Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Raph woke up. 

And he didn’t know where he was. 

Raph blinked, feelings weirdly heavy. He blinked a couple more times, trying to clear the spots from his vision. 

And he was met with a…reddish looking wall? Raph blinked again, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet. 

Yeah. There was reddish (cherry? Raph didn’t know anything about colors, that was more of Mikey’s thing) wall. Looking around Raph noticed he was surrounded by red cherry looking walls. It was a little pinkish now that he was really looking about it. He couldn’t see through it and the floors and ceilings were reddish pinkish cherry-ish too. 

A box. 

Okay, Raph. He looked around, trying to squash down the panic. There was no else in the box. It was just…him. 

This is fine. This is fine. This is—

Raph breathed and breathed and breathed—

This is fine, he was alone and this was fine—he wasn’t panicking h-he wasn’t—

Raph swallowed thickly and moved to feel the walls. Solid. Reddish. Pinkish. Whatever. Raph drew his fist back and punched. 

He yelped and flinched back. The wall sparked where he’d punched it. It hurt. He breathed and tried again. (Punching always fixed things.) 

It sparked again and Raph suppressed another yelp, and shook out his hand. It hurt. He glared at the wall and decided that… maayyybbe punching it wasn’t the best idea. 

Raph hesitantly reached a hand out to touch it, he paused though. It didn’t hurt him…before he punched it. 

So Raph touched the wall. It didn’t hurt. It was cold, sorta. Like a normal wall but Raph could feel something that felt like electricity. A little buzz, like one of Don’s inventions or Mikey’s and Leo’s mystic weapons or…

Raph’s brows furrowed and he rubbed the palm of his hand. His brothers…

How did he get here again? 

Raph frowned and thought back.

There was some kind of villain attack at some almost closed down vintage place. It was outta the way but Raph needed to go check it out anyway. It was another heist in a long string of them, a whole lotta crimes all stacked up on one another. 

His little brothers didn’t want to go, they were tired and all that. It was almost everyday there was something new. A jewelry stealing. Thug shake downs and wallet snatching. Someone breaking into some super high tech vault thing. Raph and his bros went to every single one of them. Stopping the crimes and returning the stuff. 

Leo thought it weird that there were so many. Raph had brushed him off because well…Leo never was all that excited to stop crimes anyway. Not so many at least. 

Maybe Raph should’ve listened to his bros. 

All his bros were tired. There were so many robberies, for at least two weeks at that point. Every day, sometimes multiple times a day. Raph was tired too but he had to be a hero. He had to save people. It’s what good guys do. 

So when the alarm went off, Raph let his bros stay behind. They deserved it. Raph had a responsibility and he was gonna go save the day. 

Raph went and everything went wrong so quickly. They were emptying out the whole vintage shop place. And there were so many of them too. Raph tried but he was so tired and there were so many. He made too many mistakes. 

Then one of them threw a weird glowy powder in his face and Raph suddenly felt very dizzy and now….

He…he was here. In the pinkish red buzzing box. 

Okay. Okay, that…wasn’t good. Raph shook his head, trying to get outta the memory. This was bad. Really, really bad. 

What happened to his bros? They weren’t with him when the powder hit. They were at home. Chilling. And-and now…

And now what…

Raph didn’t know what to do. 

Raph frowned and thought about it. Thinking wasn’t his strong suit, that was all Dee’s thing but…but Raph could think if he tried. So, he thought. 

What could he do? What could he do? What could he do? 

He couldn’t punch the walls. That hurt a lot when he did that. Maybe the floor..? Yeah! Maybe punching the floor would work! 

So Raph reared back. 

And punched the floor. 

ZzztttkCCHTZzz…zzz—

Raph yelped again and stuttered back, holding his fist close. That hurt. The floor sparked like the wall had and Raph rubbed over the hurt spot. 

This was bad. If the walls were punch proof and the floors were punch proof and the ceilings…wait…were the ceilings punch proof…? 

…

Raph quickly realized he couldn’t reach the ceiling. He could try jumping and punching, he could definitely do that(physically at least) but…

Raph glanced at the floor, the sparking was gone and his fist didn’t hurt so much anymore but…

Maybe he wasn’t going to try and punch the ceiling. 

What was it made out of? It kinda looked like glass or…snow? It was all…sparkly…like a…crystal? This was weird. The red sorta reminded him of his mystic weapon and—

Oh! OH! How could he forget? His mystic weapon! That would get him outta this mess. (And back to his brothers, he needed to get back to his brothers.)

Raph reached for his tonfas but—

They weren’t there. 

He—he— no— that—

“No, no, no, no, no, no, come on Raph—can’t be, can’t be that bad—y-you just misplaced them, that’s all,” He muttered to himself. “That’s all, that’s—” 

Raph gave himself a pat down and realized with a sinking feeling that…that he didn’t have… any of his stuff with him. Everything was gone. 

The wraps around his hands. Gone. His belt. Gone. His mask? Gone. 

Raph swallowed thickly, breathing hard. This was bad. This was bad. This was really, really bad. 

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic—

Raph tried to keep his breathing under control as he paced. 

Raph was kidnapped, he didn’t know where he was. He didn't know how to get out. His stuff was gone. Everything was gone. 

Did his brothers even know he was gone? How long was he passed out for? Was there a way out of the box or was he stuff here forever? How was he gonna pee? How was he gonna eat? Was he gonna starve???????

Breath Raph— this is fine—super fine—he–he— oh god—

How was he gonna get out? How was he gonna get back to his brothers? Were they safe? Did they get kidnapped too? Oh no—they got kidnapped too—!

Raph shook his hands out, tail lashing behind him. No, no, no, no. Raph mentally chidded himself. They weren’t kidnapped. They couldn’t have been. They weren’t with Raph when he got kidnapped. So, so, so—

They were fine? Right? Right???

They had to be fine, they had to be fine, they–they had to be—or, or Raph—Raph didn’t know if—

Raph paced the length of the box, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and—

Breath Raph. He tried. Just– just breath. 

  This is fine. This is fine, this is fine, this just fine—

He was gonna get out of this. He was. He—he had to. He had to get back to his brothers.

It’s fine. He—he was just alone . Alone in a reddish pinkish cherry-ish sparkly glass but not see through glass box and he didn’t know how to get out. 

Fine. This was fine—

Raph squeezed his eyes shut and kept whispering: “ It’s fine, it’s fine. I’M fine, Raph’s fine. Raph’ll get out and get back to my brothers, make sure they aren’t kidnapped and…and—” 

Raph breathed and tried to calm down.

It didn’t work very well.

(::) 

Somewhere deep in the sewers of New York, three mutant turtle teens lounged, sometimes on bean bags, sometimes not. Snacks were gathered and drinks were prepared. It was a movie night. At least that’s what it was supposed to be.

“Should we wait for Raph to start the movie?” The orange themed turtle asked, in his arms was a large bowl of popcorn, loaded with browned sugar and butter. “I mean…it’s been hours,” 

The goggled turtle gasped dramatically, saying the literal word gasp along with it. “Angelo—how could you? Jupiter Jim night is sacred and you want to start it without our dear Raphael?” 

The third, a red eared slider mutant, made a face. “Well…he’s got a point,” He checked his phone. “It's been…four…hours? Geez, what’s taking the guy so long?” 

