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The murder of Hamato Yoshi

(TW just a lot of sad, some gore, and then more sad, suggestive stuff with Lust, but they're Lust so should be expected-)

(Art by @d4em0nium <3333)

It was a buzzing, electric wire, injected into his heart. Each beating of his confused organ sent a rush of sparks down through his body and to the tip of his fingers, toes, and tail. It didn't matter that the room had been quiet for far too long as the seven Sins stared at Mikey's bloodied form, Mikey wouldn't have been able to hear them if they spoke.

Hunger.

A true hunger coiled in his gut. Of course, magic always comes with a price. Power is not without a catch. It was nice while it lasted, being able to focus through hunger for once. Oh well, no matter. He had more reach now, surley hunting will be so much easier. It doesn't matter if he had to eat twice a week, every day, twenty humans a day. It was worth it, the stolen flames cooled as they mixed within his body. Idly he wonders if this is how Casey felt, waiting for new parts to settle into a new body.

In no time at all, and yet still too long, the orange frenzied hunger of the old Gluttony, calmed into a quiet yet no less intense cold blue clawing of his stomach. Gluttony's power had been a loud comedic growl to announce hunger. Mikey's hunger was vicious, a silent gnawing of a stomach digesting itself.

Mikey was caught up on what the meeting had been about, trade disputes, hilarious. Ultimately it became boring quick, though it was worth it to sit through the rest of the meeting just to see the way Wrath's fur prickled as she growled, her claws digging into the table as she debated killing him then and there. Sloth yawned and quickly turned into a puddle of still water, asleep and just as bored as Mikey. He thinks Lust was staring at him? Though their emotion was impossible to gleam, their plastic smooth face held nothing, no wrinkle or crease. Nothing. Pride refused eye contact, Greed was silently shaking, her spiderwebs broken and a tangled mess, and Envy simply sighed.

The skeletal figure stood suddenly, "That is enough. I return to my deserts." Envy announced before turning and walking out the extravagant doors.

Mikey giggled and waved with a wiggle of her fingers, "Toodles~" Missing his friend it seemed, how sad.

Greed was next, "Just... Pride, do what must be done..." Her dead eyes held no emotion but she scurried quickly out the doors after Envy. Oh my, they're losing Sins quick. Oh how Mikey could just weep, what a sad and pathetic display.

There was a yowl, claws scraping against the table. Wrath loomed over Mikey with furious eyes, black flames flicking over the sides of her snout. Her claws dug into the table on either side of where Mikey sat. The mutant didn't flinch, merely meeting her gaze with mirth in her blue eyes.

Pride cleared his throat as Lust giggled, "Wrath." He took a moment of composure, his voice steady and perfectly poised. "Gluttony was challenged, he lost. This... new Gluttony is to be treated the same as any new Sin."

"BULLSHIT! This abomination isn't worthy!"

"A challenge was declared and a winner has come of it."

"FUCK YOUR RULES!"

Pride suddenly stood, "THEY ARE NOT MY RULES! DO YOU SPEAK HERESY OF THE FIRST SEVEN? HAVE YOU COMPLAINTS TO MAKE TO LUCIFER HIMSELF?!?!" His voice boomed across the room, his eyes glowing a blinding white as his power made the whole room hum.

It was as though cold water was forcibly splashed on every demon in the room. Even Sloth stirred, forming to a more clearly humanoid shape. Now that was power. A power so great it made anyone kneel.

Hmm...

Wrath flinched and actually seemed to back down some, glaring at Pride before once more turning her fury to the smug mutant. Mikey sat as casual as could be, legs crossed as she looked over her claws. "It's the rules. I won fair and square. Why so upset at the dog that won the race? Just because he is smaller than the one who had won previously? What an immature reaction from those a hundred times my betters." She smirked, making eye contact with Pride as she repeated his words.

Pride's eye twitched as he took a deep breath, still looking down at Mikey with his upturned nose. "The transfer of your predecessor's wealth, paperwork and the like will take a day while it is gathered. Where shall it be delivered?"

Wrath growls and scratches up the table in front of Mikey before storming out.

The mutant hums "My predecessor took me to a dead volcano in Infernus, perhaps there." She remained casual, observing the way the wood in front of her slowly started to fix itself. Enchanted table, made sense.

Pride arched a brow as he sat back down. He snapped his fingers and a white silk curtain manifested next to him. The curtain lifts and a demon steps through, holding a clipboard and pen. This demon was similar to Pride though he had pale white skin and slicked back hair, two orange horns curled from his forehead. Like Pride, he had an annoyingly ornate suit, gold jewelry along his pointed ears and horns. "To the arena? Do you not wish to have everything delivered to your place of residence?"

"I like my secrets. I will not reveal where my dwelling lies." Mikey has succeeded so far in keeping hidden. What comes next no doubt will be... different.

It took a while of talking, Pride was clearly annoyed and at his wits end but eventually they reached a compromise. Gluttony had recently acquired a bar right in Demon's Reign, naturally this now belonged to Michelangelo. The perfect place for her to conduct demonic business, away from mortal eyes.

