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For whom the bell tolls	By : CSwindle Category: Comics > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 1460 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Reality was pain and noise such as he had never experienced. Reality was a profound sense of confusion and frustration when his body did not obey simple commands, like curl into a fetal position and jam his hands against his ears. Reality was hell.

Beyond all of this existed a world so far away that it almost seemed like a dream. It had a floor and walls, both of which were swerving back and forth, in and out and around each other in a way that made nausea grip him with a fierce and unrelenting hand. He tried to fight it, and for a time succeeded, but it was impossible to combat for long. He was only vaguely aware of it when they stopped moving and he vomited all over the floor as it swung back and forth below him.

He had no idea how much time had elapsed when he finally started to become aware of his surroundings again. And it was only after several long moments that he was even able to comprehend why he had come back to himself. The noise had stopped, leaving nothing more than a horrendous ringing in his ears, a terrible headache, and no way to tell up from down. His body was trembling and damp with sweat. Breath was drawn in unsteady gasps. He decided to chance opening his eyes only to discover that the room still refused to be still and had acquired a multitude of black dots as dancing partners. The room’s dance was not nearly as hectic as it had been previously and Saki was convinced that given a few moments it would bring itself under control. Unfortunately it never had the chance. He was thrown into darkness as the same heavy cloth from yesterday was tied around his head.

Realizations came to him one at a time. He was chained in the same position as yesterday. There was a horrible taste in his mouth. There were voices nearby. The bad taste was because he had emptied the contents of his stomach all over the floor. He knew these voices.

He spat in an attempt to rid himself of the vomit’s aftertaste and tried to listen in on the conversation. Unfortunately it was impossible for him to discern any of the words being exchanged past the ringing in his ears. Then reality was brought sharply into focus by freezing cold as icy water was tossed onto his chained form. His body jerked involuntarily and pain flared through his side with the movement.

“My brother.” The girl from yesterday. He recognized the voice clearly now. She addressed him casually, as if they were simply picking up the thread of some minor topic they had abandoned earlier. “He was a skilled ninja. Head of the Wind clan. When the foot turned to a life of crime, under your leadership, he felt it was his duty to try and stop you.”

Ah yes, that he remembered. The chaotic period of time following his ascension where power struggles had been common place. Some had assumed that the Foot’s recent internal conflict would leave the clan vulnerable to attack. Others had been Foot themselves. Motivated by some crazed notion of justice and honor they banned together, intent on removing Shredder from his newfound seat of power. They sought aid from outside clans sympathetic to their cause. Wind had been chief among them.

“Now do you remember him? Or…at least what he fought for?” His captor queried.

The leader of the Wind ninja clan he remembered very well. His skills had been remarkable. A fierce battle had taken place between the leaders of Wind and Foot. Shredder had claimed victory, ending the would be hero’s life by slicing his neck open with his wrist blades. In the moment of forced reflection he recalled the doubts that had plagued him about his ability to win the fight, fear that he would be killed that night…that everything he worked so hard to take through scheming and blood would be lost before he had a chance to enjoy any of it. He remembered the elation coupled with relief as his opponent fell before his blades.

“No.” Shredder replied. “I suppose he just isn’t worth remembering.”

He resolved then to die before gratifying his captor’s efforts. At least she didn’t scream this time. He didn’t think that he could withstand another sonic assault. Instead he felt her hand brush against his arm and untie the bandage around the sai wound. There was a slight tug on the cloth and he realized that she must be wrapping her hand around the excess. Then she yanked hard, pulling the bit of his cape away in one violent motion. He felt his blood flow from the reopened wound and her hot breath by his ear whispering in a voice full of dark and terrible promise.

“I’ll make you remember him.”

She fingered the edge of the wound, ran her long nail along it’s length, then suddenly shoved her fingers into the wound, twisting and scratching at the meat of his arm until she had forced herself in up to her knuckles. He shuddered with the pain and clenched his jaw tight to rein in the screams so desperate to burst from him. She wriggled her fingers and dug her nails as deep as she could manage. His contorted face reflected the agony he felt, but he stubbornly refused to vocalize his pain.