“Um…maybe he got held up in traffic?” The orange one supplied, eyes large. He set the bowl down. Twisting bowl around a little to some unknown standard. 

“...did Raph take the Tank Dee?” 

The purple turtle frowned, sharpie eyebrows furrowing. “No…he did not,” 

“..oh…then…maybe there were just extra bad guys to punch?” 

“Maybe…” 

The three of them stood, pondering what their eldest brother could possibly be doing that was taking so long. 

“Do heist missions normally take this long?” The blue themed slider asked. “Cause, I could’ve sworn we were always out in thirty minutes,” 

“We were…” The tech ladened soft shell mumbled, confusion coating his words. “This is…very unusual,” 

There a beat, then two, then three, before: 

“Ehhh, I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll call if he needs backup or something. I bet there was just another shady activity going on, you know how he is with those,” The blue turtle smiled wide and waved a dismissive hand. 

“Hm..right,” The purple one said noncommittally. 

“Raph’ll be back soon…right?” The youngest asked, tone vulnerable. 

The slider’s smile widened and he threw an arm around the smallest of the three. The orange one leaned into the touch. “‘Course Mikey, Raph can handle anything, remember? If he doesn’t show up in tenish minutes then we’ll shoot him a text or something,” 

The box turtle frowned and still looked unsure. “I think I’ll text him right now, just to check in and stuff. He does that with us,” He pulled out his phone and started right on that. 

The blue turtle looked over the orange one’s shoulder, eyes lingering on the texts sent. 

“He’ll be okay Mikey, he’s our big bro. He just got caught up in something. You know how he is with hero-ing,” 

The orange spotted turtle sighed softly and nodded, slipping the phone away but he smiled. “Yeah…I know, it’s just…” He sighed again. “Sorry, let’s just start the movie,” 

The striped turtle hummed and walked to pick up the remote. Glancing at the youngest of their trio. 

They started up the movie and they all had to wonder…

What was taking Raph so long? 

(::) 

Somewhere, deep, deep underground, under New York city and out from the urban area of the yokai metropolis. In a place that reeked of yokai wealth, mystics and pride. 

In room choking with wards and sigils and runic arrays. With tables filled with supplies and instruments and beakers and little splices of biological material and diagrams and thought experiments and so, so many bones. Fossils, things of worlds gone and times past. 

In the center of that room was a box. Somehow floating a foot or so off the ground, but sitting grounded as if it were on the meticulously clean and marbled ground itself. A mystic cage.

Perfectly square on every side, raspberry pink and impenetrable if you didn’t have the key. Opaque, until desired otherwise.

Inside that cage was a turtle. With a spiked tail and barbed shell. Young in the face and trembling from head to toe. Muttering to himself. Trying not to lose himself and stay present enough to find a way to escape. 

Raph.

Sat in the box.

And tried not to cry. 

Chapter Text

Raph had…calmed down. 

Sorta.

He’s not sure how long it's been but…but it had to have been at least an hour…maybe two. He didn’t know. 

Raph was in the corner of the box. He…felt better knowing there were two walls just to the side of him instead of none…like there had been when he was in the middle of the box.

Raph breathed slowly and deeply, all that stuff. It helped. Kinda. Sorta. It…

He kept trying to think of a way out but all his plans always involved some kind of punching and whenever he did it kinda really hurt and it didn’t do anything to the floors and walls and…well…he hadn’t tried punching the ceiling but he’d long decided it would be the same as everything else. Weird buzzing and fist hurting and all that.

So Raph sat there. Thinking and trying not to panic. 

He wondered when his brothers would notice he was missing and then…what they would do? Donnie would do some sciencey thing and find out who turtle-napped him and then Mikey would razz his tazz and then Leo would portal them all home and…

…and then they would watch Jupiter Jim. It was movie night. Raph knew that but…

Raph wasn’t there. He wasn’t…

He couldn’t get out. He felt so useless. Raph could punch things, he was really, really good at that but this..? He couldn’t punch the walls. He couldn’t punch the people that kidnapped him. He couldn't do anything. 

He was stuck.

He hated it. He hated the feeling of not knowing how he got here. Who kidnapped him and what they wanted. If…if they somehow got his brothers too. 

No. He reminded himself. They didn’t get his bros. His bros were safe. They were safe, they were safe, they had to be. 

Raph steadied his breathing and focused on massaging his palm. He glanced around, and was met with the same pinkish, reddish walls. 

He wondered if they would change. 

They did but it took longer than he wanted them too.

—||—

Raph was still sitting in the corner of the box when the walls rippled. 

Raph jumped and scrambled away, stumbling back into the center of the cube. He glanced around nervously and watched as the walls turned all see through. He could look out now, everything had a pinkish reddish tint but he could still see out. 

He looked around, half desperate. He noticed there were a lot of tables, filled with lots of stuff Raph could probably name if he took the time too. (There were bones too, all kinds that Raph definitely couldn’t name if he took the time to.) 

He finally saw another person as he spun around, his tail moving with him. 

It was…an..otter? Thing? Brown and creamish fur. Long, silvery whiskers. Large, wet black eyes. It was dressed in a lab coat and a stylized shirt was tucked in black, baggy pants. The feet that poked out from the pants were scaly and sharp, with hooked claws ending each digit, looking shiny and gold. The hands were a similar story. Sharp, small, hooked claws. Painted gold. 

Raph noticed its otter-y tail was really long, with beads and little badangles all along it. Raph wasn’t sure but it might’ve been around his bros’ height. Leo, Donnie range. Though it was hard to tell from where he was. 

The otter yokai(?) was looking at him. It had a clipboard looking thing. It looked up at him, face not showing anything. 

Raph narrowed his eyes. 

“Hello,” It said flatly. “Personally I’d like for this not to take too long. As much as I would love for this project to stretch for as long as its able, it’s my wife’s Emergence Day in a couple weeks and everything took a little longer than I expected to,” 

Raph blinked, feeling very off balance. “..uh…wh…huh?” 

The otter glanced up at him. “All I’m saying is I might have to rush some things. It shouldn’t affect the end product but it might be more stressful on you…er…what was your name again? Phillus never mentioned a name,”

…who the shell was Phillus?

Raph opened his mouth but then paused. This was a bad guy that kidnapped him. He wasn't gonna tell them his name. 

“Raph ain't telling you his name!” 

The otter…raised an eyebrow? And looked vaguely amused. “Raph it is then,” 

Raph’s brain stalled for half a second. “Wait—no! That’s not—uggghhh—” He fumbled for a second. “Why’d you kidnap me?!” 

The otter glanced at him, only half interested. “ I didn't kidnap you. I hired Phillus to do that,” 

“Wh—who’s Phillus?!” Raph demanded, palms sweating. This was bad. Really, really bad. (At least he knew who kidnapped him.) And…wasn’t there more than one guy? There was a whole group of them. That’s what he remembered anyway.

The otter sighed, sounding more and more done with the conversation. “A hired hand,” The otter looked over the clip board thing again. “Look, Raph was it? I don’t have time for useless questions. I’ll give you two more, because I’ve been told I need to explain things before they happen. And then I’ll start with the blood coaxing,” 

Raph paled. “..b-blood coaxing…what’s…what’s that?” 

