Please note: Mafuz = Mikey, Raghu = Raph, Lycurgus = Leo, and Donovan = Donny. They're named differently because the whole idea behind them was that they would stick out in a role play, because we had lots of Leos/Dons/Raphs/Mikeys with suffixes or affixes. These guys were meant to simplify our lives in the chat with their names. They will also serve a purpose if I ever get around to writing some cross-dimensional stories.

Disclaimer: I own Fuz and Gus; LK owns Raghu and Donovan. The original turtles are property of someone… Not me.

Chapter 1: The Capture

"Keep your back safe, Fuz!" Raghu ordered, golden-brown eyes flashing as he pushed himself to his feet, straightening to his 5'10" height, towering over his little brother. His right arm bled sluggishly, the red blood running down his medium green skin and over the red bandana tied near his elbow. Raghu growled and shoved Fuz away as the youngest tried to check his wound; the turtle stumbled and nimbly ducked under a ninja's blade. "Get your head in the fight!" Raghu threw one of his knives into the eye of a ninja and palmed another throwing knife in his right hand; he lashed out at his enemies with the wickedly sharp blade, almost a foot long, in his left hand.

Mahfuz backed away, twirling his nunchucks into his attacker's face. The sharp spikes destroyed the human's cheek; he screamed and clawed at his face as Fuzzy pulled his nunchuck out and whipped it into another ninja's groin. His blue eyes twinkled with concentration; his pale skin seemed to glow slightly in the neon light from the nearby billboard sign, the only light up on the rooftop where he and his brothers fought the Foot ninjas. He was shorter than almost all of the humans at only 5'2", his shell and plastron a dark brown.

Donovan used the sharp blades embedded in his Bo to slice through his enemies. He had started the night trying to knock them out with the duller side of his Bo, but as they showed up thicker and thicker, he was forced to use his blades to keep up. He was four inches taller than Fuzzy, the same height as Lycurgus, and he had darker skin than the youngest. His light brown eyes searched for his next target as he whapped a human in the back, slicing into the spinal cord.

Lycurgus fought his way out of a tangle of bodies, using his wickedly sharp katanas to slice arteries, tendons, and – where possible – eyes. Master Splinter had taught him how to avoid getting his katanas stuck in bone, for without them, he and his brothers were at a great disadvantage. His rich brown eyes struck fear in his enemies, as did his heavily scarred light brown shell and dark gold plastron, testaments to the skills of the brothers of the men he faced.

Taking a moment during a lull in the battle, Lycurgus surveyed the battle area. Several ninjas were groaning and holding in intestines, while others didn't move. There were still scattered groups; Mahfuz was hard-pressed to keep a group of them off. Lycurgus went to help him but was stopped when Donovan cried out in both fear and anger as he was sliced across his arm; the eldest had to get to the braniac first.

He drove his katanas into the bodies of two ninjas and jerked them free, feeling a rush of satisfaction as arterial blood sprayed from their chests. He didn't like killing, but knowing that his enemies wouldn't come back left him feeling a certain satisfaction.

Donovan nodded in thanks and took a breather, leaning on his Bo. Lycurgus quickly checked his brother's injury – it wasn't bleeding badly, but it would slow Don down. It sliced with the grain of his bicep, at least.

Lycurgus left Donovan to patch himself up and moved to Mahfuz's side. A good ninja gave him a few seconds pause; he finally managed to kill him and turned back to the youngest. Fuzzy was doing his best to keep a clear space around him, but as the eldest watched, a ninja jumped in and stabbed the turtle with a needle.

Somewhere behind Lycurgus, Raghu roared. The biggest turtle was a blur as he launched himself at the ninja. Lycurgus cleaned up the rest of the ninjas as Donovan held Fuzzy up.

"Fuzzy, stay awake," Donovan said quietly, slapping the youngest gently. "We need to get out of here," he told his older brothers.

Lycurgus surveyed the rooftop. Raghu snorted and twirled his knives around in nervous tension. While they had been distracted, more ninja had come – about twenty in all. "Protect Fuzzy. We need to get underground," Raghu ordered. Lycurgus nodded. He was usually the leader, but being mute was dangerous if he was in charge during a fight. The two eldest were very good at communicating silently, though, and Raghu worked seamlessly as Lycurgus's second in command.