For the time being, it was time to decompress, time to go home.

Casey.

Oh Casey, she needed Casey.

A rush of emotions suddenly washed over him. Mikey's chest tightened, his breathing quickened and his legs gave out as his shadows deposited him on the cold rooftop. His shadow raised from the ground and chirped as it observed Mikey's bent over form.

Mikey almost died. Mikey was eaten. Casey almost lost his master. Absolutely not. Unacceptable. Incomprehensible. His breathing didn't stop, the shadows swallowed him as he went to their abandoned apartment.

He wasn't expecting for his loyal hound to already be there, eyes still glowing red. Mikey couldn't even attempt to keep composure, grabbing onto Casey as his pet grabbed him back, both pulling the other close as lips met beak. Mikey could feel as Casey dragged him over to the bare mattress. The demon was pulled on top and the moment their kiss broke, a sob left his beak. Something wet fell from his cheeks and onto Casey's steel expression. Mikey tried to speak but before he could try, Casey wrapped his arms around his head and pulled Mikey close to his chest.

"Shhh... it's okay, I have you Mike. Your dog is here..." Casey murmured as he pressed kisses between Mikey's horns and on his forehead.

Something in the back of Mikey's head says that he should be embarrassed, mortified. His pet is comforting him and for what? He won't, he should be continuing to ride the high of his victory. So why does he just nuzzles into Casey's chest further? Why cry into his chest? No, he needs to stop. Annabeth would've scolded him for such a display. She would've never allowed this.

Foolish mortal instincts. Foolish mortal feelings. Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.

But he can't stop it. Walls are hard to patch once they've cracked and shattered. Besides, Casey's arms feel too good, he can't help but to let everything out. Mikey once again laments when everything felt numb, like he was experiencing life through cotton.

At the same time, the mutant looks back up at his pet and can't help but melt into him. It's worth it, it's okay if Annabeth is disappointed in this one thing, he'll just work twice as hard to make sure that she will be proud in all his other endeavors.

It's vulnerable, something he only enjoys feeling when Casey is involved. For his hound's eyes alone and no one else.

It took longer than Mikey would like, but he did calm down. No explanation was needed for his dog.

"I just had a feeling. Like you needed me." Casey explained as he took off his shirts and looked down at his scars. The bigger line on his middle, gently pulsed red. "I just let it take me I guess? I can't imagine fighting a big demon dude wasn't at least a little scary."

Mikey was slowly shifting back to his mortal form, shadows retreating and broken shell pieces reforming. "It's expected. You are my hellhound, you sensed my distress and leaped to help. Akin to a service dog."

Casey chuckled "Woof woof then. At least I'm not just a dumb dog." He held his hand up as he snapped his fingers, red sparks crackled around his fingertips.

Mikey's form shrunk down, fully back to normal. "I didn't say that. You just have good instincts." He said with a cheeky smile.

Casey deadpanned at the mutant before shrugging, "whatever. Still, you sure you're okay?"

Mikey paused, sitting next to Casey back on the bed. "As Demonlord, I have responsibilities now. It'll take significant effort and a multitasking ability that thankfully I've trained."

"You mean like when you're talking with your bros and stalking me at the same time? I mean, this is kinda a step up though." Casey's arms drapped over Mikey's shoulders as he nuzzles into the scaled skin. "You sure? Like in general?"

Mikey's shoulders tensed as he takes a deep breath. "I'll figure it out."

He did, in a way. It was no easy feat by any means. At least Mikey discovered how far his powers can go especially with his new status. His shadow can serve in his stead for most things, appearances and information gathering. In a pinch he could also immediately step into wherever his shadow is and then return right back as though nothing happened. In this way, Michelangelo was fully able to maintain his mask around his family, while also tending to his demonic duties when needed.

Begrudgingly, Mikey had to admit that Casey was right about one thing. It was utterly exhausting. Once again the turtle was glad that he could keep his mask on auto pilot. And when needed, there were still moments he could get away to truly be in Demon's Reign. He'd barely seen any of Infernus, simply didn't have the time. Thankfully most business was conducted in the Mortal City.

It appeared that Mikey dethroned a pretty beloved ruler. There were those that hadn't liked the previous Gluttony, but Mikey being 'mortal born' was even more looked down upon. At least he eventually was able to start making allies...

But you don't care about that right? You read the chapter title, you want to know why. I'll get to that then.

To explain why Michelangelo did what he did, one must follow his thought process. The new Gluttony may be acquiring his small handful of allies, but it wasn't enough. Between Wrath's stares and Envy's silence, she could feel that something was bound to happen and soon. A particular evening with Lust helped this conclusion.

"Orlok held the Gluttony title for half a millenia." They had explained lackadaisycal as they lay on their dark purple velvet couch. They held something that looked like a cigarette but was black with green embers when they breathed in. Their smoke was green tinted and swirled in the air as though dancing, small whispers following the cloud before dissipating. How they smoked was... different, they would hold the mysterious drug to their stomach, where a mouth appeared to breathe in and out.

