A/N: Inspired by a plot bunny put forth by dearjoanwallace on Stealthy Stories. Thank you, dearjoanwallace for giving me permission to use the plot bunny. This will be a bit darker than some of my other stories, so if you don't like, don't read. But, for those of you brave enough to venture into the dark, twisted depths of my imagination, I bid you welcome. Sit down, buckle up and enjoy the ride.

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with TMNT.

Cold sweat slowly ran down the man's face. Coarse rope dug into his wrists and ankles, cutting deep into his flesh. Thick tape was wrapped around his mouth and a blindfold kept him in the dark. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs, his stomach churned and lurched in crippling terror. He didn't know how long he had been here, wherever "here" was. The last thing he remembered, he was out on patrol when he was ambushed and knocked senseless. When he woke up he discovered he was tied to a chair, blindfolded and gagged.

Somewhere in the darkness a speaker sparked to life. The man jumped, letting out a muffled cry. His eyes began to burn with tears of fear and terror. What did his captors want? Why didn't they show themselves?

"All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel," a voice sang slowly over the speakers in a haunting tone.

The man began to sob. He was going to die. There was no denying it. He was going to die here.

"The monkey thought 'twas all in fun," the voice continued to sing.

The darkness was shattered by the loud bang of a heavy door opening. The speaker turned off. The man tried to still his rapid breathing as footsteps shuffled across the concrete floor. It was a long, confident stride. No hesitation, only determination. Fingers wrapped underneath the blindfold and the piece of cloth was pulled off the man's face. He blinked several times to get his vision to focus. A fuzzy white blur stood off in the distance with a fuzzy dark blur leaning up against the doorway.

"What do we have here, Donnie?" came a deep, accented voice.

He tried to place the accent. New York, maybe? He couldn't tell. He felt a strong hand grab his upper left arm.

"Foot clan," the voice sneered. "Question is: How far up are you?"

The man tried to speak, but the tape hindered his speech. The hand reached up and pressed a pressure point in the man's neck. He cried out in pain.

"That was a rhetorical question," the voice said. "I know you're nothing more than a lowly foot soldier. Doing the Shredder's dirty work."

The man moved his eyes upward. In the light he could see a tall figure with dark emerald green skin. A crimson red mask was tied around the figure's eyes. The man felt his heart plummet into his stomach. He now knew who his captors were. The clan some said were more notorious than the Foot. The clan that had made many Foot soldiers disappear.

The Hamato clan.

The red masked turtle grinned when he saw the fear in his captive's eyes. "What's the matter? I thought you Foot clan goons were trained not to show fear to the enemy."

"Maybe he's a new recruit," the figure at the doorway suggested.

"Even new recruits know where Shredder is," the red masked turtle said. He leaned over to whisper in the man's ear. "So, tell me, new recruit. Where is your master Shredder?"

The man closed his eyes and sobbed, mumbling something behind the gag.

"What was that?" the turtle asked, cutting away the tape.

"I don't know," the man sobbed wretchedly.

"Come, now. You must know something," the turtle said.

The man shook his head. "I don't know. I'm sorry. But, I don't know anything. Bottom rung soldiers aren't told where the main headquarters is located." His breath hitched and he choked on a sob. "I'm sorry."

The turtle took a deep breath, removing a blade from a scabbard on his side.

"You're going to be," he said.

He took a hold of the man's head and pulled it back, exposing his throat. He put the blade to the human's throat, but before he could finish the job, a voice stopped him.

"That's enough, Raphael," the voice declared.

All eyes turned to a short blue masked turtle that had suddenly appeared in the doorway. The purple masked turtle who had been standing there before slipped further away from the newcomer. Raphael released his hostage and slowly stalked over to the blue masked turtle.

"What was that, Leonardo?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.

The blue masked turtle seemed to shrink inside his shell as his taller brother loomed over him. All his bravado instantly evaporated as Raphael stood at his full height. He was a good foot above the smaller turtle at six feet. The turtle in blue seemed to reached only five feet, if that. He was thin, scrawny, not looking like he had any muscle mass at all. Not like the turtle in red who seemed to have been blessed with all the dominant genes.

"Mind saying that again? I didn't quite hear you," Raphael said.

Leonardo shrank further inside his shell, shaking his head. Raphael huffed and stepped back.

"That's what I thought," he sneered. "Don't ever forget who your superior is, runt. I'm the leader. You do as I say."

Leonardo nodded. "My apologies," he whimpered.

"You're lucky I'm so forgiving," Raphael told him. He turned to his other brother, nodding to the human. "He's all yours, Donnie."

Donatello grinned and rubbed his hands together. "We're gonna have some fun," he said.

Raphael stormed off, the walls echoing with his heavy footsteps. Leonardo followed behind Raphael, hearing Donatello close the door as they walked away. They walked out into the main area of the lair. Leonardo looked up to see Michelangelo leaning out over the railing of a catwalk. The large drainage junction had been their home for the last ten years. Their first home had been destroyed by Shredder and the Foot clan in an attempt to destroy them. In the skirmish, Splinter had lost his left eye and part of his right leg.

Leonardo's eyes drifted down to an alcove near the back of the lair. The haunting form of his master stood in the doorway of his room. Leonardo lowered his head and made his way towards the dojo.

"Leonardo," Splinter snapped.

Leonardo stopped dead in his tracks, blood turning to ice.

"Come. Now."

Swallowing down the bile that was creeping up his throat, Leonardo turned and made his way over to where Splinter was standing. He was leaning heavily on his crutch. Leonardo's eyes hovered on his father's missing right leg. He knelt down in front of the rat, head bowed, eyes lowered.

"Why did you interfere?" Splinter demanded. "You were told to stay in the surveillance room with Michelangelo."

Leonardo didn't answer. He just seemed to shrink inside his shell.

"Answer!" Splinter yelled.

"He was going too far," Leonardo blurted out. "I just...I couldn't stand by and do nothing. I couldn't."

Splinter's eyes flashed with anger. "Your job is to stay out of sight and let your brothers handle the interrogations," he hissed.

Leonardo lowered his head. "Yes, sensei," he murmured.

Splinter huffed and disappeared into his room. Leonardo got to his feet and turned back towards the dojo.

"Leo got in trouble," Michelangelo sang from his perch.

"Shut up, Mikey," Leonardo muttered under his breath.

He walked into the dojo only to stop at the doorway. Raphael was inside pounding away at his punching bag. Leonardo backed up and turned around.

"Think you're pretty tough, huh?" Raphael asked, stopping the smaller of the two in his tracks. "Barging in like that. Acting like some kind of hero."

"I wasn't trying to be a hero," Leonardo replied.

A large hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. Scared brown eyes stared up at vicious amber ones.

"Don't ever interrupt me like that again," Raphael snarled. "Got it?"

Leonardo quickly nodded, shrinking back from the taller turtle.

"Because next time, I won't be so forgiving," Raphael hissed.

"Yes, sir," Leonardo whimpered.

"Good. Now, go do something that doesn't involve me seeing you," Raphael ordered.

Leonardo turned and hurried away, dashing up the stairs and vanishing into his room. He slammed the door shut and locked it, leaning up against it, chest heaving. He closed his eyes as he slid down to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, folding his arms on top of his knees and burying his face in his arms. His body shook with violent sobs. He hated the tyrant Raphael had become. He hated the dark, twisted shells Michelangelo and Donatello had turned into. Leonardo continued to sob, his cries echoing off the cold metal walls of his room.

He wanted his old family back.

Reviews are welcome, flames are not