You know, [Donnie says, in a way he imagines sounds very casual and conversational and not at all nervous, though he is practically hugging his staff to his chest as they walk,] I'm beginning to think that perhaps that turn was not the shortcut I had assumed it to be.
[The abandoned service tunnels and subway stations beneath New York are as vast as ever, to the point where even almost two decades later, their family hasn't explored even half of the tunnels no longer maintained by municipal powers. After what happened to the previous lair, having one or two backup locations in case the need to evacuate their new homes in a hurry is just common sense.
So, Donnie and Raph, scoping some of them out. Only the deeper they go into these tunnels, the more Donnie is reminded of the pulsating flesh of the Krang dripping from the ceiling, yellowed eyes staring out at them from the dark, and the twisted scream of a train horn echoing in his memory. Yes, he has grabbed onto Raph's arm once or twice when something clattered or creaked.]
[ Raph makes an important note to self that Donnie's starting to sound wigged out about this enterprise. One of those things to keep in mind.
Can't blame the guy, honestly. This hasn't exactly been a fun one. A lot of security contingency stuff isn't fun. It's dark and wet and mazelike in these parts. Easy to-- get lost. Or separated, and then be lost and alone all at once. But Raph is making himself keep away from that spiral of thought. Donnie's right here, so it's fine. Even if they get lost, they'll figure something out.
It's more important to keep a cool head right now. Well. As much as Raph's head every qualifies for cool. That's any big brother's job. ]
Yeah, maybe not. [ What, is he gonna lie about it? There's no shame in this turn of events. ] That's just how the sewer game gets ya. You don't know that you don't know until you try it and it turns out you didn't know. Live and learn, Donnie.
[ A human president said that once, probably. Man, he's so good at life lessons. ]
Are we at least still headin' South? What side of the pipes is the moss growin' on?
[ That was sewer navigation advice, right? Something about moss? ]
Doesn't work like that, Raphie. [Girl there's no sunlight down here, please
Donnie turns, tapping a set of commands onto his wrist computer to eject the floodlights from the shoulders of his battle shell, turning around to illuminate the tunnels beyond the bare minimum service lighting. It reminds him even more of the creepy krang tunnels, but they need to find-] There! [He points. On the wall further down the tracks is a series of faded numbers and letters, a white painted G-774 barely legible due to wear and age.] According to the old blueprints, this tunnel is an east-west track; 775 and 773 run parallel. Still have your Toddscouts compass with you?
[ If Raph sticks out his tongue or mumbles something suspiciously like says you, that's between him and the sewer slime. Which still can't take away from Donnie coming in clutch with the statistics and highly-specific knowledge that Raph was ultimately seeking.
775 and 773 don't mean much more to him than that, really, a Donnie Thing-- numbers aren't really his game, so he was gonna save jamming any super relevant stuff into his brain for home. That's one of the reasons it's always good to have a Donnie on hand for recon. ]
Gimme a sec. [ He's gotta fish it off of his improbably-sized and populated key ring before he squints at it. Never mind that he could just look at it without all that fuss.
Raph loves cardinal directions something fierce. There's literally a right way and a wrong way. Straight lines. Peak navigation. ] East-west... yeah. Yeah, I think we're about on the needle.
[ Unless they have somehow found the mythical Weast. Mikey would be so jealous if they did that. ]
Oh-kay! West is more exploring, east and south is home. [Tippy-taps on his wrist again and a purple and white blueprint pops up in front of him, which he traces a fingertip over.] The tunnels that run perpendicular to this line is the H series. We would go east, then turn right at the next H junction to go home.
We haven't checked out anything westward, so. [L. eaning eastward. What if instead they just went home and like, Donnie was allowed to have uranium for deadly weapons? What if instead they did this?]
[ Two paths diverged in a dark slimy wood. This is always the ninja turtle's lament.
It's not like it wouldn't be nice to get home. Unfamiliar sewer tunnels are-- psychologically iffy at best. But it's not much for security upkeep to hit a new obstacle and turn around, is it. That just ain't how life works. How life works is: everything is unfamiliar horrifying territory and the only actual option is faking it until (by stubbornly slamming your face into the next thing enough times) you make it.
Otherwise your whole family will die because of you. The end. Just like all those children's books talk about. ]
So we do west for a while and double back later. Good thinkin', Donnie.
[ He raps his knuckles against the battle shell a couple of times as he starts down the mystery tunnel. You know, as a show of solidarity. ]
[The praise does a little bit to soothe Donnie's frazzled nerves, but not enough. His nerves can fit so much frazzle inside of them; Raph has no idea. Nobody has any idea. Not even Donatello.]