Lycurgus and Raghu fought to keep the ninjas from approaching Donovan and Mahfuz. The braniac defended himself and the littlest turtle from the occasional enemy that slipped around the eldest brothers.

Mahfuz was clearly unconscious, and deeply; he didn't respond when Donovan tripped over him and crashed to his shell, skidding along the rooftop until he finally hit his head on the edge. He saw stars and dropped his Bo; Raghu called his name, but the braniac was too confused to answer.

The big turtle wanted to go to Don's aid but was pressed by a ninja too good with a single katana to be a new recruit. Raghu growled and disemboweled the man, but it cost precious moments. He cleared a space around himself and looked for his brothers. Lycurgus was hard-pressed by a newly-arrived Elite, circling and lunging ferociously. He snarled silently; Raghu looked away and searched for Donovan. The braniac was struggling to his feet, holding a hand to a gash on his head. Raghu couldn't see Mahfuz and started to panic.

"Fuz!" Raghu called, working his way through the bodies to where his brother had been. The youngest was missing. Donovan finally managed to shake his confusion and raced to Raghu's side. "Where is he?" Raghu demanded.

"I… Dunno," Donovan answered breathlessly. "I think I blacked out a bit…"

Raghu left Donovan to protect himself and made his way through the entire battlefield in case Fuz had woken and crawled to a safer place. He put down the last of the ninjas with a knife through the eye, clearing the rooftop. Lycurgus joined the search; they even went to the alleyway below in case the youngest had fallen off the roof in confusion.

As the moments ticked by, all three started to panic.

If he's hiding, I will kill him myself, Raghu seethed, opening a dumpster. He yelped as a rat launched itself at his face and batted it aside, but there was no sign of Fuzzy.

"We must find him," Lycurgus signaled, using a special sign language he and Raghu had developed. Donovan nodded.

"Could the Foot have taken him?"

"It's possible. Call Sensei and tell him we're going after them." Raghu translated for Lycurgus. The two eldest went back up to the roof to find the trail of their enemies. Donovan called their Sensei, explained the situation, and then caught up to his brothers. They easily followed the ninjas – several left blood trails over the rooftops and in the alleys.

Lycurgus growled. He didn't know why they would capture one of his brothers – their agenda had always been to kill. However, he didn't like it, since change in the Foot clan meant new tactics.

~~Elsewhere~~

Fuzzy groaned and inhaled sharply as a throbbing pain behind his eyes brought on a headache. He carefully opened his eyes – the room was dark. He was lying on a stone floor. Did Don put him on the floor of the lair? Why? And why weren't the lights on?

"Don? Gus?" Mahfuz sat up and tried to look around, but it was very dark – he couldn't even see any lights from the TVs and video game consoles usually in the living room. Was he in the infirmary?

Cold silence answered him. Fuzzy was worried – were his brothers busy with someone else's injuries? He didn't feel too bad – his neck hurt, and his headache wasn't going away – so he sat up, automatically drawing his legs to himself.

"You are awake." Mahfuz blinked. The voice came from everywhere, and it wasn't any of his brothers, or his father. He stood, holding his head as his vision spun and – well, it would have turned dark, but he couldn't see anyway.

"Lights." Fuz grunted and flung an arm over his eyes as white light bombarded his eyes. His headache roared into a furious migraine, pounding at his temples like the mallets he used on his refurbished Whack-a-Mole game.

Mahfuz blinked tears from his eyes and squinted. Slowly, almost so slowly he could feel it, his pupils shrank and he realized the room was much smaller than even the infirmary. He could stretch out his hands and easily touch all four walls.

His kneepads and elbow pads were gone, as were his nunchucks. Though ridiculous, he felt naked and searched for his belongings. They weren't in the room – it was bare, and made of stone blocks mortared together like the old dungeons in Don's history shows. The only ornament was a single black blob on the ceiling, which was too far away to touch. The room was disorienting – almost ten feet tall, Fuz guessed, but about five feet wide and long. He felt like he was in a cracker box.

Behind him, he heard the characteristic hiss any science fiction geek would know – that of a pneumatic door opening. He whirled and found himself face-to-face with a human. Blinking rapidly, Mahfuz clapped his beak shut. Master Splinter had told them – endlessly, it felt – not to speak to humans.

