Chapter Text
Donnie knew that despite his original species being “soft-shelled” he was much tougher than the average turtle, not to mention the average human. Sure he couldn’t take a bullet to his shell the way Raph probably could but he rarely saw himself at a genetic disadvantage. Besides, his shell was still adequate protection and had the benefit of flexibility his brother’s shells did not share.
To be honest, his shell was an incredibly convenient and a fantastic choice of evolution to have armor built in, with his plastron having easily taken the brunt of any lab “mishaps” over the years.
Of course, nature is not as perfect as science. Truly it was a flaw in design that left the upper chest and neck uncovered and while he, like any good scientist, remembered to cover his face when dealing with his more... interesting experiments he often forgot about the six inch window between his face covering and his natural protection.
An oversight that could be quite problematic when certain things happened like perhaps a new prototype exploding into a glittering plethora of razor sharp shrapnel.
Oops.
Honestly, he mused, as he started to carefully collect the twisted shards of metal, he was remarkably lucky that nothing had hit that vulnerable six inches.
At least that’s what he had thought until he looked at the reflective stainless steel table and saw a glimpse of himself and, more importantly, the large pieces of shrapnel sticking out of his neck.
It took Donnie only ten minutes to slowly and carefully remove what ended up being nine pieces of twisted metal of varying sizes. Sterile tweezers pulled pieces of metal out, followed up with alcohol dipped cotton rounds to sterilize the wound.
It was a concerning experience, not because it was a slightly more serious injury, the bigger worry was that as he used tweezers to dig metal out of his skin he didn’t feel a thing. Not one twinge of pain.
That was… not ideal.
There was also not nearly enough blood for removing sharp metal shards that had been lodged over half an inch into his skin. In fact there was no blood at all. With the amount of nerves and vessels that traversed the neck, it was quite literally a preposterous reaction.
As he marveled at the lack of well, anything, the holes slowly closed, secondary wounds healing in less than a minute. Donnie blinked at his reflection in shock at the improbability of it all. Draxum’s ooze was good, sure, Donnie and his brothers had survived many things that they should not have (a fact Donnie avoided thinking about as much as possible) but it didn’t make them invincible. Something was up.
His mind immediately started flashing back to memories of the past week and when he was last hurt. He had his fair share of brotherly tackles and unfortunate yet comical stumbles but when was the last time he was HURT. It certainly hadn’t been in the last week.
A picture had started to form in his head and a hypothesis along with it. Before he got too far however he would need a bit more information. He snatched a puzzle cube off his desk and headed to get exactly that.
Leo didn’t bother to look up from his comic when Donnie entered his train car which was perfect for Donnie as he threw the puzzle cube full strength directly at his brother's big head.
“Hey! What the fuck Donnie?” Leo responded, automatically rubbing the spot where the cube hit.
“Oh please,” Donnie said, rolling his eyes. “You can’t tell me that that actually hurts.”
Leo stopped rubbing his head and sat up straight.
“Oh, so we are talking about this now.” Leo says and Donnie for not the first time is reminded that Leo paid more attention than he wanted to admit.
“Yes we are. How long have you known?”
Leo rubbed the back of his neck in that way that always signaled a bit of guilt. Donnie’s eyes narrowed and Leo looked away.
“I mean, how long have I known what exactly?”
“How long have you known that we aren’t currently capable of getting hurt?” Donnie pressed. Leo continued to avoid eye contact even as he answered Donnie’s question.
“Technically, I’ve only known that we are not getting hurt for like twenty seconds. I did realize I wasn’t getting hurt about four days ago though. Just wasn’t sure if it was the same for you guys.”
Honestly Donnie knew he shouldn’t be too surprised that Leo had been holding that u formation close to his chest. After the invasion Leo had become a little too fond of secrets in Donnie’s opinion. However, there were bigger concerns so Leo’s new love of secrecy would have to wait.
“Do you think the others have noticed?”
Leo shook his head. “Nah, I mean Mikey probably would have said something by now and you know how Raph can be about noticing stuff.”
Very true, it had once taken Raph two weeks to notice that Mikey had painted half of Raph's shell bright orange.
“So any theories, Mr. Genius?” Leo picked up the puzzle cube and started idly solving it.
“Hmm I mean we’ve always been hardier than most. It’s possible that this attribute strengthened over time but I don’t understand why it would start now.” There was a pause and Donnie knew they were thinking the same thing. Why get this now when everything is fine instead of months ago when they were nearly killed.
Donnie didn't want to admit it but if they wanted more information there was only one place to go.
“We are going to have to ask Draxum.”
“I mean do we haaaaave to?” Leo asked, dragging out the word and slumping down, the perfect image of a broody teenager. “Can’t we just accept we have a cool new upgrade?”
“I just pulled inch-long shrapnel out of my neck and I didn’t even bleed.”
Leo shot up at that.
“Okay so we need to ask Draxum”
“Should we tell Raph and Mikey as well?”
“Probably but-” Donnie didn’t get to hear Leo finish that sentence because at that exact moment a scream echoed through the lair and both he and Leo were running, conversation forgotten.
—
Raph just wanted to go to bed. The combined workout of getting beat up by scouts follorwed by getting multiple neck wounds left him tired and just not up to keeping up the act of feeling great around his brothers.
But Mikey looked up at him with bright eyes and a look of joy on his face that has been less and less common post Krang. So Raph shook it off and followed Mikey into his train car.
“Okay, okay check this out,” Mikey said, bouncing his way over to a canvas leaned against the wall, a brush and paint palette perfectly positioned in front of it.
Irritation surfaced easily, Raph was happy that Mikey was painting again of course he was but that didn’t change the fact that Raph was tired and just wanted to go to bed. It was like his head was filled with tv static and Mikey was the just barely audible late night news man’s voice breaking through.
“Can we make this quick, Mikey? I’m tired,” Raph grumbled, the desire to just get some fucking sleep so strong that he didn’t even bother to fake energy for Mikey’s sake. It didn’t seem to matter though, Mikey was too excited to either notice or care about Raph’s annoyance
“Yeah, yeah, okay check this out!” Mikey said before plopping himself onto the ground a good ten feet away from the canvas and the paints.
Raph got a sudden feeling of dread, creeping up around his neck like it would choke him.
Slowly but steadily the paintbrush floated into the air.
And Raph’s world exploded into pain.
He didn’t scream out or fall like he wanted to, he stayed upright face in a solid grimace barely able to think over the pain as the paintbrush danced over the canvas leaving behind a streak of red.
At that moment it finally clicked. The pain he had been feeling that he couldn’t explain was Mikey’s this whole time. Mikey’s mystics that had always torn his little brother apart whenever he pushed himself too much.
When Mikey turned around he tried to hide his grimace with a fake smile but judging by the look on Mikey’s face it wasn't exactly working.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing it’s really cool Mikey, but maybe that’s a little advanced?”
Mikey’s brow furrowed.
“You always do this, Raph! I’m not a baby! I’m capable! I can do this, why can’t you just be happy for me.”
Raph was stuck, there was no winning that conversation.
“Look I’ll show you.”
The brush rose again and Raph could barely see as the pain took over all of his senses. He watched only semi aware through the pain as the brush dipped itself in the paint again and made moves across the canvas continuing its merry dance until what’s left is a simplistic (for Mikey at least) flower.
The brush dropped. So did Raph.
The last thing he saw before he fell to the ground was a horrified expression on Mikey’s face, and then, nothing.