So don't you squirm, don't you fret

I'm not gonna hurt you, yet

I just feel the need to be getting

A little of you, a lot of blood-letting

***

Raph's surroundings swim uncomfortably as the numb bliss of sleep leaves, and the first thing he notices is that there's a dull burning sensation in trails across his body. His muscles tense as the numb leaves and the pain becomes less hazy, and he can feel tight bandages across his arms and legs. Donnie must have fixed him up.

What did he get himself into this time?

He groans as he raises his head, squinting at the blinding light that's originating from directly above him, and then lets it sag back down, wondering where he is. The area slowly sorts itself out around him, and he notes he's in a colorless room with gray walls. There's all kind of gear and machines that he doesn't recognize, and then some that he does, like the centrifuge in the corner next to different colored serums and vials.

He blinks once. Twice.

And then he realizes that this looks like a horror movie's mad scientist lab.

His entire body jerks at the flush of fear, but it doesn't do more than that, and he quickly realizes why. He's laying flat on his carapace, metal shackles around his ankles and wrists, and a long leather bind wrapping around his plastron, evidently to keep him from going anywhere. His head is the only part of his body that's free, and he uses it to do an immediate scan of the lab, checking for the mad scientist that tied him down.

The lab is void of anyone but it's captive, and he twists his left wrist under the shackles, trying to see if there's any way to get it free. The experimental twisting turns into frustrated tugging that only proves to hurt, and he growls his frustration, raising his head enough to whack it back on the suspiciously comfortable surface. 

Now that adrenaline has a hold of him with no way for physical release, his mind runs a million miles a minute, attempting to piece together how he ended up here.

He was feeding Chompy... Noticed Don wasn't in the lab... Hunted him down... Emotions. Ick.

They went- they went to get pizza?

-There was a warehouse trap. And they walked right into it.

Mafia.

Donnie was hit and he pulled the stupidest move in the history of stupid moves.

He knocks the back of his head against the surface with more force, as if in punishment for his reckless idiocy, and then glares up at the roof, heart pounding as wonders what happened after he'd been knocked out. Donnie was alone, barely conscious, and he just left him! He just HAD to go after the mafia, didn't he? It's like he wanted Don to get grabbed! 

A growl breaks through the silence, a sliver of dread churning in the pit of his stomach. 

He was right. 

They should have stayed together. He shoulda just led them away.

Even drugged the nerd's smarter than him. 

He pictures his younger brother strapped down in a different room, currently occupying the missing mad scientist's time. It's their worst nightmare come to life. Donnie's bound to be scared out of his mind, probably about to be sliced open, and Raph's just sitting there like bump on a log. Completely useless.

He grits his teeth and resumes his earlier struggle, twisting and wrenching until each tug against the shackles begin digging into his skin. This only ignites his frustration into a boiling fury, dissipating the fear in his gut. He'll kill them. Vizioso, the scientists- every single lacky who thought it was a good idea to play capture-a-turtle! And if any of those mutant haters so much as thought about laying a hand on his little brother-

"Intriguing."

Raph jolts, raising his head to locate the source of the voice, and locks gazes with a blank-faced man with a lab coat and clipboard. Brown hair is unkept, piercing gray eyes meet his gaze with a distinct lack of any particular emotion, and there's a couple different knife-looking tools in a large coat pocket. 

An image of them being stabbing into his little brother flashes in his mind's eye, and he's already resolved to break that guy's nose the minute he can swing his fists.

The unnoticed visitor is unperturbed by the withering glare and bared teeth. "Don't stop on my account. Continue pulling on the restrains. I'm curious to see how long it takes for you to break your wrist."

The mad scientist says it simply, and nothing about his smooth tone hints that it's meant as sarcasm or a mocking jab. He's completely serious, patiently waiting for Raph to follow through. Who in their right mind wants something like that? He calls him like he sees them, and this guy is definitely mad scientist material.

