Hmm… something something I’m writing this because I lost a battle writing something else
(aka Attached future au snippet because I felt defeated and my ego wouldn’t allow myself to remain in a defeated state)
Leo’s hands shake, clinging to the lab’s sliding metal doors.
“Donnie… what did you do?”
The softshell rises from his knees one leg at a time, wincing at the pressure on his injured foot. He balances his weight on the nearby desk, the material groaning lightly at the pressure. By his feet lies a small, unmoving hand, the only thing not obstructed from view by his figure.
Donnie barely looks over his shoulder to acknowledge his brother. His gaze looks down at nothing, an emotionless haze over his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to Leo, his acknowledgement stopping to return his gaze to the owner of the small hand on the floor.
“What did you do?” Leo’s voice darkens, his grip tightening on the metal doors the longer he sees the hand remain still.
The softshell doesn’t respond. But his hand begins to shake and brings attention to the syringe it holds.
“Donnie, answer me!”
Donnie’s hand rises, his shoulders straightening at the sight of the syringe. He’s silent for a few seconds, the tension building in the room as he stares at the syringe. He has yet to turn his back from Leo, even as he hears the groaning whine of the doors bending under the slider’s grip.
The softshell sighs.
“I did what I had to, Leo. I warned you.”
Leo’s blood runs cold, starting from the tips of his fingers and up his arms. He can feel it travel into his heart, causing it to beat sporadically against his chest.
“Don, he’s just a kid. He… he trusted you,” Leo seethes, his words slipping through his teeth. He can’t bear to look at Donnie’s back, but all he can see is that small hand lifeless on the ground at his brother’s feet. He pleads inwardly, begging silently as if his gaze alone will make that small hand move even the slightest margin.
This time, Donnie doesn’t respond.
Leo knew Donnie warned him. And he knew Donnie wouldn’t go through with it. He knew Donnie wasn’t the heartless, emotionless robot his twin claimed to be.
But this? This goes beyond what Leo knows. Donnie would never hurt an innocent child. Especially not like this.
Whoever is standing before him—whoever this stranger wearing his brother’s skin is… he can’t let them go.
Leo reaches over his shoulder, hand gripping on the red scabbard of his katana. He’s slow in unsheathing his katana, a silent shing lightly resonating in the lab as the metal doors close behind him.
If this “Donnie” heard Leo, he makes no acknowledgement, except for another defeated sigh. He doesn’t move from his spot, he doesn’t make a single hint of movement. Even when Leo doesn’t bother to hide the sound of his footsteps closing in.
And he remains still with his head held high, in spite of the blade’s light tough on his neck.
“I don’t wanna write Krang CJ… but the parasites… the parasites in me want to write Krang CJ”
Rottmnt Attached snippet hehe
CW: body horror, child endangerment, gun
The Infected’s mouth curls into a sickening grin, one that sends chills down Leonardo’s spine. Although the Infected’s body is horribly mangled, leaving no doubt that it shouldn’t be able to move the host body, it slowly rotates. The host body twists and snaps and locks its joints back into place with nauseating pops. The head rotates almost the full 360 degrees like a shot from a horror movie as it places its hands firm on the ground. Slowly, wobbly, and unsteadily, the body rises as it releases a slow cackle.
Blood shot eyes tinged with luminescent green liquid meet Leonardo’s eyes.
In a hoarse voice, above a whisper and consumed by pure entertainment, it speaks. It speaks the omen aloud for everyone to hear; speaks of the building tension among the entirety of the Resistance. And it speaks with a childlike glee, excited for what is to come, “The Red Warrior has passed.”
Michelangelo’s fist closes and chains immediately coil around the Infected’s head, flames bursting dangerously with life in a millisecond. The Infected’s body falls limp, revealing a thick black coating of ash in the wake of what used to be a head.
All eyes lock on the small child who sits in the corner, a small smile curled on his face as he plays with a small airplane toy. His little eyes glow green when he looks over his shoulder at them all. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
Chills run up Leonardo’s arms, sinking deep into his skin and traveling to his torso. He’s breathless, unable to react when Donatello crosses the distance of the room to point a finger gun. With purple pixels, the finger gun is transformed into a hologram of a pistol. A shaking pistol with the barrel staring straight into the center of the child’s skull.
