#1 Kendratello Hater🖕

Fair warning! I can’t write action scenes. BUT it’ll be a little bit better after this little bit. Maybe.

I don’t actually know how to write at all. So. Ya know.

ALSO: tw for death and suicidal thoughts/intention (more so after this part but there’s a lil)

~

He did it.

He won.

He’s floating through the air, watching the world he knows close. But it doesn’t matter.

He won.

He smiles softly and hugs the picture of his family close to his chest.

Something moves to the right of him. His head tilts in the direction of the movement, but it moves just out of his vision before he can see what’s happening. He should probably turn his head or something. But he’s just so tired. He doesn’t hear any crashing footsteps or weapons charging up, or anything being unsheathed, so like, it’s probably fine.

Air whooshes past his face as he’s grabbed. Arms previously hugged to his chest are splayed to his side, legs kicking uselessly at the air around them. His breaths wheeze through constricted lungs as he’s gripped around his middle and squeezed. Turns out it wasn’t fine.

He scrambles against the grip as he’s lifted into the air and thrown. His swords fall from his hands as he flails trying to grab onto something -anything- to slow his fall.

There’s nothing.

A sicking crack fills his ears as his shell makes contact with the ground.

The world spins, fast and disorienting as he struggles to get back up. He feels something grab at his chest. He moved to swipe it away, only to be met with his own hand. He groaned.

Something in the distance moves again. He curses his concussion as his eyes refuse to focus. He runs through a proper protocol for concussion first aid when his train of thought is abruptly broken by a fist slamming against his carapace.

Air forces its way through his lungs. Shallow and forced. It’s not enough. Panic rips through him as he watches the exosuit raise his arm. His mind blanks as his chest is pressed further into the ground, all training out the window. What is he supposed to do against this?

He watches in horror as his carapace caves inward as the hand makes contact again. He bites back a scream as he struggles against the iron grip.

He needs to fight if he wants to live, he knows that. He knows. He put up a fight earlier, why was it so hard now? Air struggles to make its way through his broken chest as his mind wanders. What’s the point of fighting? His family is safe and their key is gone. He just wants to breat-

The hand squeezes him harder and lifts him up again. He pulled his arms into his shell slightly to brace himself for landing when instead, he was launched into the abyss. Tears fill his eyes as he sails. He doesn’t want to do this anymore.

His body hits the ground with a dull thud and he does not move. It burns as his lungs struggle to keep up with his frantic panting. He tries to pull himself up, but a flash of agony from his ribs pulls him back down.

The world manages to spin even more off kilter as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish, no air filtering through.

He can feel the creature staring at him.

Blood dribbles lazily from his mouth as he turns his head to look out beyond the floating rock he’s on. The photo is clutched close to his chest as he feels something roll down his cheek. He watches it land on his cracked carapace numbly. It’s a muted red color, something Mikey would have probably used in his graffiti paintings.

Mikey.

He needs to get back to his family. The slow drip from his mouth turns to a steady stream of liquid as he slowly pulls himself into a standing position. The monster was still staring at him, cold and calculating, he was taunting him, but Leo couldn’t hear a word over the rush of blood in his ears.

A hand launches at his figure again, too fast for his aching body to dodge. The blow hits him, and his ego. He was always the fastest during training sessions. Always the fastest when they took down villains. Always the first to quip and joke to lighten the mood. So why was it so hard to put on that facade now? Why- why was it so hard to just fight back?

Pain blooms around his middle as he’s lifted into the air. The monster studies him, looking him up and down before piercing a claw through his leg. He screeches, blood pooling from the wound as he tries to escape. The monster lets go, claw tearing through muscle and bone and leaving a gaping hole in his leg.

There’s a moment of weightlessness before he’s thrust back into the ground. His head hits the ground breaking the rock under him and send him soaring into the floating rubble.

He thinks he screams for it to stop.

He’s picked up again, this time thrown impossibly deeper into the endless expanse of the dimension. He’s done. He can’t win. There’s nothing he can do to make it back home.

His body hits a rock as he soars. A pang of something registers in his chest.

Sadness?

No.

Disappointment.

There’s a pang of disappointment each time he hits a piece of debris and does not die. It’s disgusting to want it, selfish and vile and he - he has a family. He never wanted it to end this way.

But he won and that’s all that matters. His family is safe and he’s here. He’s ok with that. They don’t need him anymore. They’re safe. His hands clutch desperately at his photo as more tears leak from his eyes. It burns as the salt flows into the cuts. He watches lazily as blood flows from his wounds, strange and floaty in the antigravity of the prison dimension. It would have been kinda cool to see if it wasn’t his own blood.

