Prologue

He clenches his eyes and right fist, left pushed against a violently trembling forehead, muscles shaking; trying to block everything out.

Having a photographic memory is all too often a curse, rather than the gift that his...friend...paints it out to be.

"Don...Is that you?"

"..."

"..Stay...STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

(no, he can't let them see the animal - the monster - that he's become, that he failed to stop)

Dully, he comes to in a brick-walled room with a giant arm blocking his sight from the beam glaring into his eye-the arm that he suddenly recognizes again as his.

He growls in warning, and the lady turns to run, clever girl. But the teenager - with an apparent death wish - stays behind, in a sort of stupefied shock,

"Wow…"

(please...please don't-!)

A white-washed room flashes through his mind, darkened glasses hovering above his face, Bishop wielding a scalpel and sharp tongs. "What a fascinating specimen."

He roars at the human, who isn't running fast enough.

"Run, April, RUN!"

(A...April? Cas..ey...? Nnngh~)

He leaps at the human, bounding on all fours, and grabs onto his leg.

PREY! He tugs at the leg, determined to take part of the foolish two-legger with him.

Angry green eyes flash. "Let him go!"

A surprisingly powerful smack front the broom she wields causes him to slip back down the stairs, palms smacking against the steps.

"He's crazy!"... "TALK to him?! Are you nuts?! He's a freaking savage MONSTER and you just whacked him over the face with a BROOM!"

HE...don't...HATES THAT! ALL HUMANS HATE MUTANTS!

…"Easy Pal...We're still buds, right?"

Says the male, still stubbornly clenching onto the broom as if it will save him.

(wait...Casey?...No,...no, all wrong...I don't like fighting...~)

A flash of Casey thrown straight through the table, legs collapsing, wood splinters flying everywhere...

"Don, NO!"Pleading eyes begging him to stop.

...

"Whoa, more freaky monsters?! Didn't you hear what the lady said?!"

...

"What the shell is that?!"

Brothers attacking from all sides...Confusion...Loss...He turns to run, fleeing through their hole in the wall as they charge behind with guns pointed at his back.

...

"Oh, ugly mutated version of my beloved brother Donatello! Where aaareee you?"

(nO, MiKeY! I'M NOT-NOT SAFE-PREY!)

"I'm really sorry about this, Donnie!"... "Do not hurt him!"... "Not gonna be a problem!"...

NO! CAGED! NO!

All of them...looking at him...sadly…

(no...no, I'm sorry, no...)

"My son…"..."I know what it's like...to be a monster…"..."Poor Donnie…"

Head bowed, he struggles not to break down, but soon collapses to his knees in the otherwise-isolated garage, wrench and screwdriver clattering to the floor under the Shellraiser as he brings his hands up to cover his quickly-soaked face.

"What have I become…"

Hi, guys! This fanfic is based on the 2012 idea that "mutation is all or nothing."; If Donnie had really been de-mutated at all, he would've turned back into his turtle form. Now, obviously to me, this story is gonna have a lot more angst than that, so stay tuned and let me know your thoughts!

P.S.~ It might not be obvious, but the bold is more for his multi-mutated side, rather than the usual turtle in purple.