Uhh… Attached au snippet? Inspired by the pure emotion in Scylla’s voice in, well, Scylla from Epic: Thunder Saga
CW: blood and injury, swords(katana)
Context(?): uh… what if Krang baby Casey Jr’s identity was discovered by some lowlifes who want to take advantage of that situation?
Leonardo can feel his blood boiling, his fury rippling under his skin and cascading over his heart. It consumes every coherent thought but leaves only one behind: get rid of them.
In one swift motion, he unsheathes his sword from his hip.
The crowds gasp and the man who whispered in his ear falls back in shock. The man—no, the Traitor cowardly crawls backwards, trying to create distance between himself and the blue sword emanating electricity.
In Leo’s mind, he feels the connection Donnie makes temporarily to warn, “People are watching.”
Although Donnie warns him, he knows they won’t stop him. He can feel their anger pour through his body, trusting he’ll know what to do with it. If it weren’t for the watchful eyes, he wouldn’t know what to do with it.
“Wait, hear me out—,” the Traitor pleads with shaking breath. He stumbles and fails to pick himself up, unable to do anything but crawl backwards.
Leonardo doesn’t wait for a response from anyone. He doesn’t let the anger fester within himself. He raises his sword and brings it down on the Traitor’s thigh.
The Traitor releases an ear-piercing screech, so filled with pain that anyone watching can feel the pain inflicted by the leader. He keels over and clutches his thigh, clamping his hands over the wound that Leonardo has yet to release the sword from.
“Please! Stop! Please, forgive me!”
The Traitor’s begging fails to reach Leonardo’s tympanum. Tears flood his eyes and flow down his cheeks as he holds the wound tightly.
Leonardo unsheathes his second sword and points it at the Traitor’s crew. They flinch in response, but fear pins them where they stand.
This time, it’s Mikey’s warning in his mind, “That’s enough...”
“All of you, who side with this…,” his head nods below to the Traitor before him before continuing, “Leave now. You don’t belong here.” Leonardo reaches down and slowly pulls out his sword from the Traitor’s thigh. He kicks the Traitor toward the group and adds, “Take him with you.”
They hesitate to follow orders, reduced to fearful prey frozen in their tracks.
“Now.”
They don’t hesitate this time, scrambling forward and falling over each other to grab the bleeding Traitor and dragging him to the doors. They struggle, unable to meet the eyes of anyone they pass by. Shame riddles their form into bent-over fools that befriend the ground.
The second the doors close, Leonardo flicks his bloody sword to remove some of the blood before wiping it clean against the fold of his arm. He challenges the room, “Anyone else have anything to say about the child?”
The room is silent in response.
Leonardo sheathes his swords, but doesn’t remove his hand from the hilt of his bloodied sword. “Good.”
He doesn’t wait for any other responses and spins on his heel to storm off. He hears Donnie and Mikey following after him with steady paces until Leo leads them far enough.
Mikey rushes to Leo’s side, concern etched in his aged-face. “Leo, what are you going to do?”
Donnie rushes to the opposite side to add, “Yeah, some of those idiots were helpful. We can’t afford to stretch our forces thin to make up for their absence.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Leo replies chastely. “They threatened Junior’s life. They expected me to kill Junior for their cooperation? They’re lucky I didn’t kill them where they stood.”
Mikey’s mouth shuts tightly in response to Leo’s harsh words. He glances at Donnie, who gives a knowing glance.
“That doesn’t sound very hero-like,” Donnie mumbles.
“Well, Raph’s not here to bring in the heroism, so cut me some slack,” Leo snaps. He throws open a door as he adds, “Bastards wanted to kill Junior. All because he’s a ‘threat’ to our safety. I should’ve choked them, make them stop talking.”
Mikey closes the door after them, glancing at Donnie for help with Leo.
Leo doesn’t stop, “They expected special treatment—all of them. If I didn’t make a show for them, others might have joined in. They would’ve grown in numbers and fought back against us. They wouldn’t win, but we need those numbers.”
“Leo—,” Donnie starts but is interrupted by the slider in question.
Leonardo slams his fist on the wall, “I don’t care about being the hero. I care about keeping us safe. I’m not losing anyone else, and if I have to be some kind of villain then that’s fine. I’ll only play the part if I have to.”