Yes...that was my plan...of course... [Donnie still sticks just behind-and-to-the-right-side of his big brother, gestures of solidarity or not, because he's perfectly happy with their arrangement of "big shield and glass cannon" as far as combat goes. Not that there will be combat here! It's just a dark and musty and moldy sewer tunnel, unexplored and housing quite possibly dozens of threats yet unseen! Nothing strange here.
The map is accurate, at least; they reach the next expected intersection and take the west fork, Donnie directing Raph with a gesture of his staff before he clutches it back to his chest like a security blanket. Made of military-grade titanium.]
[ Donatello has his security blanket bo staff and his security blanket bro Raph. It's fine, everything will be fine. Definitely. For forever.
Raph appreciates being indulged a little bit in his lifelong quest to personally feel like he has Done Enough. He makes a quick mental note to himself not to take too much advantage of it. They don't need to map out a billion square miles or anything. Just. Just a few more tunnels that they haven't checked before. No big deal. They'll be home in time for dinner. ]
What about him? [ .... look. Put any family member's name out there and there's at least three things it could be about right now. With Leo? At least five, probably. ] Everything okay?
He's been sleeping even less than usual. [Honestly, had kind of been hoping Raphael had been using his big brother voodoo sense or whatever to determine the actual cause of Leo's distress, since Donnie caps out at noticing symptoms. There's probably some emotional shit going on. Lord knows.] He hasn't talked to you?
[ Ahh. So Donnie is lighting the brotherly beacons. That's always good. Bringing attention to worrying situations.
Raph doesn't think any of them are sleeping great lately, all things considered. But that's a little extra bad for Leo, who's always kept god knows what kind of sleep schedule. ]
I dunno if you noticed the past few months, Donnie, but Leo's kinda allergic to havin' sincere heart-to-hearts with me. Anytime I've tried, he just--
[ Vague gesture here. Deflects. Distracts. Delays. No matter how serious it is or how vulnerable Raph tries to be, despite a lifetime of usually setting the mental chess aside when Raph does that. Only Raph's stubbornness outweighed his hurt feelings enough to keep trying to force the issue pre-invasion. ]
He shuts it down. [ Y'know. In summary. But if there clearly is something wrong... Raph scrubs a hand over his face. ] I'll ask him later. Maybe this is different. And if that don't work, I can run it up to Pop.
[ Leo wouldn't dare shut down Master Splinter if he's right there looking worried and asking. Surely. ]
Still? [Didn't they get over that with the whole invasion? What do you mean the emotional problems didn't immediately resolve upon saving the world? That sounds like bullshit. That should be against the law.] Well. You know my opinion on it.
[Use tranquilizers until Leo can't move and force a coma on him until he rests! Not only is it efficient, there is nearly not a single ethical problem with it.]
Same problem, different vibe, brother. Raph comes at him, he's gonna think it's time for a lecture. I think he's still gotta ease out of the rebellious phase.
[ It used to be he seemed like he just wanted to make Raph mad and frustrated. Now it's more like--
He doesn't even know what it's more like, he only knows that that's what it is. It's not too hard to put himself in Leo's shoes and take a couple guesses at what's up and why he's kinda cagey. Very guilt-based. But that enterprise depends on the if it were me principle, and Raph suspects that a lot of his issues in this arena come from them speaking two whole different languages.
Master Splinter or April could probably do better. But yeah. He'll take first crack. That's his job. ]
Anyway, like I told you: we're keeping the tranqs under advisement for emergencies only. It's on the tier list. [ He stoops to get under a particularly low-hanging pipe. ] Bein' a bad patient doesn't count as an emergency.
[ If it did, literally all four of them would be in comas right now. Well. Maybe not Mikey. But also maybe Mikey. Wildcard. ]
[Grumbles over being stifled, again, but otherwise doesn't protest as he walks easily under the pipe without even having to duck his head. His attention's drifted from the map on his wrist in favor of the conversational topic, but he's since returned his attention to make sure they don't lose their bearings under the ground and in the near pitch-black like this.]
Well, you know I'm always ready to tranq Leo. You say the word, and I'll- [CRACK
What Donnie will or will not do has to wait when the ground suddenly gives away beneath his feet, stone crumbling suddenly without warning; he freezes, even as time seems to stretch, only able to turn and look for his big brother for help, hand shooting out-]
[ Family sewer treks are normally so not a big deal at all. A nothingburger of a chore done for safety purposes that don't always go great but usually don't go super wrong, either. Most of the time. There's always exceptions.
It sucks so bad being part of one of the exceptions. ]
Donnie!
[ Raph doesn't get paid to think, so he doesn't bother doing any thinking: he just reacts. His little brother is reaching for him, so of course he reaches back, of course he moves towards him. And yeah, maybe that's not the wisest move when the ground is crumbling under Donnie who basically weighs as much as four grapes (more than Leo or Mikey on account of machinery) but consider: head empty no thoughts can't just watch brother fall into the abyss.