Time to play dumb, Fuzzy told himself. Maybe they didn't hear you… He hoped so. Fuz backed away, dropping his shoulders and trying to imitate Raghu in a mood. Be afraid, he thought at the human. Be very afraid.

"It's okay." The human's voice was smaller when coming only from her - Mahfuz could see the lumps human called breasts on the human's chest – mouth. She had deep blue eyes, raven-black hair that was cut into a centimeter-long fuzz, and was white-skinned, almost pale enough that he imagined she didn't get outside all that often. She was two inches taller than him, Fuzzy guessed – around 5'4", perfectly average in both height and build, though perhaps a little heavy around the hips for his taste.

It was obvious that she was trying to calm him down; Mahfuz reacted as any scared, unhappy, and disoriented animal would – he stood a little straighter and tilted his head. Be nice to me. I'm defenseless and stupid.

Somewhere in his head, Mahfuz heard Raghu snort. That's fer sure, his brother's voice snickered.

"Look, food." The human put a head of lettuce on the ground. Fuz stared at it. Seriously? Well… Sure, turtle-looking, but you could at least offer it on a plate… "Yum yum yum." She crouched and looked slightly away, a hand in her pocket crinkling something. "Mmmm yummy."

Mahfuz struggled to contain himself. The human was dealing with him like a skittish dog. But he had to play the part – he moved forward slightly, making wet sniffing noises. With a glance at the human, he snatched the lettuce – from the ground – and scurried as far away as he could. Though he didn't like it, he opened his mouth and gnawed on the lettuce head.

"Good girl."

Fuzzy almost spat the lettuce out on the human. Girl? Do I look like a girl? Sure, he was a mutant turtle, but surely these humans could tell just by looking at his plastron. It curved into his body, not away. He did keep his claws short, but still! He was also small. He'd speculated about Raghu being female, though – he was much bigger than the rest of them. But Fuz didn't dare bring that up to the biggest turtle.

Mahfuz concentrated on chewing the lettuce until he noticed the human standing only a couple feet from him, studying him. He growled at her over his lettuce head and scooted away, towards the now-closed door.

"Shhh… It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Yeah, okay, Mahfuz thought to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I know you can understand me." No, you don't. Mahfuz almost smacked himself; he was having a conversation, even if the human only heard half of it.

"We heard you talk earlier. Who is Don? Your owner? And Gus?"

Mahfuz ignored her resolutely, making a show of licking his fingers after he finished the lettuce. He sat down in a corner and turned his shell on the human. She huffed and told him, "You will find your time here much easier if you speak." The door hissed as it opened and closed.

Fuzzy sighed to himself. He just had to keep acting dumb and wait for his brothers to rescue him. He would probably have to do a ton of punishment training for getting caught, but he would do it happily if he could eat pizza again. The lettuce stuck to the back of his throat and he wished for a glass of water to wash it down with, while he was at it.

Maybe I can pantomime it… Like to my "owners," Fuzzy snickered to himself. The black blob on the ceiling was either mold or a camera, and Fuzzy was willing to bet it was the latter. They had been able to hear him somehow, too. He scanned the room again and then scratched at a corner at random, making whimpering noises. I do play a rather convincing animal, if I do say so myself.

"What do you want?" That woman's voice came back. Fuzzy pretended to start and search frantically for whatever was speaking. A gusty sigh came through the speakers – wherever they were. "Just ask and you shall receive, beast."

I'm much more handsome than the Beast! If it was a choice between the Beast and me, Belle would definitely go for me. Who couldn't fall for this? Mahfuz was a lot more handsome to human females in his mind than they seemed to show. Perhaps they were awed by his awesomeness and so could only scream and run. He preferred that to… Well, the real explanation.

Fuzzy pointed at his mouth and coughed. The voice sighed again. "If you're going to throw up, use the bucket." A bucket appeared through a chute, landing in the corner to the right of the door. Fuz almost shook his head, but remembered just in time that he couldn't react. He pointed more urgently.

"Perhaps the animal requires water." This voice was definitely male; it sounded like that generic man voice in commercials.