A light appears at the edge of his vision and he sighs. The pain is less now, more like tv static than the stabbing, white hot pain earlier. The light means he’s done. He smiles.

Something Red (or was it Purple?) grabs him roughly. His arms are too tired to resist, but he tries. He wanted to be done. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. He throws his arms up over his head, a que he hopes the monster will take.

No weapon, no fight. Hopefully it will be quick.

The Purple/Red is unrelenting and pulls him closer to the light. He can see his brothers. He’s glad they’re the last thing he’ll see. The fight leaves his body and he closes his eyes as light fills his vision.

~

Leo hears before he sees. Sounds of muddled panic and yelling. It hurts his head. Someone is rubbing their fingers in circles along his face. Gently, but it still hurts. His eyes open a crack and he sees his twin brother staring down at him. The light of the sunset was too bright for him, sending flashes of pain into his temple. He blinked slowly to try and adjust to the light as he looked around. His head is being cradled by Donnie, and Raph is on the phone. His head swims with questions as nausea rolls through his stomach.

The sound of everything is too much. The prison dimension had no sound. Just the empty vacuums of space, prime’s taunting and his own screaming. The sudden onslaught of noise makes his head throb. His body beats in tandem with his head and his stomach twists uncomfortably. He leans over as far as his twin will let him and hurls. It burns his throat but he feels a little better. His twin is telling him it’s ok, that he’s ok, that he’s gonna be ok.

His twin never lies. He’s going to be alright. He dimly wonders where Mikey is as he closes his eyes again.

~

His eyes snap open. This is all wrong. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be dead. No one actually saw a light when they died.

Probably.

Ok, maybe he’s never died before so he wouldn’t know, but it felt way too cliche to be true. His mind was playing tricks on him. One last cruel joke before he kicked the can.

He squirmed under the grip of his fake twin. The grip falters for a moment and he takes his chance. He threw himself onto the ground and blindly scraped his hand over the concrete looking for his swords. They’re here somewhere. He threw them to the side a while ago, but he’ll find them again. He needs to… what does he need to do again? Stupid concussion. He’s pulled back almost instantly by a grip too strong for him to break.

Ah. He’s supposed to get back home.

“I wanna go home” he screamed trying to twist his way out of the grip again. “ I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna go HOME I WANNA GO HOME.” He repeats it like a prayer. Tears flow down his face as he’s pinned in place.

“You are home. You’re ok.” A gentle voice is whispering close to his ear and rubbing his face again. It’s repeated over and over again, a challenge to his own screaming. But it’s not real. It can’t be.

Air won’t enter his lungs again. He chokes, his breathing garbled and wet as blood fills his lungs, but he continues his chant.

There’s a flurry of movement around him and he’s jostled slightly. The white knuckled grip on him relaxes and he’s pulled close to someone. In a hug maybe? He’s too tired to care. And right now all he wants is air in his lungs.

Rain splashes on his face as his lungs stutter. Maybe this isn’t a trick? He can’t imagine the feeling of rain. Blood drips from his mouth as he stops his screaming to look up into the sky.

The sky was a bright blue. There was no rain. It was his twin.

His twin was crying.

Donnie never cried.

Donnie was crying because of Leo. His chest filled with pain as he realized he couldn’t fix this. It hurt worse than the beating he’d taken mere minutes earlier. He wasn’t going to be ok.

Donnie had lied.

Tears flowed faster down his own face as he reached blindly for Donnie’s hand. His vision was blurry -probably from the multiple times he was bashed against a rock he realized dimly- but he couldn’t find it so he just slapped a hand to his plastron and hoped Don got the message.

His chest spasmed as air forced its way through. He wanted to tell his twin that he’s sorry. That he’s sorry it had to end this way. That he doesn’t want to leave him. That he’s scared. That he really, really doesn’t want to die. His vocal cords vibrate sluggishly against the blood coating his throat.

A wet garble escapes his mouth and he tries again, this time managing a goopy, raspy sound. Not a word, but hey, progress is progress. He’s about to try again when a tear hits his cheek and he’s pulled against Donnie’s chest. His head is cradled against his twin’s plastron, his ear placed directly over his heart. The noise, although faster than it should be, is reassuring. He feels his consciousness starting to slip and clears his throat as best he can.

“Anata wa hitori ja nai.” He whispers as darkness clouds his vision.

He hopes Donnie heard.

~

Yuppers here’s part one of whatever this is 🫠

-writing anon

Stupid tumbler ruining my paragraph format for literally no reason