"I'm aware, but surely this has happened before, a sudden departure like his." Mikey had adopted a new mask for Lust's eyes (or smooth face?) only. She sat back in a much too big velvet purple chair, her legs were crossed, one over the other as she laid her head on her claw. A small pout to complete the 'girl talk' look. Lust took a quick liking to Mikey that she quickly seized. Not many allies, but some.

"Not as sudden as you. Usually we can guess what will be a true challenge and what will be a quick affair." Their voice sounded as though it came from their plastic face, while the mouth on their abdomen held the cigarette between its lips. Their tail swayed lazily as their hair changed, flipping between curly to straight, black to blonde. They were indecisive at the moment it seemed. "Usually there's some time, some preparations made in the event that it truly is the last we see of that Sin."

Mikey sighed and laid back, arms crossed in false frustration. "I see... But it's not fair, you see that right? I went by all the rules, and I've done a decent job ruling thus far."

At that, Lust snickered and it immediately caught Mikey's attention, blue eyes locking on them in silent question. "Sorry honey. It's just that... we can smell weakness to put it lightly." Their tail picked up the cigarette as they breathed out more smoke. "You're tired, everyone knows."

Well that's... unfortunate. But not surprising, after all she was an 18 year old who essentially just became king, and having to do it all in secret. Plans took time, contingencies took time. Yes, Mikey was exhausted. On top of that, still pretending to be a mortal mutant ninja around her brothers, it was taking a toll.

Lust was right, no matter how Mikey tried she was never going to be seen as a genuine threat. An attempt to scheme her demise was no doubt in the works. If she herself were to plan it, it's easy. Find a demon more suitable for the Gluttony title, mentor and train them the way Annabeth did the usurper, and maybe conveniently weaken the mortal born in ways only Infernian born demons would know. She'd never see it coming. Well, she would, she's thinking about it right now, sat at the table as Pride tries very hard to keep Sloth's attention. Out of all of the Sins sat around the table, none embodied their title as much as the eternally sleepy Sloth. Mikey wouldn't be surprised if that's why no one ever tried to take the Sloth title, the still water elemental was perfect.

Maybe that could be her tactic? Embody Gluttony so wholly that it becomes impossible to separate Mikey from Gluttony. No, she's still mortal born, that's the main issue Infernians have with her. Not to mention the clearly disapproving Pride. Being mortal born isn't something she can change, she couldn't deny it, her soul read clear and true.

Mikey's eyes went to Pride, then to Pride's soul. The great Sin's soul was a large flowing mass of a dark purple almost black core with white lights swirling around it. The High Demonlord's crown, a nickname given to the power passed around for centuries. Whoever held the crown, held total authority over all of Infernus and all demons. No one in their right mind would challenge Pride as long as he held it for several reasons.

"Pride rivals Sloth with how well he fits his sin." Lust drawled as once again Mikey sought them for their 'girl time.' Lust was an easy demon to find, 9 times out of 10 they were in the back of their tea shop, Rose petal. One of the main hangout spots in Demon's Reign, if one wanted a simple tea and chat, stay by the front. The back of the store... well, it lived up to Lust's title.

Lust had their own private section, a room of purple pillows, curtains and sheets. This is where Mikey could reliably find them. "I do agree. Is that why no one has challenged him?"

Lust burst out laughing, both throwing their head back and the mouth on their stomach opening to add an odd echo to the laugh. "No, I'm sure he'd have plenty challenges if he didn't have the crown."

"It does seem powerful..." Mikey sighed, the cushions were very comfortable and easy to lay back in, maybe she'll ask Lust for some.

"Oh it's not just that. Then again, you're mortal born, I don't expect you to know."

Mikey perked up at the new information, leaning forward as though Lust is sharing a dirty secret. "Oh? Do tell?"

Lust chuckled and shifted to lay on their side. "Well, you know how to become a Sin. But High Demonlord is a different story. You don't get the crown by devouring it, it needs to be given. In fact, rumor is that if the crown's holder dies, the crown is lost for good." They pause to take another puff.

Mikey looks down in contemplation, "Given? It must be willing?"

A giggle from the plastic demon "By technicality. You just have to get Pride to say the words: 'As current holder of it's power, I transfer Lucifer's crown to you,' just have to wait for the planets to align and for the seven circles to become one!" Lust laughed and stretched to lay on their back again. "But prude is very unlikely to ever give up the crown. I'm sure Greed even told me that he said he would rather die and be the reason we lose that power, than to ever give it up. A prideful beast even if it means his death and dooming us all."

"And... what would happen? If we lost the crown?"

Lust got quiet, making an odd chirping sound from somewhere under their plastic skin. "Complete anarchy. There'd be no lead to keep the rest of Infernus in check, no structure, no order, just chaos. Though some even think it'd mean the end of Infernus as a whole, it's unknown exactly what the crown is tied to. It could be the end of all demons as we know it."