The otter leveled him with a look and Raph’s stomach flipped. “It's a form of vitalopathy whose main use is to gain access to the mystic core. Good for finding magicks clots and…other things,” 

Raph felt a little dizzy and he was breathing a little too fast. The words were going in and over his head but regardless that did not sound good.

His mind desperately dragged itself over the words. Trying to figure out what they meant and, and what blood coaxing was. 

“You…uh…” Raph’s mind scrambled for something to say. Something to help him get outta here. “Why?” 

The otter paused for a second. Whiskers twitching. “Why what?” 

“Why uh…” Everything. Why did you kidnap me? What do you want? Why me specifically? Why? Why? Why? Raph couldn’t choose just one, he…

“Why’d you kidnap me?” He settled on, because..because it seemed like a good start at least. 

The otter hummed for a brief moment, looking up at. Its (his?) black eyes slick from the lights in the room. “You were the first one that was alone and reachable. Though I suppose the smaller one wouldn’t have been bad…” The otter spoke quieter towards the end but Raph still heard it. 

He straightened, breath coming in sharp. “You–you were gonna take Mikey?” 

The otter glanced up. “I personally didn’t care which one Phillus grabbed as long as he grabbed one of you,” 

“But–but why me?” Raph asked desperately, hands shaking. “Why us? Can’t you let me go? It’s—I–I have to get back to my brothers. They’re…they’re real bozos when it comes to safety ‘n stuff. L-Leo once set the toaster on fire and–and Mikey tries to eat rocks all the time and-and—” 

The otter continued to look disinterested. “Yes, yes and I have a wife to please. So if you could make this easier it would be much appreciated,” He turned and walked towards one of the tables. 

“W-wait—couldn’t you just–uh, let me go? Please?” He asked again, wringing his hands and sweating bullets. His stomach was twisting itself into knots and Raph was really starting to worry. 

“No,” The otter said simply. He picked some fancy looking knife and Raph’s eyes snapped towards it. He examined it for a moment before putting it down. Raph couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. (Hopefully he didn’t pick up the knife again.) 

“Now…do you want to do this the easy way or the simple way?” 

Raph’s lungs were shaking and he swallowed thickly. “...e-easy?” Raph paused and then frowned, trying to be angry instead of scared. “No! No easy or-or simple way—you have ‘ta let me go!” 

“No I don’t,” The otter replied, sounding bored. “Easy way it is,” 

Raph stood, tail cowed around his legs. “No! Let. Me GO! I have to get back to my brothers!” 

The otter did a motion with his oil black eyes that looked an awful lot like he was rolling them. “And I ,” He said, voice dipping into condescending. “Have a wife to please, now would you please shut up,” 

“N-no you—” 

The otter then knocked on the box twice and soon after the walls of the box started glowing. 

What was happening? What was—

Suddenly—there was a pressure on Raph’s brain, he blinked and tried to clear his head. It was like brain fog but ten times worse. He shook his head and groaned. Mind slowly down and all of his thoughts jumbling together. 

He—

What—

Raph blinked, swayed and promptly crumpled to the ground. A whine building in his throat. 

What was happening? He–he didn’t like it—he….

Raph’s eyes drifted shut.

And he was still shaking.

Chapter Text

Raph blinked awake, groaning softly. 

He saw a blurry figure above and Raph had to squint. It took a second but his vision cleared and Raph jerked when he remembered. ( The otter.)

But the jerk didn’t do anything. 

Raph’s breath caught and he noticed that he was bound to a table. It was built to comfortably support his shell, tail and neck but it wasn’t comfortable for much else. 

The air in Raph’s lungs snagged on something sharp and he clenched his fist and tried to get out. It didn’t work. Why wasn’t it working—

The otter worked quietly and Raph tried to get out again. 

“It’s not going to work,” Came the bored voice of the otter. Every time he picked something else his little hooked claws clinked loudly and Raph struggled harder. 

“... Lemme… go,” Raph pushed the words out and they scrapped against the roof of his mouth. He cringed and tried to tug his wrists free.

He couldn’t see the otter’s face but Raph could guess he looked bored. 

“No,” The otter said simply. He was mixing something, by the sounds of…what was it called? A mortar and…pestle? Mikey had one of those things. The otter grabbed a handful of white flowers from a box and dropped them into whatever he was mixing. 

Raph could hear him grinding it all together.

Raph growled under his breath and kept struggling. (It was scary that he couldn’t get out, with all his strength and spikeyness. He couldn’t get out, he couldn’t— ) 

He kept struggling and minutes passed. The otter kept mixing things together. Some glowley flakes. More flowers. An egg shaped crystal. The otter crushed it all with his pestle(?) and would occasionally dribble a dark liquid that smelled like metal and made the snapper’s stomach churn.

Eventually Raph slowed to a stopped, not because he was giving up but because nothing seemed to be happening. (And he could feel it chafing against his wrists, it wasn’t budging and his efforts weren’t doing anything.) 

Raph watched the otter work from the back and he couldn’t help but be curious. (Maybe he also wanted to know what he was doing, what he was gonna do to Raph. Maybe that was a part of it too.) 

“...uh..what..what’re you doing?” Raph asked, feeling a little stupid for asking. 

“Blood coaxing, I already told you this,” The otter mashed more things together.

“Uh…” Raph frowned, struggling lightly for a second before he stopped again. It was the principle of the thing. “...what’s the…um…” He listened for a second. “..paste?” 

The otter paused and Raph got the feeling he was annoyed. “..Thornmilk briar mostly. Umber mucilage, aether mallow, and your blood. Among other things,” The otter dully explained, like he had infinitely better things to be doing then explaining what he was doing. 

Raph’s mouth went dry. “..my… my blood?” 

The otter finished up whatever he was doing and set the pestle to the side. “Yes, your blood,” 

“How…how’d you get my blood?” 

The otter gathered the paste up into a shallow dish and picked up a freaky looking knife as well, balancing it on the rim of the dish. The knife itself, from what Raph had seen, bowed backwards and had a hole carved out in the base. It looked like a movie prop. (Raph didn’t like the look of it.)

The otter looked utterly unimpressed. “With a needle, my Titan— how dense are you?” 

“Uh…” Raph frowned, his gut sinking. “..um…” 

The otter shook his head, muttering something under his breath. He placed the shallow dish on a side table and he picked up the knife. Raph tensed and started struggling again. 

“Uh—do, do you really need that?” Raph tried, looking nervously as the otter brought the blade closer. 

The otter didn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” 

Raph couldn’t get another word out before the otter cut a shallow line that ran the length of his collar bone, Raph tried to move his head in the way but the otter just held his head, his painted claws digging harshly into scalp. He was stronger than he looked. Raph wiggled but the otter just held his head down harder. 

The cuts didn't hurt too much but Raph still struggled against it. (He could feel the dull piece of otters claws, if he pressed any harder it would draw blood. If it wasn’t welling up already.)

The otter continued to cut a much shorter line in the middle, at the point here his collar bones meet each other. Raph swallowed and tried not to watch his own blood bead up and fall. He wiggled but again, it didn’t do much.

The otter inspected the lines before he nodded to himself. Satisfied. The yokai continued to hold Raph’s head back and then, using the flat end of the knife, scrapped up a generous amount of the paste and smeared it all along the cuts. Eyeing it attentively the whole way.

The otter released Raph’s head and stepped back, watching carefully. 

