Work Text:
You feel like kidnapping the turtles was a bad idea.
They’re infamous around the underbelly of New York; monsters who will interrupt any crime if you plan it out well enough. There’s four of them, and they have a penchant for stumbling into the business of anyone and everyone who doesn’t want to be disturbed. Still, they’re monsters, and they’re strong, and you really, really wouldn’t want to deal with the big red one if he weren’t thoroughly tied up. The blue one and orange one were no picnic either, but they went easily enough.
You think it’s a bad idea, and you told your boss, of course, but Big Mama just laughed and informed you that you weren’t being paid to think. Which is pretty generous, all things considered, since the last guy who questioned her got eaten. You’re lucky, even if you’re on guard duty for the turtles.
It took forever to get them chained down. Six foot recruits and a tranquilizer each, though the tranq didn’t even fully knock them out. In the lobby of the hotel now, wincing in sympathy at their bonds, you shift on your feet.
It’s been a long night, and all you want to do is go home and get away from the chaos of the turtle freaks. But you know that Big Mama won’t let anyone leave until she’s got the fourth turtle, too.
“Alright, Turtle Boo,” Big Mama cooed, tapping the blue one’s chin. He flinched back a little, even though she wasn’t in her spider form yet. “Just tell me where your lair is, and I’ll have all four of you fight in the Battle Nexus together! Won’t that be fun? It’ll raise your chances of winning!”
Blue grit his teeth, glaring. His expression, as you’d seen it, was normally cheerful and smiling. This grimace held none of that brightness.
“I’m not telling you where he is,” Blue snarled, tugging his arms against the chains. You flinch at the noise, and so do most of your recruit friends. Chains around the wrists, arms, knees, and ankles, for each one of them. All they can do is kneel and bleed through the shallow cuts scratched by the metal. Their weapons were heaped together about ten feet away, close to where you stood. The nunchuck was a cool color, too, you might have to take that one home when you go.
“What if I start being less friendly?” Big Mama said suddenly, shifting her attention. Her gaze lined up against the orange turtle in the middle, who was visibly the smallest. Big Mama grinned and took a step towards him. “I’m sure this one will be a hoot in the Nexus, all by himself. The warriors will have a wonderful time smashing him to bits.”
“Don’t,” the Blue one bit out, fury lining every bit of his muscles. He scooted just a bit closer to his brother, something akin to a threat in his stance. Next to them, on Orange’s other side, Red let out a low growl. He’d been hit with enough tranquilizers to down an adult rhino, but somehow he kept blinking himself awake. Now he stretched to his full, towering height, even forced to kneel on the floor.
You take a quick step back, hoping no one will see you. But this is ridiculous - they’re dangerous, and Big Mama knows it, but it’s just a game to her.
You’re about to sneak out - because forget this, honestly, you don’t get enough overtime to be worth it - when a loud crack splits the air. Whirling around, startled and on edge, because that can’t have been-
It was.
The fourth turtle grinned from the doorway, eyes flashing white against the nighttime background. His purple armor practically glowed with something otherworldly, humming in the air around him.
And in his arms, aimed towards the ceiling, was a shotgun.
Just for emphasis, and because your night can’t get any worse, he fires again. Knowing what to expect doesn’t help in the slightest - you jump half a foot in the air before he’s got it leveled at the room as a whole.
“I’m here for my brothers,” he announced, deadpan. His expression was bored, even flat-out annoyed, and yet there was a rigidity to the grip on the gun.
The monsters have guns. They know how to use the guns. You knew about the swords and sais and such, but still, that felt much less threatening at the time than a gun.
The silence of the room held for two, maybe three seconds. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, getting faster and faster.
If you were a betting person, you’d bet that someone is getting shot tonight.
“Donnie!” the blue one yelped out suddenly. When you glanced over, his expression was horrified. “You can’t use the shotgun!”
You pause, abruptly wrong-footed in the situation.
What?
“Leo, in case you haven’t noticed, you all were kidnapped,” Purple - Donnie, apparently - replied. A vein bulges on his forehead, visible through the mask. “This is by far the easiest retrieval method.”
“The gun is cheating, Donnie!” Orange exclaimed. His voice wobbled just a bit, barely noticeable, but you see all three shoot a glance towards him all the same.
Your teammates don’t even look at you when you go down, much less when you’re upset. It’s…unexpected to see it from the turtles.
“You’re my brothers, and she kidnapped you. The shotgun is the safest option.” The added ‘for you all’ isn’t spoken, but everyone can hear it regardless. Donnie hesitated for a second, about as exhausted as ever, except that was the moment Big Mama adjusted to walk forward.
With a casualness that screamed practice, the barrel swung to face her. She halted sharply in her tracks, eyes widening.
“Don’t worry, he won’t use it,” Leo called brightly, in the obnoxious tone you’d come to expect.
“I guarantee you I will,” Donnie countered blankly. When no reaction met those words, he smoothly pumped it and fired into the floor, just inches from Big Mama’s shoes. “And there’s a special kick in these shells I designed myself. You don’t want to test it, I promise you that much. I’ll be taking my brothers now, thank you.”
Big Mama opened her mouth, and shut it. Then she tried again, brow furrowed and clearly trying to get a read on the situation.
You don’t need her to do that. You’ve already read the writing on the wall, and it does not end with Big Mama getting four turtle champions to fight for her. And you really, really want to go home without a bullet in you tonight.
You didn’t get into this professional goon position for nothing. It isn’t hard, while Purple and Mama are having their stare-down, to kick the nunchuck free from the pile of weapons. It lands solidly against Orange’s leg, rolling to a stop.
Orange startled, eyes darting down and up again. You doggedly avoid eye contact, mostly because you don’t actually want to lose your job, but you see him grin ear to ear anyway.
The room erupts into chaos seconds later, incited by a turtle cutting through their chains. You put up a perfunctory fight, of course, but you’re not stupid - you know when to cut and run.
On the bright side, the purple turtle hasn’t actually shot anyone yet. He keeps taking aim, but as soon as he’s trying to pull the trigger his brothers begin yelling to quit it.
“We don't do murder!” Red barked loudly, over the din of battle. He shoved away his opponents - even if he was still somewhat out of it, his sheer size and determination carried him through.
“Scoff,” Donnie shot back. He spun abruptly and, with a crack audible across the room, slammed the butt of the gun into another goon’s head. They went down like a sack of potatoes. “You all might not do murder. Also, I can aim non-lethal, you know.”
It’s not a long battle. You’re on the floor with no plans to move until the turtles have made their escape. Big Mama is somewhere; not dead, since she’s far too good at what she does, but not nearly as unscathed as she expected.
And three of the four of the have been in two battles today. They’ve been tranquilizer and cut to pieces and injured. As they huddle together, a mix of arms and warmth and concern, you consider that it would be easy to track them now. To follow them to their hideout. You’re not nearly as injured as the rest of your crew, you could do it.
Just as Orange and Blue start to support Red, muttering about getting to some sort of tank, Purple glanced over. Just a brief flash, meeting your eyes.
There’s an oath of retribution, a promise of something much more dangerous than a shotgun. A warning against hurting his brothers. So, so many emotions, all glinting off purely white eyes.
You stay on the ground, as they leave.
Kidnapping the turtles was a bad idea.