Raph ceases all attempts of escape since this dude seems to be waiting for him to start again. "Where's my brother?"

His captor stares at him a moment more and then frowns, tapping the back of his pen on his clipboard as he moves over to one of the desks across the room. "Disappointing. But, I must have patience. There will be other chances to see how far he'll push."

Great. This guy's the kind of psycho that talks to himself. 

That's just his luck, isn't it? 

Shaking fists clench. "You heard me! The other turtle- where is he?"

Again, his question is blatantly ignored. "I swear, if you so much as poke him with one of your mad science tools-!"

"Relax, Raphael." His captor drawls as he scribbles something down on his clipboard, laying it on the desk. He doesn't even bother facing him, as if he has better things to do than have a conversation with his captive. "I didn't manage to get a hold of Donatello. As the story goes, he was with you, and then he wasn't. The retrievers were too incompetent to consider leaving men behind to wait for when the others showed up."

He knows their names. The mob never bothered learning anything about them before...

What else does he know?

He sneers at the turned back. "And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"I imagine my word means nothing." The mad scientist walks away from the table to cross to Raph's left side, and he cranes his neck to keep an eye on him. "But, really, I have no reason to lie to you."

There must be some kind of tray behind his head, because he hears him pick up an item with a soft clink, and then he turns to Raph, leaning over and getting waaaaay to far into his personal bubble.

"Hold still." 

It's a dumb command considering he can't move, and Raph gets a clear view of two larger-than-usual front teeth. Even amidst a flare of panic, a smug amusement stirs. Bet he hears about it a lot. No wonder he became a lacky under an loudmouth like Vizioso. 

He runs fingers over Raph's upper plastron, examining the area where shell meets skin, and he squirms uncomfortably with the unsolicited touch. "What are you doing? Personal space, man!"

"I need a bit of plastron."

"You what!?"

"Only a bit." He repeats, as if he's not discussing using the scalpel to slice off a piece of Raph.

"No! Nope! No way!" He resumes his struggles for escape, unashamedly more frantic this time.

"Calm down." His captor grumbles absently. "It shouldn't hurt much."

"How would you know!? I'm the resident mutant turtle!"

The mad scientist ignores him as he rests one hand on his bare plastron- wait, he has no gear on. It's like he's naked! This has to be messed up on so many levels- and there's a soft click. A light buzzing begins, and Raph realizes that the thing in his hand is actually some kind of miniature buzzsaw. 

"Wa-wha-WAIT-!" 

The blade comes in contact with the edges of the lightning bolt on his plastron. Raph can feel it sawing through the hard shell, nerve endings in his plastron screaming as the protection is forcefully removed.  He tries to pull away from the sensation, but he's kept still by the shackles. 

His assailant doesn't even seem to notice, cutting until the sharp blade skims over the skin underneath.

He clenches his jaw and turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood rushes in his ears, but he refuses to show any sign of discomfort or pain- owowowowow, stopstopstopit hurtshurtshurtshurts nohurtsstophurtdstophurtsowstoppleaseno-

"There." 

The saw goes quiet, and he slumps in relief, wet eyes flickering open. Sweaty hands slacken as he allows himself a moment to breath through the leftover throbs, dimly aware of the blood oozing from the invaded area. It pools up on the edge of the awkward curve that's left, leaking down his plastron as the scientist holds up the bloodied shell. 

Nausea washes over Raph when he lifts up a towel to wipe it off like one would clean a pair of glasses, calmly holding a piece of him in his hands.

I'm so gonna hurl...

The scientist examines the piece small enough to fit in his palm and nods to no one, turning his face out of Raph's view once more. Raph swallows the acid taste as he listens to the soft clicking from where his captor is possibly typing something out of his view. 