The abyss is getting a 2-for-1 deal on turtles instead, while Raph tries to sort of form a very spiky protective cocoon around Donatello en route. If the cruel hands of fate want to separate this set, they obviously don't get to do it without a fight. ]
Raph easily wraps around Donnie almost entirely, a huge airbag made of keratin and solid muscle; over Raph's shoulder Donnie manages to spot the ceiling falling up from them until things go bright and purple as he instinctively puts a bubble shield up around them. Maybe Raph puts a construct up around them too, larger and assuredly far more capable of handling whatever happens-
But they hit something hard, bounce before falling again, and it's enough to disrupt Donnie's concentration so his own shield fails. The air is dark and quick and he loses time.
-
His sight filters in first, not that it means much. Everything is pitch-black, not even a hint of the emergency maintenance lighting from before. Donnie touches his neck, the back of his head, confirms his battle shell is still on his back and in one piece before he levers himself up onto an elbow with a hiss. Sore. He must have hit something else on the way down-
Raphael.]
Raph! [Though it makes his muscles feel like they'll pull away from his bones Donnie fumbles up onto his knees. His thoughts feel like soup, swishing around uselessly; he can't concentrate enough to engage any of his tech, his wrist computer screen cracked, but as his heart cries out for his big brother it makes his markings flare a bright purple. Not much, but enough to at least cast some light on his immediate surroundings, enough so he can start looking for his brother.] Raph, are you in here?!
[ Things don't go as bad as they could on the way down. The bar is pretty low, so that's not saying a lot, but it's still worth saying.
Raph doesn't remember much about the space between point A and point B. There's not a lot to say about falling through the dark, he guesses. Just falling, and the dark. Slamming into something that knocks the wind out of him, and--
And something.
And what?
Donnie's voice is the first thing that really registers again. It kinda rolls around in Raph's skull a little bit to start, pings alarm even when it's muffled and hard to understand. The tone is the thing that does it. He sounds scared. That makes two of them, but Raph is the big brother here. If he's scared, he's gotta wait.
So he tries to move instead, to stand up, blindly scrabbling for a handhold in the darkness. It doesn't work. Everything hurts, knocks the wind out of him all over again. He's weighed down; whatever's on top of him barely shifts. So he's a little stuck, he guesses, and that's scary. Not stuck-stuck. Right? He felt it move? He just needs a minute. Just.
Unless he doesn't have a minute. Unless Donnie's stuck somewhere, too, needs his help, that pinpoint flash of purple light-- what if he's hurt, what if he-- he needs his brother, what if he needs his brother?
Too scary to ignore.
Raph starts scrabbling again, because he can at least get an arm to move, can try to get some leverage with a stuttering stop-and-start mystic hand. He grinds out some sort of sound shaped like Donnie's name, which he hopes can be semi-reassuring. Raph is here. He's here so Donnie should feel like everything is gonna be okay, because that's like Raph's whole point.
This turtle is getting nowhere though. The sewer is trying to eat him rn. So hopefully Donnie is not currently dying, or at least not dying super fast. ]
[For a heart-seizing moment Donnie hears a low growl and thinks that he isn't alone, until he remembers that he shouldn't be alone and that growl registers as fairly similar to Raph's do not wake me before 9am growls.
Something red flashes for just a second and stone clatters at Donnie's left and he finally manages to convince his legs to work; not quite enough to get him full to his feet, but in this darkness it's probably a safer bet for him to crawl anyway. There's debris everywhere,sewer dust nasty and thick in the air and on his tongue every time he takes a breath. His markings are only bright enough to light up a radius of one or two feet around him, so he almost kneels on Raph's hand before he finds it with a yelp.
He grabs up his brother's fingers in his own, clutching desperately with trembling hands as the nerves start to catch up. They fell through the floor; no, he fell through the floor and Raph jumped down after him. Donnie managed a shield for all of a second before it shattered and, presumably, Raph took the rest of the abuse on the way down.
Donnie starts to feel up from Raph's hand to his arm, shoulder, seeking his neck and head, his shell, his-
Stone.
So much stone. Piles and piles of it; broken bricks, slabs of foundational concrete; dusty, slimy, wet, old and crumbling. All of it sitting squarely on top of his big brother, leaving only an arm, shoulder, and (terrifyingly, just barely) his head free.] R-...Raphie, [Donnie manages, his lips numb with shock as he comes to terms with the fact that his big brother is buried alive in collapsed sewer tunnel debris. He hasn't even graduated to acceptance yet, still working on understanding just what he's seeing here. His brother can't be in this much trouble. This isn't fair. They were fine just ten minutes ago.]
[ Oh. Good. Donnie came to him. Or maybe Raph had some kind of supercharged adrenaline moment and blacked out for the part where he dragged himself over there. On balance, he feels like the first one is probably the most right.