Anyways, I love this song so much, especially the lyrics at the end :D
Another short writing warmup that started as dialogue but I expanded it very slightly hehe :)
I call it “Attached” hehe
Prompt: (set in the rise future during the apocalypse) Leo converses with Donnie and Mikey after returning with a baby Casey Jr in his arms, discussing what to do with the infant that survived due to the Krang in its DNA (842 words)
“No, I just—I can’t leave him. He’s… I found him in Casey’s arms. She’s… this is her’s. I don’t know what to do,” Leo slides down the wall, landing roughly on his behind as he covers his head with his hands. He tries to control his hands, laying them flat against his head but they’re shaking, uncontrollably so.
“But Leo, it’s Krang. There’s Krang in it—,” Donnie argues, an uncertain expression on his face like he doesn’t want to believe his own words. He continues as his expression sours, “And the Krang in it is the only thing keeping it alive. As much as I love our friend Casey, we can’t keep this thing. It will only lead to our downfall.”
Mikey crouches at the baby’s bedside, a crate made with wooden scraps and blankets. He places his hand on the bent railing, staring at the sleeping infant wrapped in dirty cloth. “But he’s just a harmless little baby.”
“Krang baby,” Donnie corrects.
Leo sighs and clenches his shaking hands into tight fists. He rests his head back against the cold concrete, countering Donnie by saying, “He can’t do anything now.”
Donnie frowns, “What about years into the future? When he’s grown up? We don’t know how or when the Krang side of him will show up!”
Leo nods, that’s exactly what he thought. Donnie keeps bringing up his thoughts when he first saw the baby—first saw the flash of green behind the infant’s pupils. He already knows this, but he had hoped Donnie would have something else to say that he hadn’t thought of. He reluctantly admits, “We can’t risk it.”
It seems Donnie is hoping for the same thing as he turns to the mystic warrior crouching on the ground. His tone is near pleading, hoping that the master of mysticism would have an alternative option. “Mikey, can’t you do something about it? Can’t you kill off the Krang infection?”
But Mikey doesn’t give them the alternative answers they seek. He doesn’t even try to hide it in his expression as he frowns, shaking his head as he says, “This isn’t an infection, this is—it’s a part of him. Incinerating the part that makes him Krang will kill him with it. He’s half Krang.”
Leo winces, tired of hearing that part of the infant that he can’t get rid of—can’t save the child from. He pleads this time, desperately clinging onto an inkling of hope that there’s something. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
Donnie turns away from everyone, looking down toward the crease where the concrete wall meets the ground. He shrugs, but only halfway, still uncomfortable with the topic at hand. He tries to hide his disgust as he replies, “Well, you already know my option.”
Mikey snaps in Donnie’s direction, a snarl of disgust stretched on his face as he speaks clearly enough for Donnie to hear, “We’re not killing him.”
Donnie tries to remain logical, refusing to look in the sleeping infant’s direction. “Why not? He may be a baby now, but it’s not like we can raise the krang out of him. He’s part of the Krang.”
Leo perks suddenly, his hope clinging to this new idea, “Then we’ll learn about him. Gather our intel about the Krang from raising this baby.”
Donnie raises his brow at Leo, crossing his arms over his chest as he asks, “Are you suggesting experimentation on an infant?”
The slider early scoffs at the sudden change in Donnie’s argument, a complete 180 from what the softshell was suggesting before. “So now you care that it’s a baby?”
Donnie raises a finger as he shakes his head, “Not where I’m going at.”
Mikey crouches down again, looking only at the infant as he pokes a finger close to touching the infant’s cheek. He coldly asks Donnie, “Then where are you going with this?”
Donnie remains silent for a few seconds, scrunching his eyebrows as he hesitates to say what’s on his mind. He stares at the ground, barely hugging himself before he finally speaks, “…What if you get attached? What if you start actually liking this baby? What will you do when this baby inevitably turns its back on us for the Krang? Will you be able to pull the plug then?”
“…”
Neither one of the brothers responds in turn. Mikey only stares at the infant, finally garnering the courage to poke the chunky little cheek. But Leo, he finally stops shaking. The slider swallows anxiously, breathes deeply to calm his nerves. Donnie doesn’t fail to speak his thoughts aloud again, voicing the inner turmoil he struggled with from the moment he picked up the infant from the rubble—cradled in his mother’s arms.
Donnie releases an exhausted sigh as he finally voices the one question that lingered in the back of each of their minds. He asks the question despite the bitter taste it leaves on his tongue, “Are you willing to sacrifice hundreds for this tiny baby on the small, small chance that there won’t be any consequences?”
