving to his feet before the full situation sinks in. One leg gives out and he staggers, using the motion to snatch up the katana, lurching forward and wildly off to the side, nearly straight off his apparently-tiny floating island. He has to find Brother-Twin. He is not visible, neither is Leader, but he heard Leader's voice, they must be nearby. His brother is nearby. He is not alone. He hefts the weapon, breathes, and sketches a circle in the air; the portal he creates is distinctly not blue, but purple like the ninpo burning in his veins at the effort, flickering in instability and who knows where it’s going to take him, but despite the absence of data he hurtles through it anyway and emerges right beside his twin where he belongs.
Retraction: he does not belong, neither of them belong, in a crater with the Krang leering over them with a fist raised and closing in fast. The appearance of another contender seems to slow his reaction time, and Donnie is able to seize his brother by the arm and haul him to the side fast enough to avoid the blow — but shifting to get a better grip, meeting Leo's gaping, disbelieving expression instead of moving immediately, that slows his own reaction time and all at once the raging fire of ninpo goes cold and dead and he's crying out even before he really knows why, body responding to pain before the signal of its origin can even reach his brain.
The signal doesn't reach his brain at all. It's intercepted and changed and worsened, this isn't what it felt like before, it—
It. What is it. What is happening. He needs data. He needs— to calm down? Calm? Does he need to be calm? What's the situation, what does it warrant? Data, datadatadata he needs data—
"YOU!"
The Krang Leader Krang recognizes him. Is he going to tear Helmsman out again? Can Helmsman's tiny singular finite brain survive that, again? Where is [Technodrome]? Where—?
"INSECT!"
Krang Leader The Krang the alien he has no data, fine, the entity pours wordless fury through the raw connection-that-feels-wrong. This isn't— Where is Leader's intermediary? He was so pathetically reliant on it for so long before this, why is it now that he finally interfaces directly? Why couldn't he do that earlier, when Technodrome—
"YOU... killed it?"
It?
"YOU! HOW? HOW DID YOU CONTROL IT?"
It?
"HOW DID YOU—"
"GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!"
Agony, mind split in two, Helmsman thinks he might be screaming but doesn't know whether physical vocal chords are involved. The interface is being mistreated, one nervous system ripped violently apart from the one it entangled, and Helmsman (is he Helmsman? there is no helm. he killed Technodrome. he killed— he killed— it? is that—? killed—? gone—? it—?) blacks out.