Either way, it's hard to beat the relief that rolls in. Donnie's here. He's still got both hands and everything. Even if he still sounds scared, or some kind of scared-adjacent feeling that Raph can't pinpoint. Gotta get it together, Raph. Scrape it together. Do some words. ]
Y'good? [ Nailing it. Very normal, very demure. Not panicking a little because it's dark and he can't do a visual check and the air is super gross. ] Dee?
[ What kind of pat-pat can one arm do in this position and situation? Not much of one, but going by Raph's wheezy grunt, he's trying to find out anyway. ]
Stop- [Okay. Donnie grips the sides of his head, hard, for just a moment. The pressure helps ground him, even as the earpieces of his goggles dig painfully into his skin before he finally lets go. Raph always hated it when Donnie did something like that; scratched, or squeezed, or otherwise did something to his body to try and interrupt his thoughts when they'd catch on a single point like a needle on a scratched record. Donnie had trained himself out of it, but this is- Raph is-
Raph's in danger. Leo's not here to take charge. Donnie's the only one here.] Mm- okay. You- [Donnie slaps his fingers against his mouth a few times, as if to chase the stammer away physically before trying again, ignoring how his hands shake as they begin to search the rubble as carefully as possible around Raph's carapace.] Don't- don't speak. Try to take slow, even breaths. There's- there's debris on your shell. [Debris on your shell. Like it's that fucking simple. Like Raph isn't wearing half a sewer tunnel atop of him, isn't barely managing to breathe only because his shell is so spiked and sturdy. If it had been any one of them under that instead of Raph, they'd already be dead.
[ Things Raph should not squeeze out an involuntary laugh-breath about, in the spirit of listening to Donnie: there's debris on your shell. He can't really help it, though. Debris. It sure feels like it, yeah.
How is he supposed to tell Donnie it's gonna be okay if he's not talking and just taking slow breaths, anyway? How is he supposed to help? It's his fault they're here in the first place. He was the one who said they should keep going.
He tries his ninpo again, a little more successfully than last time. Instead of a desperate flicker, it takes a slow crawl up and over the tips of his fingers, his hand. If he could just-- get his mind right, scrape his mystic form together, make this less claustrophobic-- make it easier to catch his breath--
But he guesses he can settle for trying to get a half-decent look at his brother for now. A little red light to see by, however long he can keep it going. Like in the submarine movies. One thing at a time. ]
Something cold slips into Donnie's stomach. His legs feel as if the muscles have atrophied, as if he couldn't ever stand again no matter how hard he tried. Ligaments severed, tendons torn. Donnie's hands don't stop shaking.]
I-it's- it's okay, Raph, [Donnie whispers, both of his hands clasping Raph's between them, holding tight. That red power keeps crawling up Raph's arm only to disappear again, like pilot light attempting and failing to catch, over and over. The power is there. Raph can do anything. Of course, Raph can do anything; but he needs the focus, he needs the smarts to help sometimes. Donnie can do that. Donnie can provide that, he thinks. All he needs is latticework. All they need are buttresses. Arches and steel cable netting beneath the debris, spawned from Raph's body, light a burning magenta, red-filled and purple-lined.
Donnie doesn't notice that his eyes have lost their pupils, all off-white sclera as he seeps a little further away from himself and into the blueprints. He can do this. They can do this, it's easy. He has to protect his little brothers. That's his job, as the one who is the biggest.
[ Hands on his hand. Tight. Even just that helps somehow, settles-- settles the something always curled up in the back of Raph's brain scared of being alone. Donnie's here. He's still here.
They can figure this out. Make this work, easy.
Raph can see it, suddenly. Feel it. Something catches. A path laid out in shapes and angles, one that leads into another into another into another mathematically the sturdiest, simple architecture, a simple build to fill in the gap. This is what he does. He builds. He fills in the gaps, he provides the contingencies, he fixes the problems.
The rubble shifts above him. Creaking metal, grinding stone, a fresh shower of dust as it starts to lift.
Raph breathes. And yeah, it still hurts to do it, but at least he can do it at all. At least this is working. (Of course it's working. Stay focused.) ]
S'okay. You're okay, [Donnie...says? Hears? He has no idea; it's a voice, and it's to and from both of them. The rubble is lifted off of Raph's shell and Donnie can breathe easier now, Raph's hand in his lap, between his own, their combined light pink and red and purple and mauve, like a busted bruise.
...time to get Raph out from under it. Donnie stands up carefully, still holding Raph's hand.] Gotta pull you out. Give me that strength, Raph. Okay? Help me pull you out. [The latticework flickers; darkens purple for a moment. Too much. They have to stay connected.]
[ Gotta pull him out. It has to ping around in Raph's head for a second before it really registers. The weight is gone. That was what stopped him before, right?
