inonebasket | [Commentlog Style]

[Commentlog Style]

[A small, dark room greeted them upon awakening; the only light bled in as diluted moonlight from a small window about eight feet off the ground. The floor was concrete and dipped in the center toward a drainage grate; occasionally sewage trickled beneath it and made the room smell, but it wasn't anything its occupants weren't used to.

One shadowed figure was propped upright against a nearby wall, his wrists snapped in cuffs anchored to the brick with iron bolts and chains, just short enough to keep his arms above his head and unable to fully rest.

Another figure lay across the room, huddled in a corner and unmoving. The only sound was the plip plip of sewage and their ragged breathing.]

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Keep talking to me. Keep talking. [Leo gives the brickwork a rueful look, then tucks the keyring between his teeth and grips the wall with his fingers, attempting to haul himself to his feet.

Okay, pain's back.

There's no way he's going to support himself like this, so instead he makes a wild grab for the length of chain between Mike's wrist and where it's anchored and hangs from that instead.

...oh God that hurt. So bad.

He grips the chain and shoves his shoulder against the wall, taking the keys from his teeth with a shaking hand and tries to flip through them carefully, trying one key after another inside Mikey's cuff.]

[A few seconds pass before Mikey realizes that Leo's upright. Scowling tiredly, he twists his head to watch him.]

You shouldn't be standing.

[A quiet whimper as the chains are jostled and his shoulders protest the movement, but it brings with it a moment of clarity.]

[Leo laughs and it sounds dry. He's thirsty. The keys jangle in his grip as his hand shakes harder, and the teeth of one key catch on the lip of the cuff and yank them from his hand. They jangle to the floor and bounce to the edge of the dip.

If they slide any further, they'll plummet right into that drain and they'll never see them again. Leo looks at Mike, and then at the wall.

He won't be standing a second time. Already his legs feel as if the bones were shattering and driving a million little splinters into his muscles. But he has to get those keys.

So he carefully -carefully- slides down against the wall. His knees bend and he feels like he's going to be sick, but then he's on his stomach and his hand is around the keys. He draws them away from the edge.

He blacks out.]

Leo?

[Mikey's voice echoes in the silence. His stomach rolls and his voice is a little more panicked this time.]

Leo?!

[His head is swimming and it's hard to think and Leo's gone and he's so tired. Mikey bites back a sob and lets his head hang.

He wants to go home.]

[Not two minutes later, footsteps clomp clomp clomp down the hallway until another man is silhouetted in the door. He lifts his hands to his hair in horror.]

Oh shit. Oh fuck, oh shit!

[He rushes in and drops to a knee next to the man's corpse before withdrawing; he's obviously dead.

He begins to pace, hands combing through his hair vigorously.] Oh fuck oh fuck, oh fuck. He's dead. Oh shit I knew we shouldn't have asked him, oh shit.

[Stirring, Mikey lifts his head slowly. Another man.

He tenses, rattling the restraints.]

[The rattling draws his attention and the man spots Mikey, then Leo on the ground and jumps as if he didn't expect them to be there.]

Fuck! Fuck, he- [The man darts toward Mike.]

[Mikey bites back a shriek, trying to shrink back against the wall as his heart thuds in his chest.]

[The sharp movements and sound make the man recoil too, but he approaches anyway and with surprisingly gentle hands reaches up to hold Mike's head, trying to twist it to see the wound on the back.] No- Calm down, you...whatever the...fuck you are I have no idea. I'm not gonna hurt you, we're not supposed to hurt you.

[Hissing in pain, Mikey's eyes are wide and distrusting as he tries to turn his head back to look at the man.]

Who are you?

[His voice is hoarse and rough, almost slurred with exhaustion.]

Derek. Jesus, you can talk. Fuck. [The man strongarms Mike's head and peeks around to look at the wound, hissing. He backs away then, and almost trips over the body of the other man before jumping away in alarm.

He glances at Leonardo and points at him, glancing over at Mike.] He dead too?

Ow ...

[Blinking slowly and letting his head lower slightly, Mikey snaps back to attention as the man gestures towards Leo.]

