Shuffling and turning, spinning and dropping, end over end. He felt the contents of his stomach rebel at the unending forced vertigo. Of course the sedation he had been placed under wasn’t helping any either. Some kind of drug, who knew what kind and what the repercussions of having it in his system for this long period of time would do. In and out he dozed, lethargic and barely able to lift his head, the only indication of what was happening was the occasional shift of light through the wooden box he was in and the never ending surge of his stomach contents at every small movement.
Grinding and the screeching of metal was heard at some point, and then the rattling of chains. Men were talking amongst themselves, humans, giving orders and discussing something in a mundane type of tone as if it were an every day ordeal. Then the over powering smell of salt and dead fish, the sea? Were they by the bay? Metal sounds again and then a truck’s roaring put put puttering as it started up. He closed his eyes and lost focus, eyes rolling back into his head as sleep took him again.
When Mikey awoke again it was to the loud and jarring slam of the wooden crate he was shackled in sliding across some kind of flooring and slamming into a wall…only to rebound off of it and begin sliding in the opposite direction. So disoriented was he, that briefly the thought of an earthquake rattled around in his foggy mind. When the box smacked into the opposite wall again his thoughts began to gain clarity and a sickening realization hit him, he was on some kind of…boat? But inside? Storage? In a box. And changed.
Gingerly he tested the metal clasped binds around his wrists, turning his palms over and pulling. What little light illuminated his frame through the worn cracks in the crate showed that whoever had done this had spared no expense, even without his eyes he could feel a large amount of heavy chains weighing him down. Also, with a wince he shifted and with nimble fingers plucked the small…it had to be some kind of dart out of his left thigh. He tossed it aside and was about to test his restraints a second time when his head slammed into the crate’s wall behind him. Damn the movement! He was getting sick of being battered around like a rag doll.
Shifting around in the wooden crate he tried curving his frame so his shell propped up against one side and his folded legs braced at the other. Perhaps this new arrangement would at least keep him from smashing his head against the wall repeatedly. Now that the potential for a concussion was taken care of…how to get out of…wherever here was? Hm, but in order to get out of here, he had to know who had put him there in the first place.
The last thing Michelangelo remembered was being on the rooftops patrolling with his brother Raphael. They were doing all sorts of ridiculous flips, stunts, and rough housings that would, if seen by Leonardo, cause such a fuss fest of lectures their ears would fall of for sure. So maybe it was their louder than usual joshing about that had caught the attention of someone, or maybe they had been staked out already and followed. Whatever the case, he had been hit first, in the thigh by some kind of dart. The attack hit them quickly, the dart laced with a fast acting narcotic that he barely had enough time to register what had happened before he went down muttering Raphael’s name in warning.
But who had done it? As another round of sliding across the flooring and banging into the wall behind him hit, Mikey racked his brain for any sort of answer, a clue, anything. The Foot? Had the Foot tailed them? They certainly wouldn’t have simply knocked them out would they? That wasn’t really their style. The Foot was usually fight first questions later type of folks. But then who….crap! The turtle felt a rush of panic flood over him suddenly. So overwhelmed by the confusion he’d entirely forgotten about Raphael! Raph! Was he here too? Certainly not in this…box, crate thing but nearby?!
“R-Raph!” he croaked out into the darkness, his throat coarse and rough to the sound. “R-Raph! Are you there?”