Donnie needs his help. Raph can't not help him. Not when it really matters. Not when Donnie is all alone if he doesn't. ]
Yeah. Just gotta-- just gotta... [ Gotta something. Pull in another breath. Fail to come up with the words he was looking for. Raph looks for the feeling instead: the hook-tug of impulse that sends someone diving over the edge after their brother. That need and fear, the way that something sparks to life halfway down. I can catch him. Let me catch him. Let me help him. Let me save him. That feeling of being bigger than himself. Being able to take more, punch harder, be stronger.
He curls his fingers, squeezes Donnie's hands as much as he can, lets it start there and move out, up over Donnie's arms. No blueprints, no structures, no architecture, just simple physical instinct. All Raph ever has to give is himself, and he's happy to give it: an arm's framework filled out in purple, red threaded through and around it like veins, like training wheels, trying to help hold the shape.
Neither of them is alone. It has to be okay, if they're together. ]
[Like using simple machines to exert incredible force upon an object. Easy. No complex designs, no planning periods; there's a point A and a point B and the determination to make it between the two.
All the lines are red and purple pools within them.
It's going to hurt.
Donatello begins to gather Raph up into his arms; his larger arms, arms made of light, lined red and pooled purple, curling up above him like his own avatar, sharp toothed and slim as it curls its great hands around Raph's biceps like they're the size of uncooked spaghetti. Moving Raph is inadvisable until his injuries are categorized but the latticework is already flickering, so the construct above them both pulls Raph five feet out and five more to keep him safe from the clattering of boulders as the net dissolves, Donatello acting as a fulcrum before the construct dissolves like smoke and leaves them back in the dark.
Donnie gasps, blinking rapidly; his eyes sting as if he'd had them open too long and he blinks, rubs at them, then goes back down to his knees to pat around and feel for his freed big brother. Okay. One thing at a time. Find Raph. What did they just do- No, find Raph. Focus.] Raph, make a noise, are you okay-
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Raphael (supersmashbro) - Cave-In/Survival
[The abandoned service tunnels and subway stations beneath New York are as vast as ever, to the point where even almost two decades later, their family hasn't explored even half of the tunnels no longer maintained by municipal powers. After what happened to the previous lair, having one or two backup locations in case the need to evacuate their new homes in a hurry is just common sense.
So, Donnie and Raph, scoping some of them out. Only the deeper they go into these tunnels, the more Donnie is reminded of the pulsating flesh of the Krang dripping from the ceiling, yellowed eyes staring out at them from the dark, and the twisted scream of a train horn echoing in his memory. Yes, he has grabbed onto Raph's arm once or twice when something clattered or creaked.]
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Can't blame the guy, honestly. This hasn't exactly been a fun one. A lot of security contingency stuff isn't fun. It's dark and wet and mazelike in these parts. Easy to-- get lost. Or separated, and then be lost and alone all at once. But Raph is making himself keep away from that spiral of thought. Donnie's right here, so it's fine. Even if they get lost, they'll figure something out.
It's more important to keep a cool head right now. Well. As much as Raph's head every qualifies for cool. That's any big brother's job. ]
Yeah, maybe not. [ What, is he gonna lie about it? There's no shame in this turn of events. ] That's just how the sewer game gets ya. You don't know that you don't know until you try it and it turns out you didn't know. Live and learn, Donnie.
[ A human president said that once, probably. Man, he's so good at life lessons. ]
Are we at least still headin' South? What side of the pipes is the moss growin' on?
[ That was sewer navigation advice, right? Something about moss? ]
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Donnie turns, tapping a set of commands onto his wrist computer to eject the floodlights from the shoulders of his battle shell, turning around to illuminate the tunnels beyond the bare minimum service lighting. It reminds him even more of the creepy krang tunnels, but they need to find-] There! [He points. On the wall further down the tracks is a series of faded numbers and letters, a white painted G-774 barely legible due to wear and age.] According to the old blueprints, this tunnel is an east-west track; 775 and 773 run parallel. Still have your Toddscouts compass with you?
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775 and 773 don't mean much more to him than that, really, a Donnie Thing-- numbers aren't really his game, so he was gonna save jamming any super relevant stuff into his brain for home. That's one of the reasons it's always good to have a Donnie on hand for recon. ]
Gimme a sec. [ He's gotta fish it off of his improbably-sized and populated key ring before he squints at it. Never mind that he could just look at it without all that fuss.
Raph loves cardinal directions something fierce. There's literally a right way and a wrong way. Straight lines. Peak navigation. ] East-west... yeah. Yeah, I think we're about on the needle.
[ Unless they have somehow found the mythical Weast. Mikey would be so jealous if they did that. ]
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We haven't checked out anything westward, so. [L. eaning eastward. What if instead they just went home and like, Donnie was allowed to have uranium for deadly weapons? What if instead they did this?]
