BUZZ BUZZ Once There Was...

Chapter 2

Awareness crept in slowly. Pain made itself known, sharp stabbing that coincided with his heartbeat. It flashed through his skull and lanced down his spine. It called up answering chords of agony through out his body. Dull aches pushed at his muscles. Grinding tension stung at his joints. His lungs dragged glass-shard breathes over the raw flesh that coated the inside of his nose and throat.

Breathing guided his semi-consciousness to a whole host of discomforts. Thirst ran dusty fingers over his tongue and teeth. The abrasive sting of antiseptic left his eyes feeling scratchy even under their lids. A tickle pricked the back of his gullet and his cough jerked his whole frame.

Something smacked against the back of his head as his cough racked his body. His shell rocked on the same hard surface. Each movement made the cough more desperate. Something blocked his airway, twisted in his nose and stuck to the very back of his tongue. He gagged and wretched, choking on the meager drool that collected in his mouth.

His cheek stung briefly, but he paid that no mind. The thing in his throat pulled tight. It bent the soft walls of his sinuses, taut between his stomach and his nostril. Oh God, it was moving. It itched and burned, climbing up from his stomach. It scraped through his nose and brought the stench of vomit up with it. His stomach roiled and bile chased the thing upwards. A string—being pulled out of his nose. He threw up into his own mouth, but could not turn his head to spit it out. He swallowed it all down again, desperate to breathe without inhaling his own sick. The loose end of the string tickled and poked at the back of his tongue. A wet fit of coughing jerked his head forward then back. The stench of the string filled his nostrils. The wetness along its end burned behind his eyes. This time he vomited with force, coughing and choking as he sprayed the contents of his stomach upwards. It splattered across his body, but what held his focus was the sensation of the string popping loose of his nose.

“I suppose I deserved that. If I had been thinking properly, I would have removed your feeding tube before I resuscitated you. All the same, what’s a little vomit, eh?” Some one pat Raphael on the arm. “I’m going to prop you upright, okay? You’re having a hard time of it, breathing. Here.” Warm hands gripped Raphael under the armpits and tried to push him backwards to sit up against the wall at the head of his slab. They were only slightly successful. Parts of Raphael’s skin had begun to pinch and twist. “Um. That can’t be comfortable, but that’s the best I can do right now. I’ve got to get the needles out before we can REALLY sit you up.”

The voice did not seem to mind that Raphael had not responded. It whittered on, a nervous stream of obnoxiousness, forcing Raph closer and closer to consciousness. “Let's get this off you. I'd like to be able to let you take your time, but it isn't your time... or even mine come to that... or you would have all I could give you. If it were up to me you'd not be here in the first place, but if we're to get you out, we need to move FAST, I'm afraid.” Tape ripped across stretches of Raphael’s skin and painful pinches gave way to a sickening repeat of the sensation of the string in his nose as needles were withdrawn from veins.

Raphael was still struggling with his eyelids. Something was being put into his hand. That voice would not shut up. “See if you can drink this. Sip it at first. Swallowing will be rather hard just now.” It felt like a can of something or other.

“Guuhn.” Raphael twisted his head and peeled his eyelids apart. They had been crusted shut with sleep. He tried to move his hand to wipe them, but got pulled up short by a sharp tug on his skin. His vision swam a moment, with sickening slow motion. A can of some kind of protein drink sat in his hand on a white tabletop. His body lay out in front of him. He could see down his chest down to toes. White walls. White door. MACHINES surrounding his bed. His eyes slowly opened wider and wider as his head panned left. A human hand, holding his, was playing with NEEDLES in his SKIN. “Ho-AH!!” Raphael ripped his hand out of the human’s, ripping the micropore tape that held on his IV out off his skin. He shoved himself upwards to sit with his shell hard-pressed against the wall. The protein shake was forgotten in his hand and had spilled across the floor and mattress pad. Raphael’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. He remembered now. Flashes of darkness pierced with bright lights. The restraints. The needles. The groggy moments of coherency between doses of... whatever the hell that had been! Realization came like a clap of thunder. LABORATORY. OH HELL NO. The fist full of protein shake flew up, aimed at the human’s head.

The human looked ready to fill his pants. “I'm trying to HELP you! Help you get OUT! You'll not get through security without my access codes... and there are others who are in just as dire straits as you and will die without me. Oh God!!!!” Raph’s blow stopped just a hair shy of connecting with the man’s safety-style glasses. Raphael’s whole arm trembled with tension. The human looked ready to pass out. The last of the drink inside the can had slopped out, and dribbled over the edge of the thin mattress pad to the platform itself. Raphael glared daggers at the man, still not lowering his arm. His teeth were clenched and a low growl sounded from the back of his throat. The only things between this human and death were two words, “Help” and “Out.”


Doctor Jordan Perry stared back at a turtle who had not yet recognized him. He swallowed, nervously. Between the five year gap, very different lighting and all the horrors other scientists had perpetrated on his friend, he was not one hundred percent sure which turtle he was dealing with. He hoped for Donatello. Or Michelangelo. They would probably be the least volatile.