At first it was just cold. Raph grunted as he tried to move. It smelled really strongly of plants and something metallic. (Was that his blood? It…it probably was. Didn’t he say something about it being his blood? He…he really didn’t want to think about that. He really, really didn’t want it to be his blood.) 

Then coldness seeped deeper and deeper and Raph inhaled sharply. He couldn’t even feel the slight burn from the cuts. 

There was a scrabbling in his chest, it was hot and the paste was cold. It was electric, vibrating and thrashing. The cold kept going deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper—

Raph gasped and shook. 

Something was pulling. It felt like something was pulling something straight out of his lungs. Like it was yanking something out of his chest and little desperate strands clung to his ribs as something yanked and pulled and knotted and tugged and removed with no care whatsoever and—

Raph tried to breathe, he tried, he really, really did but—

All he could think was, no, no, no, no—oh god—p-please stop—he—

Raph trembled and shook and tried to stop what was pulling, what was—

Then there was pop. 

Raph froze, eyes going wide. 

“There we go,” A voice said above him, voice flat and bored. Monotone. “Now let’s see what we’re working with,” 

His mouth quivered and the cold had pulled something out, something very precious and very warm. Everything started getting blurry and Raph couldn’t breath, he couldn’t—

“Adequately sized, all things considered…but by the way you used those mystic weapons of your’s I was hoping for something larger…” There was a blurry figure above him, it moved around and all Raph could do was let out a small whimper. 

(There was a ball of light above his chest, bright red and casting a glow over everything within a foot or so. It was warm and everything was so cold.)

He felt so empty. 

He could feel tears gathering in his eyes and he desperately wanted it back. He wanted the warmth back, please, please give it back—

“...that’s peculiar, why are you…?” The brown and white figure moved again and Raph’s vision was turning to static. The figure looked to the side for a moment but those large black eyes never left him. “...for your core size I don’t see why you would react this way…maybe some numbing salve would’ve been good…” The voice trailed off thoughtfully. 

Raph just shook his head slowly. He felt so cold. He felt so empty. 

Please, please, please, please just give it back, please—

“Nevertheless,” The voice mumbled. There was a brief pause before Raph heard the sounds of pen on paper. There were a few seconds, a few seconds of hell before the furry figure returned. “Alright, I suppose I’ll desurface your core. I wouldn’t want you sustaining any lasting damage, my wife would not be pleased if I damaged her new pet,” 

A whine skittered along the roof of his mouth and slow released through his beak. He could barely listen, all his thoughts were consumed by the desperate, desperate need for the warmth to come back.

The figure put his hand on the ball of light and gently pushed it back into his chest. It went easy and felt like liquid gold. 

And Raph gasped. 

It was warm, it was warm, it was warm, it was warm, it was so warm—

Everything had color again, everything was alive again. He was breathing and moving and he was alive and everything warm again and—

“... Titan that’s…” The voice paused, sounding thoughtful in the pause. There was the scratching of a pen on paper that continued all the way.  “Baron Draxum’s records were correct then…” The voice said, like he was making notes to himself.

Raph closed his eyes and just tried to breathe. It was back, it was back, it was back, the warmth was back. 

Raph’s heart was beating in his ears and everything was fading back in. His fingertips tingled and he felt alive. 

Raph swallowed thickly and let out a shuddering breath. He opened his eyes slowly, he could do it, even though it was hard to.

The otter was there, silvery whiskers and gold painted claws. The yokai looked down at him and Raph’s body instinctively tried to shrink back. The relief was there but now there was fear. The otter had taken something away. Something so important and good and warm. Sure he had given it back but if it was gone again what if—

He…Raph wanted to crawl away and hide in a hole so the otter could never take the warmth away again. (It was his. He wasn’t—he couldn’t be alive if it wasn’t his. If it wasn’t him. )

The otter looked down at him, with slick black eyes and Raph felt sick to his stomach. Scared, trembling but—but at least he was warm .

“Well Raph,” The otter intoned flat but interested. “Despite the slightly larger than average size of your core, the density is something to take note of. Very impressive, considering everything else. So I’d say everything will take just fine, ” 

Raph shuddered. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe. He felt raw and itchy. His chest felt thick and crowded, like it was stuffed full of wet rags and ammonia. Tears dried on his face and he could feel his heartbeat in his wrists and throat and hear it pounding in his ears. He was warm but just a second ago he wasn’t. Just a second ago he was empty. 

(How could he—)

And…and he felt small. Raph felt so small. So weak, so useless. 

(Why was it—) 

“I’ll allow you to rest for a few minutes before I examine your organs and nerves,” 

Raph felt sick. He wanted to puke. He wanted to curl up into a hole and never leave. He wanted to curl up in a pile of blankets and never get out again. He wanted to hug his bros and watch Jupiter Jim, he wanted to be anywhere but here—

But he wasn’t. 

And he didn’t know how to get out. 

( If he got out.)

…when. Not… if . 

…

..

.

(::) 

“And you checked all his favorite spots?” 

“Yeah April,” 

“Did the Foot Clan say anything?” 

“ No,” 

“Was he at Run of the Mill?” 

“No,” 

“What about the place of the robbery?” 

“Donnie’s checking the cameras,” 

“...” 

“...” 

“...we’ll…we’ll find him Leo,”

“...I…we should’ve gone with him,” 

“It’s not your fault—” 

“It IS!” 

“Leo—” 

“If we just went with him he wouldn’t have gone missing ‘cause we would’ve been with him! And–and I—I…” 

“...” 

“...”

“...” 

“...I’m gonna check on Donnie, he might have something,” 

“..okay…I’ll check in with Mikey…” 

“Good,” 

“...” 

“...” 

Chapter Text

Raph stared out in the lab area outside of the reddish pinkish cherry-ish box. Counting.

The otter left it all see-through, so Raph could look out of his prison and not just stare into one color. That was nice at least. 

He’s not sure how long it's been. Hours maybe? 

The otter did a lot of weird mystic tests. Now Raph had a pretty good understanding of what his liver looked like now. Not…physically, Raph could be grateful for that but there was a sorta magic hologram that the otter had somehow pulled out. 

Raph shivered and pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the thump-thump of his heart. He was…glad it was in his chest and not outside of it. Whatever the otter did to—to take whatever the warmth was (mystic core?) he wasn’t super excited to have it happen again. (Even though it seemed like the otter wouldn’t do it again. Raph still didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust anything really.)

 Raph breathed slowly and tried to count how many bones on the tables he could see. He kept forgetting which ones he’d already counted and then having to start over but he’d been having a pretty good run so far. 

He was at 74. 

He breathed and kept counting. 

75. 76. 77. 78. 79…

Raph counted and tried not to think too hard about his brothers. 

—||—

Raph had lost another round with himself when the otter walked back in the room. It must’ve been a different day because his fancy shirt was a different fancy shirt. He also had gold clasp earrings on his furry little otter ears. 

(Raph didn’t like the implication that he was still here and a whole day had already passed.) 

“Good morning Raph,” The otter said conversationally. 

Raph glared, feeling his stomach twist. 

“I realize that a creature of your size would require food, based off of your biology I’m guessing you're a carnivore?” 

Raph blinked, momentarily surprised. Well…he was hungry but…he’s eaten vegetables before. But he also didn’t trust anything the otter would give him. (What if he did something to it.) 

Raph resumed his glare. “What’s it to you?” 