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It's not like it wouldn't be nice to get home. Unfamiliar sewer tunnels are-- psychologically iffy at best. But it's not much for security upkeep to hit a new obstacle and turn around, is it. That just ain't how life works. How life works is: everything is unfamiliar horrifying territory and the only actual option is faking it until (by stubbornly slamming your face into the next thing enough times) you make it.
Otherwise your whole family will die because of you. The end. Just like all those children's books talk about. ]
So we do west for a while and double back later. Good thinkin', Donnie.
[ He raps his knuckles against the battle shell a couple of times as he starts down the mystery tunnel. You know, as a show of solidarity. ]
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Yes...that was my plan...of course... [Donnie still sticks just behind-and-to-the-right-side of his big brother, gestures of solidarity or not, because he's perfectly happy with their arrangement of "big shield and glass cannon" as far as combat goes. Not that there will be combat here! It's just a dark and musty and moldy sewer tunnel, unexplored and housing quite possibly dozens of threats yet unseen! Nothing strange here.
The map is accurate, at least; they reach the next expected intersection and take the west fork, Donnie directing Raph with a gesture of his staff before he clutches it back to his chest like a security blanket. Made of military-grade titanium.]
...so. Leo.
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Raph appreciates being indulged a little bit in his lifelong quest to personally feel like he has Done Enough. He makes a quick mental note to himself not to take too much advantage of it. They don't need to map out a billion square miles or anything. Just. Just a few more tunnels that they haven't checked before. No big deal. They'll be home in time for dinner. ]
What about him? [ .... look. Put any family member's name out there and there's at least three things it could be about right now. With Leo? At least five, probably. ] Everything okay?
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Raph doesn't think any of them are sleeping great lately, all things considered. But that's a little extra bad for Leo, who's always kept god knows what kind of sleep schedule. ]
I dunno if you noticed the past few months, Donnie, but Leo's kinda allergic to havin' sincere heart-to-hearts with me. Anytime I've tried, he just--
[ Vague gesture here. Deflects. Distracts. Delays. No matter how serious it is or how vulnerable Raph tries to be, despite a lifetime of usually setting the mental chess aside when Raph does that. Only Raph's stubbornness outweighed his hurt feelings enough to keep trying to force the issue pre-invasion. ]
He shuts it down. [ Y'know. In summary. But if there clearly is something wrong... Raph scrubs a hand over his face. ] I'll ask him later. Maybe this is different. And if that don't work, I can run it up to Pop.
[ Leo wouldn't dare shut down Master Splinter if he's right there looking worried and asking. Surely. ]
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[Use tranquilizers until Leo can't move and force a coma on him until he rests! Not only is it efficient, there is nearly not a single ethical problem with it.]
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[ It used to be he seemed like he just wanted to make Raph mad and frustrated. Now it's more like--
He doesn't even know what it's more like, he only knows that that's what it is. It's not too hard to put himself in Leo's shoes and take a couple guesses at what's up and why he's kinda cagey. Very guilt-based. But that enterprise depends on the if it were me principle, and Raph suspects that a lot of his issues in this arena come from them speaking two whole different languages.
Master Splinter or April could probably do better. But yeah. He'll take first crack. That's his job. ]
Anyway, like I told you: we're keeping the tranqs under advisement for emergencies only. It's on the tier list. [ He stoops to get under a particularly low-hanging pipe. ] Bein' a bad patient doesn't count as an emergency.
[ If it did, literally all four of them would be in comas right now. Well. Maybe not Mikey. But also maybe Mikey. Wildcard. ]
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Well, you know I'm always ready to tranq Leo. You say the word, and I'll- [CRACK
What Donnie will or will not do has to wait when the ground suddenly gives away beneath his feet, stone crumbling suddenly without warning; he freezes, even as time seems to stretch, only able to turn and look for his big brother for help, hand shooting out-]
time cannot stop me
It sucks so bad being part of one of the exceptions. ]
Donnie!
[ Raph doesn't get paid to think, so he doesn't bother doing any thinking: he just reacts. His little brother is reaching for him, so of course he reaches back, of course he moves towards him. And yeah, maybe that's not the wisest move when the ground is crumbling under Donnie who basically weighs as much as four grapes (more than Leo or Mikey on account of machinery) but consider: head empty no thoughts can't just watch brother fall into the abyss.
The abyss is getting a 2-for-1 deal on turtles instead, while Raph tries to sort of form a very spiky protective cocoon around Donatello en route. If the cruel hands of fate want to separate this set, they obviously don't get to do it without a fight. ]
transcending the decay of the ages
Raph easily wraps around Donnie almost entirely, a huge airbag made of keratin and solid muscle; over Raph's shoulder Donnie manages to spot the ceiling falling up from them until things go bright and purple as he instinctively puts a bubble shield up around them. Maybe Raph puts a construct up around them too, larger and assuredly far more capable of handling whatever happens-
But they hit something hard, bounce before falling again, and it's enough to disrupt Donnie's concentration so his own shield fails. The air is dark and quick and he loses time.