The silence stretches on like a warning, malicious and taunting all on its own. Raph hates how it burrows into the corners of his mind, quickening his pulse as he wonders what his captor's doing out of his view. He can't get his pounding heart to calm, unable to stand the pooling blood or the throbbing ache where his shell used to be- 

All he can imagine is him fiddling with an even bigger buzzsaw, and the swimming terror is corrupting him down to his core. 

He releases a trembling breath, and then he realizes that he also spoke, processing his own question as it cracks the silence. "S-so what exactly's the plan here?"

His voice is exactly as he needs it to be, frustrated and sarcastic, without only a hint of the panic that he has completely under control. "Am I bait- or is that going to be the first of my many pieces when you slice and dice me?"

"Do you really think I'd waste resources fixing you up if I was planned on dismembering you? Please." A sharp beep and then- Ooookay, the table is moving, it's moving, it's- not a table, definitely not a table, not panicking!

In the back of his mind's eye, he's back in Stockman's lab, watching with growing horror as the freakish bug approaches with a brain worm. He's going to put that thing in his brain- no, no, no, get it off- get it off- get it off-!

He's lying upright now, suddenly annoyed that he's shorter than his captor, along with practically everyone else they know, and lets that feeling push away the others. He's grateful that the mad scientist is distracted with cleaning the blood from the area of missing plastron and then putting a gauze pad over it. He presses on the adhesive tape to make sure it sticks before turning away. 

Evidently, the psycho does not want him bleeding out.

Raph doesn't pay attention to anything but the fact he can barely breathe, unable to do more than remind himself that he's in an entirely different bucket of trouble. He's not in Stockman's lab. There's no brain worm. No mind invasion at all. 

He's just- getting cut to pieces by a mad scientist. 

He can feel his breathing evening out, heart rate slowing as the adrenaline from the pain slowly dies away. He closes his eyes in exasperation because there is no reason why that should be comforting.

He jerks from his thoughts when the unwanted touch returns to unwrap his left arm. He glances over to the mildly curious scientist as he reveals red burns that twist around the limb like snakes, no doubt caused by the net.

The mad scientist studies them for a second before picking up his clipboard and scribbling something down. And then madman touches one with his pen, and the sting stabs a warning at Raph's brain. "Wha- ay!"

"That hurt?" A thoughtful glance. "One to ten, rate your pain."

"I'm going to help rate yours if you don't-" He cuts himself off with a strangled gasp as the mad scientist shifts the clipboard under his arm and presses down, the warmth of his hand setting all the sensitive nerves on edge. 

Raph's body jerks to the side on pure instinct, trying to get away from the sensation.

"Let go!"

"Rate your pain."

Raph grits his teeth as the feeling sends waves of pain up his arms, and he swears it's like his other burns are reacting to it. They're hot with the same agony that's eating away at his skin, digging deep into his flesh and trying to seer through every cell- stopstopstop- stupid scientist stupid burns stupidstupidstupid! 

"F-Four! Six! I- Something! Just- just let go!"

He does, and the pain doesn't immediately fade like Raph hoped it would. The burning shifts into a constant prickling sensation, like his arm fell asleep next to an intense heat, and he drops his head against the cushioned not-table, trying to breathe through the panic. "You- do that again, and I'll make sure- show you exactly what that feels like- when I get outta here."

"It's superficial." He informs him as if Raph is suppose to care. The next lines of thought are almost an afterthought, not directed for him at all. "I should look into the current. Truly frustrating. I thought that was figured out."

The nutjob goes back for his clipboard and- huh. Nutjob.

With the buck teeth, crazy hair, the absolute insanity- it's like nature messed up and stuck a squirrel in an ugly human body. Mikey was probably going to kill him for naming a villain, but he didn't get kidnapped, and Donnie got to name Newtralizer, so, really, Raph hadevery right.

Fair is fair.

That decided, he glares Nutjob down. "Alright fine! You don't want to chop me up. So- why the heck am I even here?!"