The otter looked very unimpressed by his glaring. “I have to feed you or else you wouldn’t make a very good brunch trophy,”

… what? 

The otter said it easily. Like it made sense. Like it was the only thing that made sense. But–but it didn’t, because— what?

Raph had to blink a couple more times, the word trophy ringing in his ears and making a stone drop into his gut. 

“W…brunch trophy..?” Raph asked, voice trembling straight through his spine. 

“Yes. That and something to show off during parties. Bodyguard, lap dog. Multipurpose really,” The otter eyes slid over to him and Raph resisted the urge to shrink back into the corner. 

He breathed and tried to keep his voice steady, his mind running rampant over what he meant by that. “Er…um…” But he couldn’t find the words. He tried anyway. “...what..what’s that mean though…?” He was trying, he was, he was, he was—

The otter stared at him, still looking the absolute picture of boredom. He sighed, eyes breaking from him to look at some of the articles on the tables. 

“My lovely wife, my beautiful Lilith,” His voice curled around her name and Raph could feel the obsession in it. 

“She requires more than just hired goons to follow her to parties and outings. The Vandibrs and Mivisteens are being rather obnoxious and rude with their new pets and since I am able and because she wants it, I am going to give her something better then both,” 

Raph was sweating, he distantly wondered if his breathing had always been this loud. 

The otter paused for a moment, back still turned to Raph. “How much do you know about yokai history? I heard that you had lived with the soulless up on the surface for most of your life,” 

Raph was breathing, he was, he was, he was—

“...I…er…” Raph after a moment nodded numbly, wondering what the otter was talking about when he said soulless. “..yeah, I live up there,” 

(Did that mean he was in the Hidden City? Sure he could’ve guessed that with his captor being a yokai and all that but…) 

The otter turned to look him up and down. Raph felt his face heat up and got the urge to curl up under a blanket so nobody could see him. (But there was no blanket. Just him and that stupid, warmth stealing otter.) 

“I guess that explains the smell…” The otter muttered to himself. He lightly shook his head to get back on track. “Regardless, yokai history is very deep and very rich. Unlike the history of…” His little otter snout wrinkled and Raph’s stomach dipped. “..humans,” 

Raph swallowed thickly and tried to breathe.

“Though I suppose the most relevant part of that history is the Age of Dragons,” 

Raph couldn’t help pause and tilt his head curiously. “...dragons?” Those were real? 

“We are post Dragon Age or DA, as many schools use,” 

“Oh,” Raph couldn’t help but let out dumbly. “Uh…does..that mean…they’re all gone?” He was curious and that was enough for him to ask.

The otter hummed. “Large creatures, wings the size of mountains and scales as numerous and dense as fish in the ocean. Horns that were the envy of pattern smiths and fire as hot as the Only Sun. Grand beasts. Empyrean flowed more freely back then, humans were simple apes when yokai were settling in villages of their own. But dragons ruled the oceans, the skies, the plains. They were the original kings of yokai kind,” 

Raph frowned and his brows furrowed. He dared to ask. 

“What..happened to them..?” 

The otter looked at him. He looked at him for a long time and it made Raph’s scales crawl. 

“Humans…they came to be and grew greedy. They crushed the dragons’ eggs in their own nests and hunted down the drakon while they slept. The dragons’ blood turned the rivers red and the sky refused to rain in retaliation. It was a horrible time, us yokai were driven underground not long after that,” 

“...oh,” 

The otter hummed again, stare intense. Then: 

“And my delightful Lilith is a historian and appreciator of them. She collects tales and physical mementos of them,” He gestured to the bones of the tables. “And for this project she gave me some of them to work with,” 

Raph felt cold all over, his curiosity was slowly getting crushed under foot. His eyes went over the bones and wondered why some of them were so small. 

“...so…all those bones are…” 

“Not all of them,” The otter dutifully corrected. “Some of them are proper substitutes for the bones themselves and others just decoration,” 

“...oh…” 

The otter nodded. 

Raph also had to wonder why he was just leaving them out on tables where they could fall and break. It was…a weird choice. 

The silence hung for another minute or two before the yokai spoke again. 

“Now with that explanation out the way, my first question still stands. Are you a carnivore?” 

Raph frowned and glanced around as he rubbed his palm. He wanted out. He wanted out so badly. 

—||—

Raph was fed surprisingly normal food. Veggies and some kind of meat Raph didn’t want to know the origin of. (He didn’t ask and he was scared to do so. It tasted fine and…and it didn’t smell weird..so…)

After that the otter raised his fist to knock on the box, Raph could barely push out a no don’t! Before he crumpled like a sack of potatoes, brain fuzzy and limbs numb. 

Raph’s eyes fluttered and he fell asleep. 

…

And he woke up screaming. 

Chapter Text

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsITHURTS—

—||—

Raph was breathing. 

(Wasn’t he?) 

His vision was blurry, black clung to the edges and he was once again bound to a table. He couldn’t move. His fingers were numb and his skin was buzzing. His chest ached and everything felt like it was moving through cold syrup. Molasses. Whatever. 

His eyes burned. Maybe that was from the tears. 

“Well your bones seem to in order,” 

Raph barely had the energy to try and move away. He couldn’t, even if he tried, he couldn’t. (He couldn’t get out and it hurt so much.) 

The otter moved in and out of his vision and Raph caught a glance of the yokai wiping off the live edge of the knife, slick and shiny with blood, off with a fuzzy looking rag. 

The smell of blood was thick in the air and Raph could physically feel it in the back of his throat. He could taste his own blood in the air. 

The otter looked down at him, eyes black, so black. Like they would start dripping at any moment and it would look like he was crying ink. (Wasn’t there a horror game about that?) 

Everything was so thick and slow and Raph was surprised he was still breathing. 

He wanted to ask why. Why, why, why? Why can’t he go home? Why him? Why? Why? Just—

“Though I’m not surprised about your shell,” The otter spoke slowly, like he was making notes to himself. “I’m not sure if I have time to figure out a way around it or if I should work it into the design. I’ll have to check over your Empyrean to Nucleic Acid ratio again…” 

The otter walked out of Raph’s line of vision and the air in the snapper’s lungs rattled. 

“I will admit Baron Draxum did make a robust product, he always was good at making things that last,” 

Raph was tired. He was scared and he just wanted it to stop. 

He didn’t care that the otter kept saying weird stuff. He didn’t care that the otter kept talking like he’d talked to Draxum or followed his work or whatever. He didn’t care about anything expect making it STOP—

(There was something else, something else just as—if not more—important. It was different. It was wrong. Why was it so wrong? He needed it back, he needed —) 

The otter paused and looked down at him, expression blank. “I wonder how many of your organs can be repurposed…” The otter trailed off, thoughtful. 

Something fearful and thin released like steam through his beak. A whine. A plea. Something that begged. 

“I wondered if Lilith would be opposed to having a second pet around the house, maybe a solstice gift,” The otter tilted his head, eyes slick like oil wells. “Then at least I would have greater exploration of the final design…maybe the purple one. I’m sure the softer shell would be easier to break in,”  

Something in Raph lurched at the otter’s words. His breath hitched and all he could think was no, no, no, no, not Donnie—

Not his little brother—

“Whu—n-no…you…you can’t… I…w’on’t let yo..u…” Raph slurred, his tongue felt fat and it was like he’d never spoken a lick of English once. “..I won’t…l..let you—” 

The otter looked down at him and Raph wanted to hide in a hole. But he couldn’t move. He was too weak. He couldn’t do anything, h-he, he couldn’t—

“You very easy to rile up Raph,” The otter noted plainly. “I’m not going to pick up another one of your hatch mates. I have you,” The otter pat Raph’s head twice and it felt cold, like a formality. 