Even if it meant Pride's death. The end of Infernus. The words stuck in Mikey's mind, following him even during missions with his brothers. Mikey needed power. That was the state of things, if he wanted to stay in power, to make sure demons stay hidden from his family, he needed that crown. And yet, he knows the only reason he won against his predecessor was luck and quick thinking. Orlok's ego is what did him in. And how could Mikey, the outsider, the interloper, get Pride to willingly give him the crown?

It was a lot to think about, and he was so deep in thought of a potential plan, that he almost missed the earth opening up under his feet to crush him. A disaster nearly unfolded in the lair.

Mikey was fully in his mask, reading comic books and being annoying to Raph. Deep from within his mind, he debated on next steps, keeping his rule secure, taking the High Demonlord's crown. Thank Lucifer that he had made his shadow when he did.

Raph shoved him onto the ground as he successfully stole the comic, "Shove off! This was mint condition!"

"But I need to know dude! You have the only copy come onnn!" His persona whined right as a chill crawled under his shell. Mikey's shadow caught his attention, forcing it to the dojo where April was training with the rat.

"...I don't mean to pry... My powers just, um, just, you don't have to tell me but... you... know about Mikey...? Is that why you were lying?"

What.

A hum from the old rodent, a sigh. He better not. "...I am not surprised you sensed deception around me. You are very gifted April..." His hand ran down his beard in thought.

Mikey didn't like where this was going. This was bad, very bad.

"Mikey? Hello? Earth to idiot." Raph's hand waved in front of Mikey's face, snapping him back to the moment. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

The turtle shot up to sit with a smile "Hey Raph! I was thinking, remember that special edition Wignut and Screwloose comic that went poof?"

Raph's face immediately goes from concerned to angry again, "Don't tell me, where did you put it?!" He went to grab for Mikey's plastron but the jester persona shot up quickly into a scrambled run, screaming yet laughing.

"I'll tell you if you give my Alien nightmares back!"

"It's not even yours! Get back here shellbrain!"

Splinter's nose twitched as he thought long and hard before turning to April again. "How often do you sense this... deception?"

The girl thought for a second "Well... You, Mikey and Casey which, makes sense... Not always around you but, always around them... wait..." She turned to the dojo doors as the commotion slowly got closer and closer.

Suddenly a tumbling ball of Raph and Mikey rough-housing, burst through the door. Both April and the rat freeze. The semi-human quickly smiles fondly at the mess, frozen only from surprise, melting away into fondness at watching the brothers scrap.

But Splinter is aware and as Mikey separates from Raph to run behind Splinter, he can feel how tense the rat is despite his calm exterior. He sighs as Raph tries to run for Mikey but is stopped by Splinter hitting a pressure point and making Raph collapse onto the floor. Mikey jumps out from behind Splinter to point and laugh at the elder brother, he glances at Splinter who hesitates.

"Don't you fucking dare, you know the script, stick to it."

He didn't mean to speak into Splinter's mind, but this had to play out a certain way. Thankfully, the old man obeyed and pressed the same spot on Mikey who acted out a comedic version of freezing before falling on the floor.

The hesitance was noted. The want to tell April was noted. The want to talk about Mikey, the real Mikey, was noted.

Casey was the demon's obedient pet, and even if he slipped up, he wouldn't fight back to whatever Mikey did to keep the façade going. Splinter was no same guarantee. Even if Casey slipped up, it would still take a considerable amount of suspicion to build before anything was truly believed about Mikey. It's the beautiful thing about lying. Once it's far enough, it's harder to believe the dirty, murky, layered reality over the shiny easy falsification. However, if it came from their teacher, while still difficult to swallow, it adds lethal credibility.

Mikey could depend on Casey, they would always have each other's backs at the end of the day. But Hamato Yoshi? What if a demon discovers Mikey's identity? What if one of the Sins discovers Mikey's identity? All it would take would be cornering Splinter, the man has no reason to cover for Mikey if it's his troubled son versus the other three.

He could see it now, Pride finds Splinter, minions seizing the lair. He'd monologue no doubt, hinting at knowing that one of his sons was powerful, valuable, and too ambitious for his own good.

The four of them would be easily subdued and captured. Of course Mikey would be forced to play along, if him hiding his soul doesn't give it away, then Splinter would. In a heartbeat. There is no faith in the rodent. It's too little too late to hope that Splinter would cover for him to that extent.

No, Mikey would be sold out as Gluttony, Pride would get him out of the picture. Splinter would mourn but ultimately decide that it's for the best. After all, Michelangelo had evil in his heart and did evil things. His brothers would mourn but would reach the same conclusion. Casey would be...

No. Absolutely not. Not happening. Unacceptable. Indescribable. Mikey won't let the imagined scenario go further.

He knows what must be done. The rat has to go.

Infernus is home to all sorts of plants, ores, and the like. Things that cannot be found on planet Earth. Mikey has discovered that having a passive chemistry interest does wonders with understanding these massive new types of flora. It doesn't take long for the turtle to find which ones are poison.