Twenty five years in the fields of biological and genetic design and engineering had pretty much served to convince Jordan that the only things in the Universe that acted like Gods were scientists and that the only forces at work in the Universe were science and economics. And Murphy's Law. Of that last he was very much convinced. Its latest example was right in front of him. The very person whose aid he NEEDED to rescue others FROM TGRI was IN TGRI and in need of rescuing himself. Thank God - a God he was sure did not exist - that he had gotten here in time. Now PLEASE God - that same non-existent deity - that the turtle would (a) believe him, (b) be fit to get out and (c) not kill him. Please please please that last. He'd seen enough of their fighting to be pretty sure that he needed no weapons to be able to part one Jordan Perry from his wretched and miserable existence as soon as look at him. Especially looking at him in a lab coat. Perry swallowed again. Hard. The turtle’s teeth were grinding audibly. Perry backed up very slowly and removed it. On second thoughts perhaps it would have been better if he had left the restraints in place until he had convinced the turtle that others would suffer much more by his death than by his being allowed to continue to live with his guilt and fear and grief. Oh God. The short distance between them afforded Perry no safety.

Even as they stared at each other, Perry was conscious of the time slipping by. Finally, he mustered the courage to blurt, “Let me help you! Please.” The turtle did not move, and Perry reached tentatively towards the floor. He fumbled for his lab coat and what was in its pocket. With a handheld scanner he examined several of the turtle's more obvious, recent and deliberate incisions... at a safe-ish distance. He'd played with the scanner's sensitivity, so that it would let him find the CHIP, rather than the being it was attached to. After a moment the scanner beeped noticeably MORE wildly over the turtle's left bicep. “They've implanted a tracer chip. You'll not last a minute with that still in you. I'm going to remove it -- sorry no pain relief, I need longer than I have to get you out of the chemical coma they've kept you in, no time to do this while you were still out of it. Sorry. So. I get this out... uhhh... and then you take me at knifepoint to the exit. I let you out. I go one way with the chip. You go the other. It may buy you two minutes of confusion. I hope. I... errr... I hope this makes any kind of sense to you. I'm ... I guess I'm your... and THEIR last and only hope. To be honest, I wish I wasn't. But I will do everything in my power to get you ALL out. Promise. Scout's Honour. Sorry... Don't know what I'm saying.” Sparing another worried glance at the turtle, he went to the tray of surgical instruments and slipped a scalpel out of the sterile sheath. “I'm... very much afraid I will have to CUT you... to get at the chip. May I?” He had never felt more foolish... or foolhardy. The turtle, the ‘Guuhn’ hadn't been much of a clue as to which, looked lethal.

The growling finally stopped, and though his teeth were still clenched, the fist lowered as well. All the talk of tracker chips and perhaps the beeping demonstration had gotten though to the turtle. The turtle grunted and relaxed ever so slightly, still on alert, should Perry try to do anything rash. “Kay. Cut. Geddit outta me.” The piercing gaze followed Perry’s every motion. At least the patient was more responsive! Perry smothered an internal quiver of hysteria.

Still unsure as to which turtle he was dealing with—though with a growing dread of it being Raphael—Perry approached, carefully removed the micropore tape from over the incision and cleanly, carefully and quickly cut through the stitches to re-open the original wound with considerably more surgical precision than the first cut had been made. They had no thoughts of the continued use of the limb. He did. He removed the chip—diode still flashing—and put it, all gory as it was, into his own handkerchief and then into his pocket. Butterfly stitches came next. There was no catgut to be had and Perry cursed himself for not bringing some. He finished with more micropore tape must serve to re-close the wound. “There. We had best get out. Which would you rather?” Perry held out two potential weapons, offering Raph the choice of a surgical bone saw and the bloody scalpel.


Throughout all of this, Raphael kept his eyes trained on the human. Raphael’s teeth continued to clench throughout the entire impromptu surgery. The only sign of his awareness of pain had been a slight muscular tick near his eyes. There was something familiar about the man. Was he one of the technicians in charge of keeping Raphael sedated? Was he some one from on television? His family had only known a handful of humans and none of them had been scientis—PERRY. Don’s friend! But … that meant TGRI, and TGRI was gone. April’s report had said so! He blinked and opened his mouth, ready to ask a flood of questions when something the doctor had said went off in his head like fireworks: “…I will do everything in my power to get you ALL out…”

All? His brothers?! Raphael sat up ramrod straight, leaned forward and snagged Perry by the collar and tie. He dragged the man towards his own face, rage contorting his features. “My family’s here too!?” The man’s wide eyes and terrified expression did nothing to slow Raphael. If anything, it only angered him further. “My family! Where the HELL are they?!” He gave Perry a hard shake. “Damn it, Perry! NOW.”

If anything, the use of the man’s name snapped him out of his paralysis. He reflexively brought up his hands to loosen Raphael’s grip, forgetting that he still held two weapons. In a flash, both weapons were ripped from his hands and the support of Raphael’s grip had vanished. He fell to the floor with a thump, quickly scrambling to his feet. Looking up he saw the turtle standing above him with a bone saw, a bloody scalpel, and murder in his eyes.



I got to talk to my editor today. Hello dee!! The poor thing has been laid up repeatedly with pain issues and now with a cold from hell. :( But she had many many many excellent suggestions that would never have come to light if I hadn't just freakin' bit the bullet and started writting. Those same suggestions pretty much make chunks of the stuff i've already done obsolete, but what the hell! We're going for VERBAGE now and EDITTING later!

Still. Fancy fun. She's so much help. When I grow up I wanna be strong and helpful like her. :D



edit: forgot the spiffy graph thing!