No, you've gotta help him, his legs are broken!

[Voice cracking in his panic, Mikey looks at the strange man imploringly.]

Yeah, I know they are. Not a lot I can do about that. [The man takes to a knee gingerly and prods Leonardo's shoulder. The turtle doesn't so much as twitch. He spots the keys in his hand and quickly scoops them out, into his own pocket, before jumping up and dancing away nervously.]

Shit, you guys did all this. You're good.

[Leo's not moving. He's not moving oh god he didn't even twitch what if he's dead what if they do--

Sucking in a shaky breath, Mikey tries to keep his head clear, but he's so tired and he just wants to sleep. His head dips.]

Where're you taking us?

[The man had crouched down beside the body and relieved him of his handgun and additional clips, pocketing those as well. Then he timidly slipped his hands under his armpits and made to drag him out of the room.]

I'm gonna be right back to fix up your head and see if I can help your buddy, but I gotta get rid of him first. They gotta drop the body before daylight hits or we are in such fucking trouble.

[He then proceeds to drag the body out of the room before slamming the steel door shut and leaving Mikey alone in the dark.]

[It's dark. It's dark and he's alone and Mikey hates the dark. The silence is oppressive, but his ears are ringing and it's difficult to stay scared for long before his mind wanders.

Mikey tugs weakly on the restraints once, then his eyes slide shut and he passes out, slumping against the wall.]

[Derek returned no less than half an hour later; he surveyed the room with his hands on his hips.

The orange one had fainted. Shit. Hoping to God it wasn't faking, he headed over, unlocked the shackles and caught the surprisingly light turtle before lowering him to the floor, on his side. Then he fetched a first aid kit and returned, drawing the chains through the loops and rethreading them to chain the thing's legs together instead. Making sure the gun was ready and loaded in his pocket, he took the keys and tossed them beyond the threshold of the door and knelt down to start treating the head wound.

That stupid asshole.]

[Slowly coming to, Mike groaned loudly. His head was pounding, he felt sick, his hands felt like they'd been dipped from a bucket of ice into boiling hot water.

Not daring to open his eyes yet, he murmured.]

Donnie?

[The groan makes him jerk and immediately he drops the antiseptic-soaked gauze in favor of ducking a his hand into his pocket and withdrawing the gun, flicking off the safety.]

Derek.

[The click of the gun brings him a little closer to wakefulness, and Mikey's eyes snap open, though they slide back to half mast a moment later.

And then everything floods back to him. Waking up here, Leo's broken legs, the strange men, the beating ...

When did he get on the floor?]

Where's Leo?

I dunno who that is, but the other one've you is right next to you. [Derek still doesn't move, both hands on the pistol. He hadn't touched Leo yet, so he's in the same position he was when he passed out.]

[Squinting in the darkness, Mikey can finally make out the crumpled form of his brother, but his heart sinks when he sees Leo hasn't moved since he fell.

It hasn't even occurred to the younger turtle yet that his arms are free and unchained, his mind still foggy and blurred from the concussion, and he lays his head back down.]

[Derek waits a few moments. When Mike still doesn't move he prepares another pad of gauze with antiseptic, still keeping hold of the gun (though he does put the safety back on). He reaches over and pats the gauze to the blood on the back of Mikey's head, cleaning the wound.]

Sorry about that, really. Guy's a fucking psycho. Kind of glad your friend over there killed him, really.

[Wincing at the sting of the antiseptic, Mikey looks over at Leo tiredly, watching his brother for any sign of movement.]

If you're sorry you'll let us go.

[His stomach rolls and Mikey closes his eyes for a moment until it passes.]

Sorry kid, I can't. They'll kill me, drag you back and you'll be in the same problem before. Only I'll be dead. [When the wound is clean, he presses a fresh pad to the bump and tapes it firmly into place. Then he removes a cold pack from the kit, crunches it against the ground and rubs it back and forth before putting it to Mike's swelling cheek.] Here, hold this there.

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This is not Jerry Shaw.

Righto o7

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