Infernal poisons range from horrifyingly instant to subtle breakdowns of energy and cells. Using a corner of the abandoned warehouse as a quick makeshift lab, doesn't take long. Shadows can't get caught stealing after all. Yes, he technically has a building that is rightfully his to do whatever he pleases with. But he'd still prefer to keep all Infernal matters purely business. While murdering his father may be partly business, it's also deeply, painfully personal. Honestly, it was about time to be rid of the rodent. It's an insult to his mother's memory that she had to die and he was still here. Mikey can't wait to be rid of Hamato Yoshi, one less variable to worry about. With the old man gone, it limits the people aware of Mikey's mask to just Casey. Truly, the demon should've done this ages ago, even before moving to become Gluttony. Splinter has always been too much of a risk, an annoyance, and a useless coward undeserving of the title of father.

Lust doesn't ask questions when Mikey requests a few flowers from their shop. Doesn't comment on most of them being toxic.

It really is over due, Hamato Yoshi should've died long ago. He was too many risks wrapped up into one person. A cowardly person. A pathetic waste of space.

Mikey sat in front of the few concoctions he's created. He only needs one but decided options were better. Besides, not often he gets to put his theories into practice. Mikey makes 5 different and creative, poisons. Each made to slowly destroy the body when ingested, attacking cells in varying ways.

The one Mikey stares at is a green vial dead center. It would blend in with the rat's tea perfectly, concocted to slow down its victim, eating at energy until the heart slows to a stop. On the outside it would look like old age finally catching up with the used-to-be-man. A teaspoon would be enough, slowed down to a believable few days before his heart stops.

Splinter knowing Mikey's truth would work to his advantage, he can ask to speak to the rat privately. The turtle will come with tea cups in hand, one poisoned. They'll talk, for the last time.

Mikey sat there, staring at the vial, then the red one to its right, the murky brown one to its left. Similar but more aggressive, more gruesome. The brown would attack all of the organs, causing internal bleeding, likely vomiting. The red would cause brain damage, seizing. He just wanted to experiment, finally be the mad scientist he'd imagined being in Donnie's lab. Of course he wouldn't use those, not for any caring reason, not because there's any concern or gentleness towards the rodent, of course not. It would be unnecessarily dramatic, enough that it wouldn't be a leap for Donnie to suspect foul play.

And once again, Donnie must be kept in the dark for as long as possible. For the sake of his mask, his secrets, his lies, Michelangelo will make the rat meet a slow yet peaceful end.

"Mike?" Mikey doesn't jump despite Casey's sudden appearance, he saw the flash of crackling red in the reflection of the glass vials.

"Drinking blood without permission pet?" The demon turns, his chair rotating to allow him to face his dog. Mikey couldn't hide his smile. Every time that his blue eyes fell upon his creation, his chest swelled with pride. But he did still note the blood around the hound's mouth and staining his hoodie.

"Uh, it was for good reason?" Casey offers as an attempt of an excuse, though it does seem to be a half truth. "I kinda... got that weird feeling in my gut, that you needed me? I just took enough to get here, I swear. It'll go away soon." Casey approached Mikey as the demon sighed with a smile. As natural as breathing, Casey sat on Mikey's lap as three-fingered hands settled on the small of his back, keeping him close.

"Right... You know I must discipline you now, why must you create more work for me?" Mikey nuzzled into his pet's chest. He hummed before letting the coldness in his heart spread, shifting his form. Mikey's face went from nuzzling into Casey's chest to into his neck as he stretched to be taller than the broken thing.

Casey giggled as Mikey turned to her demon form beneath him. He did enjoy her more monsteresque form. "Sorry babe, you're the one that decided to keep me."

It helped. She's not sure what exactly it was that having Casey on top of her helped, but it did. They held each other for a while, her tail even wrapping around Casey's leg, long arms around his waist.

"Do you have to do this?" Casey eventually murmured, gentle and quiet, as though speaking any louder would shatter Mikey's exhausted frame.

"Yes." The demon replied steady, a pure fact. Not a subjective answer that can be swayed, but a strong objective reality that no one can stop.

"Losing Annabeth fucked you up. It's still fucking you up." Casey matches Mikey's cold factual tone. Rock against rock. Truth against truth. Mikey's arms squeeze him further.

"Yes." A crack in the objective stone, a pebble pathetically falling to the ground. There's a pressure behind her eyes that she refuses to give in to. "I miss her..." Vulnerability a picaxe, chipping at that stone, crack after crack forming, shooting off all over its surface.

"I know." Casey nuzzles into Mikey's neck, his blood fueled body running hot, a soothing contrast to her own cold self. "Even if you hate him... will this fuck you up too?"

She wants to say no, that Annabeth hurt because she was too late in realizing the way her love took form. Annabeth did care about her and always pushed her to be the best demon Mikey could be. Her demonic parenting was a reflection of who she was and how she herself was raised. Mikey thought she hated her mother, but she just didn't understand.

Michelangelo knows how Hamato Yoshi shows his love, his care. He sees it everyday, directed at Leo, Raph, Donnie, even April, especially Karai. But never, not a single moment has that been given Mikey's way. The rat never tried to understand Mikey. The old man never was truthful in his care or concern. The teacher was never, has never, will never, be proud of him.

Not like she was. Never like she was.

