I've just been getting tired of watching the turtles being tortured and figured it was their turn for revenge. Thought I'd look at things from the opposite angle. I like to make up my own villains because it's just so much fun. I hope their evil-doing ways are sufficient. This will probably be a serial story.

"You're more than just a disposable minion, aren't you?" it asked again. It had been asking the same questions for days now.

"It's hard for me to remember. These ropes are kind of tight and they're distracting me." I was tied to a chair. I'd been tied on and off for days. Hours in the same position. They did allow me to eat and use the bathroom, under strict supervision. I suppose they can't get information from a dead informant. I know that they need what I know. That's the only reason I'm alive.

I've been staring at this blue masked monster for so long now. I know its name, but haven't spoken it. It hasn't provided its name either. My father told me everything I need to know about these creatures and I know far more about them than they know about me and that's the way I'd like to keep it.

The room is empty except for me and it. I sit tied to one chair and it sits against the wall and watches. It looks at the clock on the wall. It watches me again. It asks me the same questions over and over. It doesn't seem to need to rest or eat or sleep.

"Why do you wear that mask?" I asked. "Got something to hide?"

"Yes," was all it said.

It stared for a while longer. Then it spoke. "I am very patient. But my brother isn't quite as patient as myself."

"Sucks for him, I guess," I said.

"And for you," it said, leaving its chair. It left the room.

Leonardo. That is the thing's name. It hadn't deviated from the questioning since I'd woken up in this place. I knew that there were three others. I also knew that one of them was somewhere in my father's stronghold, squealing in pain. What were they playing at? What kind of torture was this? They were fighting a clock and they all knew it.

A second turtle entered the room. The body language was different. All swagger. The blue one moved like a trained dancer. This one favored a lumberjack. The red. Raphael. I knew the names of course.

"How you doing?" it asked. It sat in the other chair with its arms and legs spread out. All confidence.

"I feel like I've been tied to a chair for three days."

"I guess you and my big brother have been getting to know each other."

"Not really. It doesn't talk."

"It!" the red one yelled, throwing its weight at me. "My brother is a he! He has a name!"

"Yes, Leonardo. And you are Raphael."

"Know a lot about us, huh?"

I should not have said that. He had goaded me. I was losing focus. "I only know a little."

The red one watched me for a minute. He didn't stare like his brother, but watched. He said, "He's more of an observer. Likes to think things through and ask questions first. Really get his head around stuff."

"That is an admirable trait." I tried to move my fingers, which were numb with sleep.

"But I'm more of a doer. I've been sitting out there for three days now with nothing to do but think up ways that the two of us can spend our time."

"I'm flattered that you think that much of me."

He got up and kicked the chair hard against the wall. I flinched at the noise. I hadn't heard a sound for three days except the incessantly docile voice of that blue devil and the crack of the wood on cement took me by surprise.

"I don't think of you at all. I think of my little brother." He began pacing like a caged animal. "Did you know that a little posse of your boss' minions dropped by yesterday to save you? They're all taking a dirt nap now. This leads us to believe that you're some kind of special snowflake. That true?"

I didn't respond. I knew that my silence would be an affirmation and tried to think of something fast. "I'm a liability. Probably sent to get rid of me before I could give you any information."

He stopped pacing. "Yeah. That could be. But the thing is I don't really care. I've had nobody to play Guitar Hero with for over four days now and I've been coming up lots of ways to make myself feel better."

I couldn't contain myself. My father has a mission. I know that and I know that these things are a large and immovable object in his way. "Well, the thing that you speak of is most likely dead by now, so you'll have to find other ways to amuse yourself from now on."

He knelt down in front of me. Only now could I see the patchwork of faint scars in his green skin and instantly regretted taunting him. He looked thoughtful, as if he were about to speak, but then I felt a weight slam into my head and found myself on my side on the floor. The chair had broken apart as I hit the floor and I could feel his hands grab me under the arms as he pulled me to my feet.

And so it began.