She hissed in anger when she found that she could not break his resolve and pulled her fingers free, wiping the blood on his pants. For a long, uneasy moment Saki heard the people on the other side of the blindfold whispering to one another. Nervousness gripped him as he wondered what they had planned next.

Someone got a firm grip on the index finger of his right hand before he felt cold metal against the tip of his finger. If he had to guess he would suppose it was an oversized needle of some sort. It was wedged between his skin and nail almost gently, then quickly shoved into his flesh at an angle, penetrating deep into his finger. The shock of the pain was enough to finally tear a sharp yelp of pain from him. When another of the needles touched against his middle finger he steeled himself for what was to come. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming again as the metal point drove into his flesh. His captors worked in silence on each one of his fingers. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, his body jerked and writhed as each new shard of metal penetrated his skin.

"Pathetic." His voice was thick and raspy with pain but still managed to hold a tone of condescending mockery. "You can't...defeat me in battle. If it wasn't for your tricks. ....wouldn't have caught me at all."

"And you're pathetic for being caught by my tricks." She reasoned calmly, flicking the metal shard in his right index finger. "And...I have even more of my 'pathetic' tricks to show you."

For a moment it seemed as if nothing happened. Then he realized that he just hadn't been able to feel it with his fingers throbbing and flushed with heat. The temperature of the metal shards embedded in his fingers was rising rapidly. Instinct was forcing his body to try and jerk away from the source of the heat, stubbornly ignoring the rational part of his brain that knew such a thing was impossible.

His captor chuckled in amusement as his body jerked and writhed with pain. Humiliation accompanied the agony with rage following close behind. He wanted to be free of this, he wanted to be ripping this bitch apart with his bare hands. She would pay for every one of the torments she inflicted on him.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a new source of pain as something cut across his back. Saki heard a crack that had to be from a whip before it lashed against his back again. It brought white hot agony sudden and sharp, cutting into his flesh again and again. When it finally stopped he had lost count of how many lashes he had received. He could feel the blood flow down his back and onto the floor, feel the throbbing agony from his numerous wounds.

He hung limp in his chains, his head bowed in exhaustion, his body trembling from the pain. He screamed as sudden pain flared through his hands again. The needles in his fingers were ripped away without warning. Moments later he heard the chains clanking before his feet were freed, then his hands were unchained. He fell the short distance to the ground, gasping for breath as the impact knocked the wind from his lungs and send an unbearable fire through his midsection.

“Don’t try anything funny.” His tormenter spoke, punctuating her point by threateningly letting a few notes escape from her bells. The fall had knocked his blindfold slightly askew. Lifting his head seemed far too great an effort, so he instead let his eyes scan the floor with slightly blurred vision.

What he saw made his eyes widen and his heart beat faster. Lying on the floor by a large pair of black boots was a long shard of metal, it’s end coated with blood. Only one…it had been dropped by mistake.

Rough hands grabbed him under each arm and hauled him to his feet. Saki gasped in pain, closing his eyes against it for a moment before fixing the position of the needle again. As his captors started to drag him back towards his cell he suddenly tore himself free of their grasp. Hope instilled new strength into him as he spun to face his captors.

They lunged for him. Saki leapt backwards, falling to one knee with the effort for a moment before leaping up and punching one of the incoming attackers in the face. He felt the very satisfying crunch of bone under his fist. The man howled in pain as blood started to gush from his broken nose. His success made the first attacker pause a moment. He took advantage of the opportunity, putting all of his strength into his strike. He aimed for the nose again. This time his flat palm struck the bottom of the man’s nose, driving the bone into his brain.

He had no time to celebrate his victory. The bells began their agonizing symphony, driving him to his knees. They continued as new goons entered the room and took him back to his prison.

For a long while he lay on the floor of his cell, reveling in the silence and trying to guard himself against the blinding lights. After awhile he forced himself to move, making his way toward the sink. He indulged in a drink before collapsing heavily into a sitting position.

As far as he could tell, no one had noticed. When he fell to his knees during his attack he had quickly picked the needle up from the floor. The only hiding place he could think of at the time had been inside the sai wound in his arm. He left it there, fearful of surveillance. It may not be much…but it was a weapon.
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For whom the bell tolls