A bowl sloshed water as it was pushed – by a human hand – through a trapdoor opposite the bucket's corner. Mahfuz leapt on it and decided he could finally do something he'd been itching to try – drinking water like a dog. However, he soon found it way more messy and very inefficient, since he couldn't curl his tongue. So he stuck his face in and drank deeply. He emptied the bowl, feeling much better, and retreated to the wall opposite the door. Using his hands, he scrubbed the lettuce bits from his "meal" off his face.

~~In the Observation Booth~~

Juliet marveled at the creature. It had learned some basic human signals, obviously – perhaps to communicate with its previous owners. She had so many questions about it, about its life. Where had it come from? Why wasn't it all over the news? Judging by the scarring and aging signs, it was nearly an adult. She had no clue how long it would have taking this being to reach full maturity. Turtles grew to adulthood quickly, and this creature seemed very turtle-like. Humans were slower at it, taking just over 20 years from birth. She would have to observe its growth behavior for at least a year to determine just how slowly it would approach maturity. Juliet wrote a memo to herself, to add tests for any spikes in hormones that would indicate that the creature was in heat, another sign of maturity.

It was obviously bipedal, however, which led to more questions – specifically about its skeletal and muscular structure. Did it have a spine like a vertebrate, or were its ribs – if it had any, she reminded herself – attached to its shell? Could it pull its limbs into its shell? The arms and legs looked too long, but with this creature, anything seemed possible.

Though Juliet was technically a biologist, she had interests in many fields, and had studied nearly every discipline in the scientific community. It obviously breathed oxygen; it seemed to have lungs. While it was out, she had observed its ribcage – or chest area, really – rising and falling like a human's, though only about two or three millimeters, barely enough to notice.

She couldn't wait to get her hands on its bloods and fluid for tests. Her boss had told her to wait until it was healed, but judging by the rapid recovery rate – the wound was already scabbed by the time she had been given permission to approach it – it would be a matter of a couple days. Until then, Juliet planned to use her team of psychologists to figure out how best to communicate with the creature.

It had spoken before – Don and Gus. Either they were names of its owners, or it was speaking gibberish. Juliet didn't know where it had been found, nor what had gone into subduing it – the muscle tone in the creature spoke of great strength, and it seemed to have a natural grace. It was fast – it had plucked the lettuce from the floor nearly so quickly that she didn't see it. An odd quality for a turtle – they were generally clumsy on land, and slow by reputation, though she knew, from experience with a nasty snapper in a pond once, that they could move quickly if they had to.

"Are the new quarters prepared?" The man speaking behind her, John, was a cold-hearted scientist. She had heard rumors that he was behind many unorthodox experiments involving animals and dangerous tests. He did not seem to enjoy learning; Juliet rather suspected he enjoyed having the power to dominate a creature. His hazel eyes anxiously scanned the data readings on the monitors. John had an annoying habit when distracted – he would curl a finger through his shoulder-length blonde hair. With his tan skin and muscular, but not overly so, build, he looked more like he belonged on the cover of "Surfer Times" than in a lab. He towered over Juliet by about five inches.

The last few hours had been spent cleaning out a large room and digging through the concrete floor to prepare a large terrarium. Fake shrubbery had been being installed when Juliet last checked; the man John was talking to answered that they were just filling the pool with freshwater now. The creature did not have apparent gills, so they had opted against an aquarium, but since it did seem to resemble a red eared slider, a common turtle, they had decided to provide a pool deep enough to submerge in, complete with sunning logs and rocks on the bank.

John turned next to another scientist in the booth. A team of specialists where studying the items that had come with the creature; it had had some sort of padding on its elbows and knees plus wicked-looking Bruce Lee nunchucks. They reported that the padding had been altered from skateboarding or biking gear, and sewn with a small, delicate stitch – much too small for the large fingers on the turtle-thing itself. The nunchucks were smeared with blood, both newer and older – indicated it fought often. Judging by the scars on the turtle, which were few, it had been abused or forced to fight, like a rooster in a cock-fighting ring.

Juliet wasn't sure what to think about that. If this creature had been seen in a fighting ring before, surely someone would have spoken of it. That said it might have been abused, so Juliet was instructed to be very gentle, calm – and cautious. A threatened animal, if faced with a new threat, might finally snap.

Somehow, though, Juliet felt a connection to the creature. Not only as one of the most important scientific discoveries of the millennia – studying its healing abilities alone would probably provide some good insight into regeneration for humans – but as an intelligent being. Something in its eyes, she supposed – though she had broken eye contact quickly, as instructed, so as to not present herself as a threat.