Raph flinched. (He would’ve flinched harder if his tired body would’ve let him.)

“Besides,” The otter said, tone practical. “I don’t have time to attend to another kappa. I was just ideating,”

(He didn’t know what that meant.) 

“..yu’r…” Raph breathed heavily. His limbs burned. His blood was hot. The room smelled like his own blood. He couldn’t move and let alone think straight. He blinked, trying to figure out how to open his eyes again. “..y’ur..not..?” 

The otter looked at him and Raph didn’t know how to make him stop. The otter looked at him and Raph thought that, maybe, he looked a little worried. 

“I thought you would need to lose more blood to reach this stage,” 

Raph blinked. Tired. Buzzing. Confused and scared. “...wh..wh..utt..?” 

The otter looked at him, again, without saying something. Anything. Until Raph heard him mutter to himself: “It could be because of the implants, though I didn’t expect them to take root for at least a couple of hours. But then again…” 

Raph blinked slowly, feeling heavy, scared and tired. 

The otter didn’t blink. Raph had never seen him do it. His little earrings clinked against each other and Raph thought they would’ve looked pretty if they were worn by literally anyone else .

The otter looked at him for a long while and Raph forgot to count the seconds. 

“Go to sleep Raph, sleep deprivation will just make it worse,” 

Raph blinked, the words going in one ear hole and out the other. He blinked again and again. Slow. Tired. Confused. What was happening again? 

He closed his eyes. Feeling cold and his chest burning hot. His throat mangled. 

He wanted his brothers. 

But all he could smell was his own blood, sweat and fear. 

He was tired and letting sleep take him, was easier than he wanted it to be.

—||—

Raph woke up, back in the pinkish, reddish box. His eyes fluttered and bones ached something fierce. He groaned into himself and tried to push himself to his feet. It worked but he had to brace against his knee to do so. 

He was hurting. 

Something felt…wrong. Off. He didn’t know how to explain but something wasn’t right. He felt very, very heavy. And not the normal heavy, the weird, definitely not normal heavy. 

What…what happened?

Raph breathed slowly and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the weird vertigo to pass. He swayed on his feet and felt off balance, like his center of gravity wasn’t where it normally was. 

Raph instinctively leaned forward a little, his tail came off the ground and Raph felt himself settle a little bit. This felt better. 

He stayed like that for a little bit, leaning forward, heel a inch off the ground and his tail steady and balancing behind him. 

Yeah. Yeah this felt better. 

(::) 

Two days. 

Two days. 

It had been two whole days since Raph went off hero-ing and didn’t come back. Didn’t answer texts, didn’t answer calls. Cold turkey. Gone.

Donnie hadn’t slept. Leo simply couldn’t and Mikey…Mikey was stress baking. And he was considering putting diphenhydramine in the brownies. Some for himself and some for his brothers as well. Maybe some for April but…he wasn’t that mean. (Or desperate. Not yet at least.) 

They had still yet to find Raph.

The cameras revealed nothing. The actual place Raph had gone off to, a vintage shop for odds and ends, revealed a laughable amount of evidence. They had found a couple scraps of fabric and some animal hair but that could’ve just been from the old, 1970’s floral print couch. Donnie was analyzing it and getting more and more frustrated doing so. 

They would find him.

They had to. 

Because…what were they without him?

Chapter Text

“I was thinking of adding more color,” The otter noted ideally, tapping whatever a yokai equivalent of a pen was against his clip board thing. “Your scales are a rather nice shade of green but they’re quite boring otherwise,” 

Raph glared at him, pressed into a corner, as far away as possible he could from the otter. He curled up as much as he could. (His hands were shaking and it was harder to breathe. It was always harder to breathe when the otter was around.) 

“Your mystics are red, as was that face mask of yours's. So red as a primary secondary color and then maybe…” The otter trailed off to think about something. “Gold perhaps? Maybe some darker, forest greens towards the end of the limbs…” 

The otter had started doing this more and more. He would sit in a chair, talk to himself like he was talking to Raph, and make notes about stuff. Design changes he was thinking about or going to implement. Raph didn’t get it but it made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to puke but he swallowed it down every time it almost came up. 

The otter looked up briefly from his clip board thing and Raph bared his teeth, a hiss building between them. “How fond are you of your eye color?” 

Raph was caught off guard. Of course he was. It was so…out of pocket. 

But instead of answering he simply tucked himself lower and resumed his glaring. Because screw this guy. (He was scared. God he was so scared but if he buried it under anger maybe it would keep him from breaking down again.)

The otter looked unimpressed but then again—he always did. 

He looked back down to his clipboard thing and scratched a note with his not-pen. 

“You’re scleras are already a pale yellow, so I’m thinking if I darken it to a muddy gold then your brown irises will coincide much better with the rest of your color palette,” 

Raph’s breathing teetered in and out of his lungs and he focused harder on glaring. 

It was freaky. How easy this guy talked about just changing Raph’s appearance. Like he was changing a shirt or switching colored pencils. It made his skin crawl and his heart pound in his ears and choke in his throat. He didn’t want any changes. Raph was fine with the way he was. He was the biggest bro, he was good for big hugs and protecting things smaller and cuter than him. (Not holding them, he wasn’t made for that.) 

He didn’t know what the otter wanted. What he was gonna do. Raph hated that he couldn’t get out and he couldn’t punch the otter face in. He hated how weak he felt. 

“Maybe I could work in some patterning around your eyes, organized coloration shouldn’t be too difficult…” 

Raph narrowed his eyes and glared harder, shaking despite himself. 

He hated that he was here and he hated the otter most of all. 

—||—

“Why me?” 

“Pardon?” 

Raph shifted on his haunches, the position had become more comfortable than sitting for whatever reason and Raph wasn’t one to question it. The otter was organizing the stuff on the desks, moving things around and taking the stuff in and out of boxes. Raph didn’t get it but he also didn’t care.

“Why me?” He asked again. Before the otter could say the same spiel from before Raph plowed onward. “Not ‘cause I was easy or something but…but why did you want me or…or my bros specifically and not like…someone else,” He felt a little queasy saying it but he had to know.

The otter paused and Raph couldn’t tell if he was thinking or not or just pausing because he could. “According to the records of Baron Draxum your Empyrean to blood ratio is a lot more…” The otter paused again and Raph figured he was looking for the right word to say. “Reliably unstable and subject to change then the typical yokai’s,” 

Raph blinked slowly, head tilting. Again, words in and words going out. Then his brain snagged something and Raph blinked again, turning the words over in his mind. 

“Draxum’s records..?” 

“Yes. It’s well known that he documents nearly everything he does and when his residence was damaged thirteen years ago and again—a few months ago—his vast library of documents and records were physically available to any broker that wanted to take and then auction them off,” The otter explained plainly. “I paid a pretty penny for a bundle of them the first time his records came to the market. I never thought anything of it until Lilith showed interest in having a pet no else had,” 

Raph swallowed, palms sweating. “...so, so you…you wanted my bros cause…we were…made in a lab and that makes…” He cringed. “ This, easier,” He didn’t know exactly what he was referring to. The experiments, the magic stuff. The things the otter kept trying to change in him. Into him. He didn’t know. Maybe it was all of them. Maybe it was none of them, but he knew in his heart it had to be one of them. 