-
His sight filters in first, not that it means much. Everything is pitch-black, not even a hint of the emergency maintenance lighting from before. Donnie touches his neck, the back of his head, confirms his battle shell is still on his back and in one piece before he levers himself up onto an elbow with a hiss. Sore. He must have hit something else on the way down-
Raphael.]
Raph! [Though it makes his muscles feel like they'll pull away from his bones Donnie fumbles up onto his knees. His thoughts feel like soup, swishing around uselessly; he can't concentrate enough to engage any of his tech, his wrist computer screen cracked, but as his heart cries out for his big brother it makes his markings flare a bright purple. Not much, but enough to at least cast some light on his immediate surroundings, enough so he can start looking for his brother.] Raph, are you in here?!
entropy WHOMST
Raph doesn't remember much about the space between point A and point B. There's not a lot to say about falling through the dark, he guesses. Just falling, and the dark. Slamming into something that knocks the wind out of him, and--
And something.
And what?
Donnie's voice is the first thing that really registers again. It kinda rolls around in Raph's skull a little bit to start, pings alarm even when it's muffled and hard to understand. The tone is the thing that does it. He sounds scared. That makes two of them, but Raph is the big brother here. If he's scared, he's gotta wait.
So he tries to move instead, to stand up, blindly scrabbling for a handhold in the darkness. It doesn't work. Everything hurts, knocks the wind out of him all over again. He's weighed down; whatever's on top of him barely shifts. So he's a little stuck, he guesses, and that's scary. Not stuck-stuck. Right? He felt it move? He just needs a minute. Just.
Unless he doesn't have a minute. Unless Donnie's stuck somewhere, too, needs his help, that pinpoint flash of purple light-- what if he's hurt, what if he-- he needs his brother, what if he needs his brother?
Too scary to ignore.
Raph starts scrabbling again, because he can at least get an arm to move, can try to get some leverage with a stuttering stop-and-start mystic hand. He grinds out some sort of sound shaped like Donnie's name, which he hopes can be semi-reassuring. Raph is here. He's here so Donnie should feel like everything is gonna be okay, because that's like Raph's whole point.
This turtle is getting nowhere though. The sewer is trying to eat him rn. So hopefully Donnie is not currently dying, or at least not dying super fast. ]
we don't know her!!!!
Something red flashes for just a second and stone clatters at Donnie's left and he finally manages to convince his legs to work; not quite enough to get him full to his feet, but in this darkness it's probably a safer bet for him to crawl anyway. There's debris everywhere,sewer dust nasty and thick in the air and on his tongue every time he takes a breath. His markings are only bright enough to light up a radius of one or two feet around him, so he almost kneels on Raph's hand before he finds it with a yelp.
He grabs up his brother's fingers in his own, clutching desperately with trembling hands as the nerves start to catch up. They fell through the floor; no, he fell through the floor and Raph jumped down after him. Donnie managed a shield for all of a second before it shattered and, presumably, Raph took the rest of the abuse on the way down.
Donnie starts to feel up from Raph's hand to his arm, shoulder, seeking his neck and head, his shell, his-
Stone.
So much stone. Piles and piles of it; broken bricks, slabs of foundational concrete; dusty, slimy, wet, old and crumbling. All of it sitting squarely on top of his big brother, leaving only an arm, shoulder, and (terrifyingly, just barely) his head free.] R-...Raphie, [Donnie manages, his lips numb with shock as he comes to terms with the fact that his big brother is buried alive in collapsed sewer tunnel debris. He hasn't even graduated to acceptance yet, still working on understanding just what he's seeing here. His brother can't be in this much trouble. This isn't fair. They were fine just ten minutes ago.]
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Either way, it's hard to beat the relief that rolls in. Donnie's here. He's still got both hands and everything. Even if he still sounds scared, or some kind of scared-adjacent feeling that Raph can't pinpoint. Gotta get it together, Raph. Scrape it together. Do some words. ]
Y'good? [ Nailing it. Very normal, very demure. Not panicking a little because it's dark and he can't do a visual check and the air is super gross. ] Dee?
[ What kind of pat-pat can one arm do in this position and situation? Not much of one, but going by Raph's wheezy grunt, he's trying to find out anyway. ]
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Raph's in danger. Leo's not here to take charge. Donnie's the only one here.] Mm- okay. You- [Donnie slaps his fingers against his mouth a few times, as if to chase the stammer away physically before trying again, ignoring how his hands shake as they begin to search the rubble as carefully as possible around Raph's carapace.] Don't- don't speak. Try to take slow, even breaths. There's- there's debris on your shell. [Debris on your shell. Like it's that fucking simple. Like Raph isn't wearing half a sewer tunnel atop of him, isn't barely managing to breathe only because his shell is so spiked and sturdy. If it had been any one of them under that instead of Raph, they'd already be dead.