"It's time to move it," John told her. Juliet glanced at the clock – it was nearly lunch time. "We'll let it get accustomed to its new quarters and feed it."

"Let's try putting more of a salad in. I don't think she liked the lettuce," a technician suggested nearby. She was a behavioral psychologist with something akin to a sixth sense when it came to animals. Kristen had worked with large animals in zoos around the world when they were injured or uncooperative. Her green eyes were quiet, her brown hair straight as a board as it fell past her shoulders. She was only a couple inches taller than Juliet , but her lean and muscular frame and panther-like grace bespoke power. Kristen could just as easily charm a pain-crazed animal as she could pin a struggling young lion to the ground to medicate it.

Juliet was surrounded by taller people; somehow, she felt, the national statistic for average height for a female had to be skewed. Perhaps she was in the wrong field, or working in the wrong line of work.

"We should vary her diet until we find something she likes. She'll feel more comfortable if she eats familiar foods," Kristen continued. She always referred to animals as if they were human enough to understand her.

"What would its owner have fed it?" John asked, eyebrow raised.

Kristen shrugged. "Look at her teeth. Pump her stomach – oh, wait, you already fed her lettuce." This lady was the only one would dared criticize John, but Juliet agreed with the taller woman. "If she is a carnivore, try cooked meat first. If she appears to be an herbivore, offer a variety of dishes. If she is an herbivore, try a more diverse bit of a salad. Lettuce isn't exactly filling, especially when only fed one head."

"Make it happen," John ordered another technician. The man hopped to. "You two, come with me. We'll escort it to its new home." Kristen and Juliet followed John and his two picked technicians.

"Allow me," Kristen suggested. "It is likely agitated by now."

"The lettuce had a calming agent in it. We'll be fine." John brushed her aside and opened the door to the creature's enclosure. It was sitting against the far wall, but stood when John and the two men walked in. Juliet watched intently – it stood like a human, though it didn't seem to need to push itself off the wall. It surveyed them, dropping its shoulders and sliding one leg backwards slightly.

Kristen sucked in a breath quietly; Juliet turned to look at her. "She's going to charge," Kristen murmured, moving out of the doorway and pulling the shorter woman with her. "She wants her space," Kristen said just loudly enough for John to hear. "Let her be."

John was about to answer when it attacked. It launched itself bodily at the three men, moving rapidly. John grunted by managed to keep his feet, though his helpers were not so lucky. They fell, and the turtle leapt over them. Kristen was in the doorway, and the creature hesitated.

"Shhhh," she murmured, doing something with her hand. Juliet and the creature both looked to see what her hand was doing, and John took the opportunity to stab the animal with a needle. Or at least tried; the turtle slid away from the attack. Juliet could swear it smiled, but it was hard to tell.

"Calm down," Kristen said authoritatively. The creature glanced at her, but circled away from John carefully. "Sit." Juliet could see that Kristen was trying to see if the creature had been taught any basic commands – perhaps, if it attacked them, it was just as aggressive to its previous handler. "Stop. Heel. Stay. Whoa."

It snorted and shook its head, obviously trying to solve something. Juliet could literally feel the cogs in its mind turning as it tried to figure out what Kristen was trying to tell it. It cocked its head and lowered its hands slightly; Kristen relaxed a tad.

"Stay," she repeated. "Back." It moved backwards obediently, turning slightly sideways and diverting its gaze to the ground. Kristen moved forward, her legs stiff, head high, arms held out slightly. "Stand still."

It didn't understand that; it kept backing up into the wall and then just stood there, looking away. John growled and moved forward; Kristen shot him a murderous look. "Do not interfere," she said loudly. "If you do, it will tell him that I am not the alpha here, and he might attack again. Just let me calm him down."

He? Juliet wondered to herself, silently moving into the room. But… It has short claws like a female turtle. She looked at its plastron and blinked – it seemed to be flat, not rounded like a female's. When it was unconscious, it had been on its plastron, so she hadn't been able to really examine it, and it had been whisked away before she could check for the cloaca.