The otter regarded him for a moment, expression blank. “Essentially, yes,” 

Raph swallowed again and nodded slowly, feeling sick. Raph didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know if he had anything else to say. 

So for the next couple of minutes or so, Raph watched the otter filt around and do weird mystic science-y things. His stomach twisted itself into knots and his tail lazed around him. 

It was a couple more minutes before Raph dared to ask something again. 

“..what are you gonna do to me?” Raph asked, voice soft. He was picking at the inner scales of his palm, fearing the answer and knowing he probably wouldn’t get the one he wanted. ( The one that would finally let him go home.) 

The otter turned slowly and looked at him in a way that he was becoming very familiar with. Blank and maybe, just maybe, annoyed. Well probably annoyed. Maybe he was thoughtful too. Thinking about stuff. That would make sense. The otter seemed to do a lot of thinking.

(Raph hated he was so familiar with it.)

“I am going to craft you into a suitable brunch pet,” The otter stated. “I have already told you this,” 

Raph gnawed on his cheek and felt miserable. “..I know but…” Raph trailed off, tail twitching with his uncertainty. 

The otter looked at him, his whiskers quivered and there was something displeased about the line in the yokai’s shoulders. “ But..?” 

Raph’s face heated and he wanted to stuff himself inside a hole. “Yeah..but…like..” He picked at the scales some more before he forced his eyes up again. “..what’s a…suitable…brunch pet..?” His stomach squirmed and Raph felt like he swallowed something sour and the size of a softball. 

“Something quiet, obedient and pleasant to look at,” The otter replied without missing a beat. “And in this specific case, something impressive as well,” 

Raph shifted on his claws again and huffed. Heat swirling in his chest. “..can’t you get a…um..like a-uh cat or something or..or a dog,” He reasoned, half desperate and pleading. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to see his bros again. “Or a…uh…parrot, those are cool,” 

The otter wrinkled his snout and Raph wanted to be folded into 4ths and be shoved in a tiny crevice. 

“ No, ” The otter spat, the distaste was obvious and Raph’s eyes flicked up nervously. “Those might work for plebeians or the soulless up on the surface but us High Yokai require the finer things in life. The finest this world has to offer,” 

“..uh…but..but why do you need me?” Raph asked, voice tipping his hand. “I’m..I’m sure there’s a…a fancy yokai pet or something. I’m…I’m a whole person, you can’t…people aren’t pets,” 

The otter stared at him, like he was stupid and Raph curled into himself on instinct. “While yes there are pets on the market, nothing but the best and finely crafted pet will satisfy my darling wife’s needs,” 

“Yeah but—” 

“And yes, most people aren’t pets but you hardly count as a…person,” 

Raph froze, feeling cold. “..uh..whu…what?” 

The otter didn’t even have the decency to pause. “Legally, by yokai law, you aren’t classified as a ‘person’. As you put it. I suppose a case could be made for golem or servant based rights but anything else,” The otter paused, it was a vicious pause and Raph felt every second of it. “None applicable,” 

“..you…um…” Raph was feeling small. He felt sick and small and shocked down to his very core. He… he was a person. (Wasn’t he..?) He’d never thought about it before. He’d never needed to but now he…

“I’m planning on settling your body and soul under my ownership in the days approaching my dear’s Emergence Day. It shouldn’t be too difficult, I know someone in the papers office and Baron Draxum hasn’t reinstated his ownership yet, the claim must’ve expired ages ago,” 

Raph was twitching and shaking and—and–and—

“You—you can’t do that! I-I—” He didn’t know anything about this stuff, he didn’t…he…Raph didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. What could he say to that? “I’m, I’m a person. I–I think about stuff and–and speak words and—” 

“For now,” The otter cut in coldly. 

Raph’s breath hitched and his fingertips had gone numb. “...what..?” What did that mean? What was the otter gonna do to him? Cut out his tongue or–or—

“A proper pet is quiet , obedient ,” The otter listed, eyes boring into Raph’s very bones. Each word firm and too solid to ignore. “And pleasant to look at. My dearest opalescent deserves those things and more. You have no claim to what you are or what happens to you. In the eyes of the law you have less rights than the common Horn Slug and I have every right to do whatever I please with you,” 

The otter stared him down and Raph wished he could bury his head in hands and make it all disappear. Maybe he would appear back home, back in the lair. His bros by his side and the whole thing a nightmare. He wanted it to be a nightmare, he wanted it to be a nightmare so badly. 

“So there’s no use in arguing for your personhood because you simply don’t have it ,” 

Raph didn’t know if he was breathing right or if tears were building up and falling down and over. Or both. Maybe it was both. He might’ve been doing both. It sure felt like it. 

Raph swallowed thickly and stared down into his palm. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to respond or act or…or think about the fact that he apparently didn’t have rights. But…he…he was a person. 

He…

He had to be..

..

…right?

Chapter Text

There were days(days? What constituted a day here? There were no windows, the lights never turned off. It was hard to sleep and even harder to keep track of the time.) when Raph found it hard to move. 

He would lay there, arm thrown over his eyes and try to imagine he was anywhere else. Anywhere else but here. 

Sometimes he would drift. Drift away from the pain in his limbs and the burn in his throat. Everything would get a little fuzzy and it would get harder and harder to remember where he was exactly. (He couldn’t complain about that as time went on. It got harder and harder to begrudge it.)

Sometimes he would curl up, tuck himself into a ball and try to simulate the feeling of his bros laying on top of his shell or climbing all over him. He missed that. He missed them.  

He missed his brothers so much. 

—||—

Raph scratched at the sparkly not glass floor, it didn’t do much but he was doing it anyway. He just kept thinking: Maybe if I scratched hard enough, it’ll break and I can finally get out. 

It was a fragile hope he was holding onto but he was holding onto it regardless. (Deep down he knew that scratching at the floor wouldn’t work, punching, kicking, yelling—none of it worked. Nothing he did worked. Nothing worked.) 

He knew the box was mystic. He knew that everything he tried ended up not working. His mind ran and wondered— how did it work? Why? What did he have to do to break it? Why couldn’t he just punch it?

The questions were all he had, all he had to do besides silently beg for his family and safety. 

They…they were all he had. 

So he sat, hunched over and scratching. Hoping, wondering, wanting. 

He wanted out. 

He wanted out so badly. 

—||—

“I’m sure you’re aware that isn’t going to work,” 

Raph barely glanced up before going back to his scratching. It was all he had. Desperately and tragically—it was all he had. 

Raph rumbled low in his throat and kept scratching, not making a single nick in the smooth surface. 

He didn’t need to look up to know that the otter was staring at him, bored, judgmental, it didn’t matter. The otter was still looking at him. 

Raph didn’t say anything else for a while. He scratched the floor and just glared harder when nothing happened. He waited and listened and scratched. 

The snapper glanced up once and wasn’t surprised when he saw the otter making something else in the mortar and pestle. 

“...how’s this work anyway..?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking himself or the otter. Maybe it didn’t matter. (Maybe it did.) 