"Experimentation." He smirks in self-satisfaction. Looks like Nutjob actually has expressions other than jerk and bland. "I have a goal, and you're going to help me reach it."

"How about I break that clipboard over your skull and maybe we can talk about it." 

Whatever it is that he wants, he sure isn't getting it after all this.

"I don't need nor want your consent." He sets the clipboard down. "In fact, it would be prudent if you were to fight me every step of the way. I have a deadline, and the quicker you break, the more likely it is that I'll reach it."

"I don't break easy." He snarls because Nutjob is sounding nutter by the second.

"You might be surprised."

Okay, so that's ominous as all get out.

Raph's scoffs and turns his head away, not spooked in the slightest. His brothers will go looking for him and Donnie when they don't return with pizza. After they find Donnie, they'll find him, and he'll get his chance to knock the buck teeth straight from Nutjob's smug face. 

If, Nutjob's telling him the truth and Donnie really isn't strapped down somewhere.

His eyes stray back to Nutjob's position when hears him fiddling with something metal.

Nutjob appears back into his line of sight with a tray of objects, including an empty needle and a tourniquet. He sets them to the side, and Raph's heart jumps to his throat.

He knows what those mean. Donnie's done enough blood tests to check for viruses to make them easy to recognize- freaking sewer life. The needle seems unreasonably large, and he struggles against his binds, definitely not wanting his blood in the hands of a mad scientist. 

Especially not one who works for a group that hates all things mutant. 

"Don't! Don't touch me, you disgusting, squirrelly freak of nature-"

"Look in the mirror, turtle." Is the clipped response as he sets the needle down and wraps the tourniquet around his upper bicep. "Now relax or this is going to hurt far more than it has to."

"Let me go! Get this thing off me or I'm gonna-!"

"You're tied down and at my mercy," He tsks as he cleans off the area. "I really don't see the point in these constant threats."

"-knock your buckteeth out and cram them down your throat-"

"For a mutant that plays human, you are certainly barbaric." Nutjob finally stops, passing him an look that seems more amused than frightened, and then continues undaunted. "I suggest you at least attempt to relax the muscle."

Plays human? 

"I'm not going to be playing anything when I-!"

He lifts the needle and places a firm hand over his wrist. "I did warn you." 

"DON'T YOU DA-AAH!" 

Nutjob methodically stabs the needle into his arm. The pain is instantaneous, so much worse than Donnie's careful procedures, and he writhes as his other hand claws at the fabric underneath him. His limbs stretch and strain, torso kept relatively still under the grip of the leather strap. His vision blurs and spins; the scream kept in his brain as it frantically tries to process what's being inflicted.

His vision is blackening around the edges when he feels the sickening sensation of the needle slowly leaving the vein. His body slump when he's finally free of it, trembling and lightheaded as the restrains keep him straight, denying him the instinct to curl up and cradle the throbbing limb. He stares down at the floor as it comes in and out of focus.

Nutjob sets the needle down, his tone cocky as he unwraps the tourniquet.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" The expectant pause is met with silence. "Hopefully, you won't be so stubborn next time."

...Next time?

Raph wants to feel the familiar rage cursing through his body, but he only quivers and pants, trying to swallow the lump of fear in the back of his throat.

"Oh? No crude response?"

Now he's definitely mocking him.

His teeth grit as- yep, there it is- a new surge of anger overcomes the pain that threatens to reveal his weakness, and he raises his head to meet the cool gaze. 

His face being the only thing free, he works with what he has. Their gazes locked, he swiftly hacks up a loogie and fires it directly between Nutjob's eyes, earning a startled shriek as the scientist stumbles back, scrubbing his lab coat sleeve against his face.

Raph lets a shaky smirk cross his face, taking the previous satisfaction and making it his own. "How's- that?"

The scientist lowers his sleeve, face twisted and eyes burning. Raph juts up his chin, mocking smirk morphing into a prominent sneer. 

"Try me, Nutjob."