Focus, focus, focus. Focus, Donatello. Find problem. Diagnose. Apply solution.]
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How is he supposed to tell Donnie it's gonna be okay if he's not talking and just taking slow breaths, anyway? How is he supposed to help? It's his fault they're here in the first place. He was the one who said they should keep going.
He tries his ninpo again, a little more successfully than last time. Instead of a desperate flicker, it takes a slow crawl up and over the tips of his fingers, his hand. If he could just-- get his mind right, scrape his mystic form together, make this less claustrophobic-- make it easier to catch his breath--
But he guesses he can settle for trying to get a half-decent look at his brother for now. A little red light to see by, however long he can keep it going. Like in the submarine movies. One thing at a time. ]
brains and brawn mind meld babeyyyyyyyyyYYYYYY
Something cold slips into Donnie's stomach. His legs feel as if the muscles have atrophied, as if he couldn't ever stand again no matter how hard he tried. Ligaments severed, tendons torn. Donnie's hands don't stop shaking.]
I-it's- it's okay, Raph, [Donnie whispers, both of his hands clasping Raph's between them, holding tight. That red power keeps crawling up Raph's arm only to disappear again, like pilot light attempting and failing to catch, over and over. The power is there. Raph can do anything. Of course, Raph can do anything; but he needs the focus, he needs the smarts to help sometimes. Donnie can do that. Donnie can provide that, he thinks. All he needs is latticework. All they need are buttresses. Arches and steel cable netting beneath the debris, spawned from Raph's body, light a burning magenta, red-filled and purple-lined.
Donnie doesn't notice that his eyes have lost their pupils, all off-white sclera as he seeps a little further away from himself and into the blueprints. He can do this. They can do this, it's easy. He has to protect his little brothers. That's his job, as the one who is the biggest.
One thing at a time.]
its everything they deserve
They can figure this out. Make this work, easy.
Raph can see it, suddenly. Feel it. Something catches. A path laid out in shapes and angles, one that leads into another into another into another mathematically the sturdiest, simple architecture, a simple build to fill in the gap. This is what he does. He builds. He fills in the gaps, he provides the contingencies, he fixes the problems.
The rubble shifts above him. Creaking metal, grinding stone, a fresh shower of dust as it starts to lift.
Raph breathes. And yeah, it still hurts to do it, but at least he can do it at all. At least this is working. (Of course it's working. Stay focused.) ]
S'okay, [ he coughs out. ] You're okay.
[ He's not sure who's saying it.
He's not sure who's hearing it. ]
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...time to get Raph out from under it. Donnie stands up carefully, still holding Raph's hand.] Gotta pull you out. Give me that strength, Raph. Okay? Help me pull you out. [The latticework flickers; darkens purple for a moment. Too much. They have to stay connected.]
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Donnie needs his help. Raph can't not help him. Not when it really matters. Not when Donnie is all alone if he doesn't. ]
Yeah. Just gotta-- just gotta... [ Gotta something. Pull in another breath. Fail to come up with the words he was looking for. Raph looks for the feeling instead: the hook-tug of impulse that sends someone diving over the edge after their brother. That need and fear, the way that something sparks to life halfway down. I can catch him. Let me catch him. Let me help him. Let me save him. That feeling of being bigger than himself. Being able to take more, punch harder, be stronger.
He curls his fingers, squeezes Donnie's hands as much as he can, lets it start there and move out, up over Donnie's arms. No blueprints, no structures, no architecture, just simple physical instinct. All Raph ever has to give is himself, and he's happy to give it: an arm's framework filled out in purple, red threaded through and around it like veins, like training wheels, trying to help hold the shape.
Neither of them is alone. It has to be okay, if they're together. ]
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All the lines are red and purple pools within them.
It's going to hurt.
Donatello begins to gather Raph up into his arms; his larger arms, arms made of light, lined red and pooled purple, curling up above him like his own avatar, sharp toothed and slim as it curls its great hands around Raph's biceps like they're the size of uncooked spaghetti. Moving Raph is inadvisable until his injuries are categorized but the latticework is already flickering, so the construct above them both pulls Raph five feet out and five more to keep him safe from the clattering of boulders as the net dissolves, Donatello acting as a fulcrum before the construct dissolves like smoke and leaves them back in the dark.
Donnie gasps, blinking rapidly; his eyes sting as if he'd had them open too long and he blinks, rubs at them, then goes back down to his knees to pat around and feel for his freed big brother. Okay. One thing at a time. Find Raph. What did they just do- No, find Raph. Focus.] Raph, make a noise, are you okay-
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why does ur baby boy look like he has a mortgage and 4.5 kids in that icon up there
bc he does next question
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