The first thing Michelangelo became aware of was the light on the other side of his eyelids, but it didn't register immediately. He didn't want to open them; they were heavy, and he was tired. There was something cool against his back, uncomfortably hard, and he shifted to get into a better position.
Except he couldn't shift. He could barely move.
Mike's eyes snapped open, only to squint against the harsh light above him. He pulled against the restraints around his arm, his legs, his chest--nothing. Then, there was a glint of something out of the corner of his eye, and Mike turned his head. Medical instruments, some of them familiar.
He noticed the doctor right after that, and turned to stare at him, eyes widening.
Shell, Shell, Shell-- Mike shut the panic down a moment later, focusing on his breath for a moment. Had to keep his cool. Had to stay in control. He couldn't give the guy one damn bit of information, not that anything he knew would be useful. It was more the principle of it, really. If they were going to torture him,
( ... )
That little moment of fear was perfect, exactly what he'd been hoping for and something that couldn't be erased by the subject's words of the way he tried to hide what had been clear on his face in the brief moment. The doctor smiled and approached the table, leaning against the edge of it almost like they were friends talking instead of doctor and patient.
"I thought it might make you more comfortable, revisiting old memories. Better times before everything changed. You must miss it a little." His tone was light, amicable, though his eyes focused on the subject's face for any changes, any flicker that might give away more than Mike cared to admit.
"And you must also miss other things, here," he continued after a moment. "How have you been finding your new body? Not too difficult to adapt, is it?"
Mike didn't reply at first, instead narrowing his eyes as the doctor spoke of "better times". How much did this man know about him? How could he know about him? That was forever ago, another life, and Mike never spoke about it to anyone. Did they have telepaths?
They almost had to, if they had Raph or the Raph look-alike. Unless, somehow, Raph had been there previously and "cured". But that really wasn't at the top of Mike's List of Concerns at the moment. He was a bit more concerned about his captor at the moment.
"Been doing okay, yeah," Mike answered coolly. "If you let me go, I'll let you see how well."
"I'm afraid that's not going to happen," the doctor answered, smiling faintly. "We have work to do, Michelangelo, and we've put things off for long enough as it is."
He moved away, letting the significance of the name sink in as he busied himself with setting out several vials of a green, viscous liquid that seemed to catch the light strangely, looking almost like it was emitting its own eerie glow.
"It's a curious substance, isn't it?" he remarked as he worked. Answers didn't matter; let the subject think the doctor foolish for babbling his plans to the open air. There was no advantage to be had from anything the doctor would say; Mike wasn't going to be leaving this room easily.
Comments 16
Except he couldn't shift. He could barely move.
Mike's eyes snapped open, only to squint against the harsh light above him. He pulled against the restraints around his arm, his legs, his chest--nothing. Then, there was a glint of something out of the corner of his eye, and Mike turned his head. Medical instruments, some of them familiar.
He noticed the doctor right after that, and turned to stare at him, eyes widening.
Shell, Shell, Shell-- Mike shut the panic down a moment later, focusing on his breath for a moment. Had to keep his cool. Had to stay in control. He couldn't give the guy one damn bit of information, not that anything he knew would be useful. It was more the principle of it, really. If they were going to torture him, ( ... )
Reply
"I thought it might make you more comfortable, revisiting old memories. Better times before everything changed. You must miss it a little." His tone was light, amicable, though his eyes focused on the subject's face for any changes, any flicker that might give away more than Mike cared to admit.
"And you must also miss other things, here," he continued after a moment. "How have you been finding your new body? Not too difficult to adapt, is it?"
Reply
They almost had to, if they had Raph or the Raph look-alike. Unless, somehow, Raph had been there previously and "cured". But that really wasn't at the top of Mike's List of Concerns at the moment. He was a bit more concerned about his captor at the moment.
"Been doing okay, yeah," Mike answered coolly. "If you let me go, I'll let you see how well."
Reply
He moved away, letting the significance of the name sink in as he busied himself with setting out several vials of a green, viscous liquid that seemed to catch the light strangely, looking almost like it was emitting its own eerie glow.
"It's a curious substance, isn't it?" he remarked as he worked. Answers didn't matter; let the subject think the doctor foolish for babbling his plans to the open air. There was no advantage to be had from anything the doctor would say; Mike wasn't going to be leaving this room easily.
"Difficult to obtain, but well worth the effort."
Reply
Leave a comment