And yet and yet and yet.

The words die in her throat, a pathetic crackling is what comes out as flames lick over her beak. She gulps down on nothing.

"...I don't know... Maybe... Maybe not..."

It's a non answer, it feels thick and disgusting in her mouth, an odd honesty she is still not fully used to. The demonic instincts, the gluttonous side of her tell her to re-establish dominance. How dare she be vulnerable in front of her pet? Her dog? Her inferior in every way.

But those instincts are easy to brush away. This is no regular hellhound, no random dog from a shelter. This is Casey Jones. A boy who has showed Mikey his weakest parts, fears and loves him so much that he willingly allowed his mind to be warped.

The perfect hellhound for Demonlord Gluttony.

Casey hugs her tightly and Mikey clings to him. "...Just call me next time... and don't get caught feeding."

Casey just chuckles "Woof."

The first time Mikey thought Hamato Yoshi had died, it didn't process. There was too much happening at a time and his mind was elsewhere, seeing demons retreating to Infernus. The Mortal City abandoned. His persona, The Jester, took care of acting the right way, but by the time the professor rescued them and turned back time, the solution was in hand. Why grieve for someone who was still alive?

He should really stop doing that, personifying his mask too much. One time was plenty for the Neutrino incident, making The Jester real, giving it a fitting mindspace while the real Mikey took himself and all his darkness into the pocket Annabeth hid for all those years. It was unpleasant to feel April digging around his mind, but at least he didn't get caught.

Ah, I got distracted again.

Mikey almost poured the whole vial in the tea.

An old man, kneeled in the dojo he built with his own two hands. A place made for passing on his clan's knowledge to those that will live long after he's gone. Hamato Yoshi has seen each of his sons grow into fantastic young men. Leonardo was a master in the craft passed down to him, eager to keep touch with his culture, keeping his family close to his heart. He is a protector, a leader, a brother. No matter how many times he argues with any of his siblings, he will always put their lives over his own. Not a perfect quality but a valiant one to have.

Raphael was passionate and loyal to a fault. A strong willed individual, ready to go to war for those he loves. He rules with his heart first, while his anger may get overwhelming, as time passes, he allows it to fuel his determination. While he still has much to learn, Raphael is one who knows the meaning of getting back up again once you fall.

Donatello is a brilliant mind. Analytical and efficient, eager to learn with a passion that rivals Raphael. A curiosity with no limit, both for the best and the worst at times. A lonely heart that wishes to simply belong, a yearning that uncontrolled, could turn out... well... not great. At times Yoshi truely felt for April, but his son had to learn patience.

Michelangelo,

Michelangelo...

Michelangelo.

...

The man sighed as his focus fell. Oh how he has failed that boy too many times. He laments what could've been, if the charade never had a chance to form. At first, yes, Yoshi was afraid. He remembered that despite his own father's best attempts, Oroku Saki still fell for envy, greed, wrath, and pride. So yes, at first, he was deeply afraid. He knew there was something dark in his youngest child and with no understanding of it, he was unsure how to best cultivate his son's soul.

His son's recent stance of no longer being a ninja was... earned. Yoshi simply wished to impart the knowledge, it is his children's choice on whether it gets used or not. And truly, Michelangelo has a very impressive understanding of the art form. A passion to rival Raphael, a wit to rival Donatello, a patience to rival Leonardo. With a fierce determination, almost stubbornness, to hide to save his family from himself...

Hamato Yoshi remembers an early conversation, when Michelangelo was so very young and confused, lost.

"... am I not... normal?" The young turtle had asked, no light or soul behind his piercing blue eyes. Despite this, Yoshi laid his palm upon his small shoulder.

"It is not bad, to not be normal. But yes, you are different..." There were no words to describe how odd it felt to discover bloody doodles. He did not want to panic, did not want to project his worries and fears. So now they are simply talking, perhaps Yoshi misunderstood the drawings. "I do worry... perhaps you are... a bit too wise beyond your young years. A child, should not have visions of carnage... Did something cause such thoughts? Has something frightened you?"

The turtle had stared at Yoshi, unblinking. An almost robotic processing of his words.

"No." He finally spoke. "I draw what I see when I sleep. Again and again. Every night."

That... was concerning to hear. Unfortunately, it appeared Yoshi did not hide his emotions as much as he wanted to, as the young turtle looked at the ground, picking at scales around his fingers.

A deep breath, "Michelangelo, do know, that no matter what problem you may have, I will listen and do my best to understand..."

"You're scared. They'll be scared too." What? What did he mean?

"Well..." Yoshi didn't want to lie, "...I cannot guarantee their reactions, but there is a chance... I suppose..." What an early age for such a difficult conversation. Idly Yoshi imagines if he were still in Japan, if his clan still stood, all the parents and grandparents that would happily help. All the people that offered him and Tang Shen help with Miwa, oh how he wished he could talk to them now. What would one do in this situation? Yoshi wants to do right by his child, he does not want him to grow in fear of himself, alienated, self-hateful. Yes, he does not want to raise a Shredder, but he also wishes to nurture Michelangelo the same as all his brothers.

