Chapter Text
Donatello was close to the finalization of his masterpiece. His magnum opus, his life’s work, his grand finale ; everything he had been working towards came down to this: the milky white liquid in the vial he held in his large hand. He was terrified and in awe, scared of shattering the fragile tube in his big hands. This was the only thing that had mattered to him for so long, he could scarcely believe that he had nearly perfected the formula. Sleepless night after sleepless night, Donatello had slaved in his lab, researching and testing, researching and testing. He didn’t bother to sleep; he didn’t need to sleep, not when his salvation was so close.
All he needed was a new specimen; a spiny softshell, the same species as him, which he’d purchased through the Yokai’s pet market. No one dared to ask why the giant mutant turtle was buying so many spiny softshells, not when he openly presented himself as a threat. It almost saddened him to think about the ones that came before; how the transformation had ultimately been too much for their small, fragile bodies. The Gift he had given them was simply imperfect at that time, but now… he was near the end. The finish line was just within reach, so close that he could reach out and touch it.
Of course, he couldn’t account for his human DNA or how it would react—it was a risk he was going to take, a risk he had to take. He needed Salvation. He needed to be perfection .
Donatello turned to the turtle tank beside his desk, resting on an old bedside table that Donatello had repurposed to hold the enclosure. Reaching a large three-fingered hand into the tank, Donatello carefully scooped up the turtle, hesitating a moment before he placed it on the desk in front of him. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the moment dawning on him.
This was it.
It was time to see if he’d finally managed to perfect the formula; if he’d finally finished the only thing that had been giving his life meaning the past few months. Carefully, he filled the syringe with the milky-white liquid, the liquid that was hopefully perfect, as he intended it to be. Donnie removed any air that would interfere with the process, carefully pinning down the tiny softshell with one large hand, so large that he almost was scared he would crush the little creature. Gently, Donatello turned the turtle over in his palm, searching the turtle’s soft tummy for the brachial venous sinus. His thumb carefully probed around, pausing as he finally found the vein.
Steadying his hand, Donnie injected the liquid into the tiny softshell turtle, flipping it back over and placing it onto the desk once he had completed the task, his yellow eyes trained on the small reptile as he waited for something to happen. Hell, he even found himself begging internally for something to happen, for his work to finally be complete.
The reptile seemed confused, moving about in an almost drunken manner. Its maw opened up, a gargling pained chirp ringing through the air as it fell, legs writhing in pain as large bulges on its back began to twist and move underneath its soft shell. It was disgusting to watch, but Donnie couldn’t look away. Was this it? Had he brought his Salvation into the world? Would he finally be able to become Holy, to become what the world needed? Was this the moment that he could finalize his transformation?
Quickly, he swiped the mess of papers and cups off of his desk, clearing it of any clutter and ignoring the mess he was making as he gripped the desk in both of his hands, knuckles pale as he stared intently at the turtle. His hopes were high as he watched the mounds underneath the soft shell stretch, the shell ripping as six wings burst out of its back, feathered like a fully grown birds. The wings were stained red with blood, muscle and sinew hanging off of the appendages that flopped limply to the side, the turtle unable to keep them upright due to the amount of pain it was in.
Two more legs ripped from the turtle’s sides, between the front and back legs, razor-sharp little teeth sprouting from its mouth. The turtle, if one could even call it that anymore, closed its eyes, too weak to stay awake any longer. Quickly, Donatello picked up the baby Seraph, rushing it over to the anesthesia chamber and quickly hooking it up to a few machines before shutting the lid and turning on the airborne anesthesia.
The poor creature, terrified, barely moved as it was put into sleep for the time being. After all, the transformation was nowhere near complete; Donnie still had things to study about the transformation, though he didn’t think that he would have to tweak the formula again.
He would simply have to remain in his lab for a few more days, keeping his brothers out of his business. They would know soon; the time was coming near. The Final Day was coming, and the world at large would soon know his name.