"He's a male," Kristen said, as if hearing Juliet's thoughts. "Notice the flat plastron. His tail's very short, if it has one at all. His claws looked clipped; probably his previous owners, if he attacked them like he did us. He doesn't like humans. I wouldn't if I were you, either, big boy." She now spoke to the turtle, soothingly. "Big mean humans hurt you, didn't they?" Juliet would have chuckled if the situation wasn't so tense. It was obvious that the turtle – a "he" now, apparently – was still nervous. It moved constantly, as though it couldn't stay still, shifting from foot to foot.

"Would you like food?" Kristen stressed the "food" and it looked up, blinking. It had one set of eyelids, and Juliet couldn't tell if he also had a clear membrane covering the actual eyes. "I have lots of yummy food, but you need to behave yourself." It tilted its head again. "Just behave. Be good." The creature blinked, but seemed to understand. It held its hands out like a person waiting to be handcuffed; Kristen motioned for John to move in.

The turtle twitched when the man injected him, keeping its eyes on Kristen's face as it slowly sat down. It was out within moments, breathing silently. Kristen let out a breath and looked at Juliet. John and his helpers, who had stayed on the ground, trussed the animal up and carried it from the room.

Juliet pulled Kristen aside as they followed the men at a discrete distance. "He's definitely intelligent. He was acting in there," Kristen murmured. "He knew exactly how to react to make it seem like he was confused. I've seen very smart chimps attempt it, but they usually can't. He's manipulating us."

Juliet chewed on that thought for a while. "Could it talk?" she finally asked.

"It spoke before, didn't it?"

"Just names. Perhaps it was parroting."

"Have you listened to that tape again?" Kristen flipped a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

"No. Why?"

"I think "Don" and "Gus" are friendlies to him. When he said those names, his voice wasn't overly stressed, but it still had some feeling in it. A parrot will imitate sounds it hears without knowing what they are, but this creature – we need a name for him – understood that he was calling for someone, and more importantly, he wanted whoever owns those names to hear him."

"That's a lot of speculation," Juliet muttered.

Kristen shrugged. "That's what I do best."

They arrived at the new enclosure. The men had untangled the leads they had on the turtle, leaving the collar on, and were closing the door. John motioned for Juliet to join him and they went up to the Observation Booth. The room was a balmy 85°F, a little warm for a human. The creature was coldblooded, Juliet knew, but it also had sweat glands like a human; curious. The water would be kept at about 75°F, and the basking areas had heat lamps directly over them to keep them in around 90°F.

"Now we wait for it to wake up. The food is inside already."

"It will spoil in that heat," Kristen protested.

"It's already waking up," John noted, ignoring the psychologist. Juliet looked out through the camera's high-def eyes and observed as the turtle woke up.

~~Down in the Enclosure~~

Fuzzy groaned softly to himself. He could feel that headache again, but he could also feel grass – okay, probably fake turf – under his plastron. Sitting up slowly, Fuz looked around. He was in a whole new area. The grass under his feet was real, he noticed, but the bushes and trees weren't. Just ahead was a pool, just deep enough to submerge in; a large, flat rock to his right was obviously supposed to be for basking. There was a log in the middle of the lake, probably for the same purpose.

A salad, wilting in front of his eyes, was sitting on the ground to his left. His stomach rumbled – he hadn't eaten much before the patrol run, and the head of lettuce had hardly been more than a snack. He quickly stuffed down the lettuce leaves and tomatoes, leaving the spinach. He hated spinach, unless it was in a cheesy lasagna. Maybe on a pizza, if it was slathered in cheese.

Once satisfied, Fuz opted to go for a swim. His brothers would find him, surely; he had tried to escape, but had hesitated when he had seen a woman in the doorway. Master Splinter always talk them to be chivalrous to females, unless they attacked first – like Karai. That had been a mistake; he was barely avoided the tall man's needle and then had had to act dumb for the woman in the doorway.

The water was nice and cool, but not too cold. He splashed a little, discretely cleaning himself with the sand on the bottom of the pool. Mahfuz almost felt like himself again as he climbed out onto the rock and flopped on his plastron, barely restraining a contented sigh. Instead, he focused on draping himself on the rock as lazily as he could. The heat was intoxicating – he dozed, making sure he didn't actually fall asleep. His brothers often complained of how he talked in his sleep, and the last thing he needed was more fuel for the humans' cruelty. Fuz would let them complain – if they'd come rescue him.