That was the day the "mask" was created. Yoshi's deepest regret.

"2 am, I'll meet you in the dojo for tea. Let's talk."

Hamato Yoshi is willing to believe many things by now, demons being true and his son having gained demonic powers, well it was Tuesday. It made sense that the figure that haunted his young mind was an otherworldly being. It explained... many things.

Late at night, Yoshi set up the small table for the two to kneel at. Michelangelo insisted on making the tea... Yoshi has thought of many things, of gluttonous things, of damaged things, of scared things. Of a young man so in desperation of control, that it will consume him.

An unfortunately common notion that the more control he weilds, the less he has to fear. He thinks of rage in blue eyes, of pointed teeth hiding deep hurt. The broken heart of a boy who lost his mother.

The doors open and Michelangelo walks in with a blank expression on his maskless face, it hangs around his neck loosely. Yoshi offers a smile, gesturing for him to kneel at the table. He knows he will get no smile in return.

His son places two cups of tea on the table, one in front of himself and one in front of Yoshi. It seems like his usual favorite, there's no odd smell or color.

"I wanted to offer you some answers to questions you probably have." Michelangelo says, voice a steady still lake.

And he does have questions, but answers to the world's mysteries do not mean anything next to his son's well being.

The man hummed as he held the warm cup. "...What was her name?" He decides to start.

The turtle pauses for a moment but holds his own cup as he takes a deep breath "Annabeth. Her name was Annabeth." His voice shakes around her name.

Yoshi's ears droop some, oh how much his son is hurting. "I see... What did she teach you?" He tries to stay gentle. All these years and he still feels at a loss from how complicated this situation is.

"How to be a demon. How to use her powers. She cultivated me to be a better demon than even those born in Infernus." Michelangelo stared into his cup as he spoke, the steady water of his voice rippling into small waves.

There was an admittedly awkward silence as Yoshi nodded and hummed. Both staring at their tea cups.

"...I'm glad you had a mother who loved you..." Michelangelo did not expect those words, his eyes wide in pure genuine shock as Yoshi just smiled. "I may have not been what you needed, however, I am glad you did not bear through your darkness alone. Even if by one who encouraged it... if it means your happiness... then I'm glad."

More silence, just wide blues staring at Yoshi who stared into his cup, he hasn't drunk from it yet. The man has cultivated his insight through the years. An instinct deep in his chest that raises alarm. Despite the alarm, he softly smiles, though his ears droop.

"I will repeat it until my death. I truly am sorry for how I failed you." He lifts his cup into Michelangelo's eye line. "My age seeps into my bones, you four are young men now, and I've already seen you do so much. Great things as well as great mistakes... I suppose, I am content to go in peace."

Something causes his son's hands to shake, an expression on his face perhaps? Yoshi does not hide how proud he is of his son.

"So, what will this do?" He finally asks as mortal blues turn demonic.

"...It'll attack your energy, weakening you until your heart can't go any slower." The turtle puts down his own cup, no longer pretending they were just having tea.

"I see." Yoshi lowers his cup, staring at the ever so slightly different color. He wouldn't have known if he hadn't looked closely at it. How gifted his son is, intelligent and calculated. "How long will I have?"

"A week. You'll be dead by Sunday." Michelangelo's eyes drift down, a myriad of emotions clouding his stone face.

Yoshi hums as he ruminates on the time he will have left. "Thank you my son."

"For killing you? You don't even know why I'm doing this."

"I assume it has something to do with your mother's dying wishes." The way his son tenses, shows the answer. "In that case, I will not be an obstacle in your way. No risk of your secrets being exposed, yes?"

"Correct." His child looks at the cup before back at his father. Yoshi could not begin to attempt to understand the demonic aspects of his son's career. But, if the last thing he can do to help his son, is die? Then he will do it. He will die for his son's success.

Yoshi raises his cup to his snout, and drinks. It tastes no different aside from a bit cooler from it being allowed to sit. He hums and smiles once again, "I rather my end be from family out of love, than from an enemy out of hate."

Michelangelo's mouth opens, as though he means to object. To say he does not love his father, that hatred had everything to do with this act. But Yoshi is no longer clouded by fear and sees past his son's calculated plans. Michelangelo is intelligent to a terrifying degree, there's no doubt in Yoshi's mind that his son could easily fake an accidental death to be rid of him quick with no blame.

And yet, Michelangelo chose to be quiet, while giving Yoshi opportune chance to say his last words to his son. A poison even still made to give him a week's time of life before he finally goes. Truthfully, he's grateful.

There's a long stretch of silence, thick in the air, lasting much longer. Michelangelo stares at Yoshi, once again his face is made stone, but his eyes speak all. "You have a week. Try to give the other three closure in that time." He stands as he drinks his own unpoisoned tea cup.

Yoshi nods, "I will."

"You did fail. Over and over again." His son looks down at him.

"I know." He continues to sip from his cup the same as he usually does with tea.

Michelangelo watches him for a time before finally turning to leave, slowly walking out of the dojo. He pauses at the door, but doesn't turn to look at Yoshi. "Goodbye. Hamato Yoshi."

"Michelangelo." It's not that Yoshi does not trust his sons, but assurance never hurt. "Will you grant me one last favor?"

Michelangelo turns to look at Yoshi with those glowing demonic eyes, the shadows in the room feeling thicker. "Demons don't do favors. We work in contracts, deals."

"Then a deal." The shadows move, creeping across the ground and up the table, circling him.

Michelangelo pauses before turning back to the man. For a moment, it seems as though his son is preparing to spit out threats or insults. Instead, black parchment and a sharp quill appear in his hands, his voice steady. "What will be your deal, Yoshi?"

"Keep your brother's safe. Protect them, look out for them." He expects to have to give something in return as Michelangelo writes in the parchment. He expects his son to ask something of him.

Instead, as soon as Michelangelo finishes writing, the parchment bursts into blue flames. The shadows settle back to where they were, and without a word, he turns back around and walks out the door. Leaving Splinter alone with his poisoned tea.

Casey was right, it fucked him up. Why did he have to do that? Look so proud as his son was in the act of murdering him? A last slap in the face before he went? What an absolute infuriating, insulting, cowardly, failure of a... father.

Mikey just killed his father.

When he gets back to Casey, his pet is worried. Whatever link that ties a hellhound to its owner won't stop going off it seems. But truly, Mikey is fine. In fact a familiar feeling goes over his senses. The numb cotton that muffled his emotions for the first half of his life has returned. On certain levels, he did miss the disconnection.

Mikey acts like he doesn't know why Splinter from that night on is acting odd. His brothers are confused, Splinter talking as though something is coming. He seems to be passing on final lessons, final messages. They chalk it up to their father being mysterious and wise again.

Splinter doesn't make it to Saturday. Oroku Saki, now mutated, strikes while Splinter is weak. While Splinter is weakened by Mikey's poison. If he was at full strength, despite his age, maybe he would've won. Maybe he would've at least gotten away. But maybes are worthless. Maybes mean nothing.

Mikey's poison weakened Splinter, Shredder just landed the final blow. But make no mistake, this was all Mikey.

Then again, Splinter knew what was happening to his dying body. Maybe it was one last insult, to die by Shredder's hand after all. All that dying with love versus hate talk was worthless. Or maybe he just decided, with his last breath, to try to save his family one last time.

...

It doesn't matter. No amount of theorizing or thinking or scheming will change what happened. There was no clause on Mikey keeping Splinter's soul, so he's gone. Somewhere in Infernus floats a rat shaped soul. Maybe someone will eat it. Maybe it'll just become part of the endless supply of strays for eternity. Maybe one of the nobles or Sins will keep it in their vaults.

It doesn't matter.

It never did, never will.

His phone buzzes. Mikey doesn't have to look at it to know who's calling. He lets his shadows act on instinct, dragging Casey to the warehouse Mikey sits in.

Casey doesn't speak at first, likely taking note of the dirt and blood on Mikey's hands. The mud on his feet. The long dead heart that lies on the desk in front of him.

His pet slowly steps towards him, all the carefulness of a pup not wanting to spook an angry cat. Arms wrap around Mikey's shoulders, soon joined by Casey's cheek against Mikey's own.

They both stare at the cold, rotting, unbeating heart.

"See this?" Mikey's voice croaks as though he hasn't used it in days. He points at the heart. "There's a scratch just on either side here. And here." He moves the heart around, now holding it with both hands.

"Mhm." Casey let's Mikey speak. And he's glad, he's not sure he'd be able to really hold a real conversation.

"The blades grazed it. But not enough to stop it. But his lungs, kidneys, stomach, liver, all were likely hit. And yet his heart slowed long before the rest gave out. Likely long before he hit the ground." He doesn't know what he's saying. The words are just flowing out, Casey intently listening.

And then, Mikey is glad to have a dog who knows him well. Because then, Casey is taking the heart from his hands. He moves Mikey's hands out of the way, sitting on his lap again. The weight is grounding, it brings Mikey back a bit from his nonsensical ramblings.

"...He was proud of me..." It falls from his mouth like rocks.

He wasn't going to do this but...

Mikey devoured Annabeth, keeping a part of her with him forever. Splinter was... a failure of a father. The rat admitted it himself. However, the demonic gluttonous side of Mikey, said that he should keep both his parents close.

Casey held him through it, a hand over Mikey's as the heart was brought up to his beak. It was disgusting. It had already been sitting cold in the ground for a bit before Mikey dug it up. But at least he'll keep the rat close, it was only fair. The taste was uncomfortably earthy and damp. The meat was soft from rot and gave way easily.

Casey helped him smooth the dirt back over his grave once the deed was done. Defeating Shredder was useless. It didn't feel like satisfying revenge. Although, the turtle did start to feel a sense of peace, of ease.

No risk taking would occur involving the rat. Soon enough his focus came back, with no Shredder, no foot, no long time nemesis, Mikey could turn most of his attention to ruling.

Gluttony still had plans to make.