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” The otter replied coolly, mixing at about the pace he was talking at. Which is to say— slow. 

Raph huffed, nose tingling and lungs feeling heavy. “The uh…” His brow furrowed and his scratching slowed. “The box,” 

The otter didn’t bother looking at him and Raph didn’t bother being hurt by it. “It’s a construction specifically made to hold large animals. Particularly in temporary or market settings,” 

Raph’s brow furrowed even more. Large animals..? 

“..oh,” Raph muttered. He blinked slowly and his eyes lingered. “...but…but how’s it work though?” 

The otter looked back at him for a moment and Raph could see him thinking. “It works by matching the energy output given to it. Allowing it apply reciprocal force in the exact moment the force from the animal is applied to the construct,” 

“Um...” 

The otter sighed and Raph almost felt bad for asking. With the weight ‘n all. “When you punch it—yes I’ve seen you do that—the construct applies the same force at the moment you make contact. Ensuring that any damage you give to it, it gives to you,” 

Raph frowned, thinking. But…when he punched it, sure it hurt, but it didn’t hurt too badly. So why…? 

The otter paused and looked…happy? “Honestly I’m surprised it turned out as well as it did. The ritual hex for this particular one was rather old and outdated. Most newer containment constructs have more then one ritual hex in the array but I was…short on time as you can imagine,” 

Raph hummed and looked at the box a little closer than he did before. “...that uh…makes sense… I guess…?” 

“Yes. Of course it does, I made it after all,” The otter nodded self-importantly and went back to his mortar and pestle. Apparently deciding the conversation was over. Raph didn’t mind. He didn’t like the otter or his dumb talking anyway.

Raph hunkered down again and went back to scratching. Losing himself in the rhythm of it.

 It…it was the thought that counted. 

Because at this point it had to be.

Because at this point…

What else was there?

Chapter Text

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, OH GOD NO PLEASE—

—||—

Raph’s brain hurt. Everything was fuzzy and confusing and it was hard to remember where he was exactly. He knew that it was bad, he knew it hurt, he knew that his bale was nowhere to be seen. 

Time slipped through his fingers, sand and water and cupped hands. Everything blurred at the edges and Raph slipped through the cracks. One minute he was scratching at the floor and next he was screaming. Sigil seared into his throat so his voice came out quiet and barely a rumble. 

He would pound and cry and thrash and nothing would happen. He would hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and nothing would happen. 

And the otter would look up with half-lidded eyes and take notes. A careful little scratch-scratch of a not-pen on a not-clipboard as the nice-not person mumbled to himself. 

Raph tried to get out but his limbs locked and his brain screamed. No, no, no, no, no, not again please please don’t not again I don’t know if I can do it please I don’t want to do it again it burns it burns it burns please stop stop stop what can I do to make it stop please stop please stop please please PLEASE—

Raph choked on sobs and crumpled like cards, desperate. Scared. His mind snatching things up and running with it till his feet bled. Blood out the nose and sour over his lips. He scrambled and pleading words tore at his throat. 

He begged, even when no sound came out. 

—||—

“Tell me,” It was quiet in the room and the otter’s voice cut like a knife. 

Raph raised his head to look at the yokai. He wanted to scream or break something or, or hurt something. Hurt someone. ( Hurt the otter. Crush his neck and snap his spine and—) 

Raph didn’t act on any of the thoughts, he just watched the otter with narrowed eyes. (He shook, he breathed, his heart beat in his ears. It was loud and his blood was hot. He was scared and it was getting harder and harder to pretend he wasn’t and easier and easier to fold into anger. Because at least then it wasn’t fear. ) 

“How did you live before? I was under the impression that humans despised anything that didn’t look like them or their kin,” The otter sat at a desk that wasn’t there a bit ago. An hour. A minute. It didn’t matter at this point.

 It looked like the yokai was doing paperwork. Raph didn’t recognize any of the words. Must’ve been a different language. (What language did yokai write in? They spoke English, so why wasn’t the otter writing in it?) 

Raph worked each breath deeper and deeper, farther and farther into his chest and slower out through his nose and mouth. Maybe it would calm his beating heart, maybe it would make it easier to think when everything felt on verge of collapse. Maybe if he breathed deep enough he wouldn’t collapse into a pathetic heap of tears in front of the otter again. ( Shame, shame, shame. Shame burned and ached and hurt and strangled. He cried and his face burned and choked with self-imposed revoltion.) 

A short shudder rattled through his nerves and Raph turned away, curling into himself. Chest hot and fingers cold. 

There was a minute or so of silence. Raph heard something liquid bubble somewhere outside the cube. The scratch-scratch of the yokai’s weird not-pen on his not-paper. The soft brush of fabric. Raph’s own breathing. 

A minute or so passed and Raph sorta wished the yokai would just leave him alone. (The otter seemed to… like Raph’s company. If it was anything else Raph wasn’t sure what else it could be. Because the otter spent so long in the room outside and surrounding the cherry-ish pink-ish red-ish cube box thingy. Raph thought it was just a ‘in the beginning’ type thing but he kept coming back. 

Sometimes he would even eat in with him. Raph would have his own food and otter would leave only to return a little later with something that smelled like spices and smothered lavishly in something thick and rich. Raph would eat and the otter would eat and Raph would get more and more uncomfortable with every second of it.

He wanted to be left alone but…but that even better? Was the white lab noise and absolute stillness—better than the otter’s company? Was the otter’s invasive words better than his mind trying to eat itself? Was the potential to talk to anyone, anyone at all, better than being stuck with himself and his anxieties for hours at a time? 

Truthfully, really…he didn’t know. It felt like a double edged sword he was never taught to hold correctly and every time he tried he ended up cutting his hands. 

He didn’t know how to feel about it.

…

But it wasn’t like he got a choice in the matter anyway.) 

There was a minute or so of silence before the otter spoke up again. 

“I assume it wasn’t well. I’ve heard of how they treat animals,” 

Raph swallowed with a difficulty that was becoming more and more common and his hands clenched till they went white. He felt cold. He curled tighter and the butterflies in his stomach had knives. 

“You’ll be much better with my delightfulsome pearl, she takes rather good care of her possessions. You’ll learn to enjoy it, I’m sure,” 

No, no, no, no. He didn’t want to enjoy it. He wanted to go home. 

“An enclosure wouldn’t be too hard to set up either. A place to run around in, stretch your legs, quality prey to keep your senses sharp. Something like that would be favorable I imagine. We have plenty of land we don’t know what to do with anyway,” 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. 

“Lilith always bemoans her trips to the garden. She used to enjoy them but recently tea and a good book don’t seem to satisfy her anymore. Having you will make things much more exciting,” The otter paused for a moment to glance up at him. Silver whiskers twitching. “What were those things called? Fox hunts? My wife always did love things like that. Blood, adrenaline. All good things,” 

Raph felt sick, he felt raw and twitchy and every bone in his body felt wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There was always something wrong. He’d wake up and everything would ache and sometimes he couldn’t even cry out in pain. Because that hurt too. 

“...don’t wanna…” Raph pushed out past the thing, the block, in his throat. It burned in flowered form and pattern and Raph could just barely breathe around it, let alone talk. 

(He reached a hand up his throat and pressed. The pressure tingled something deep and Raph pressed harder than what was comfortable. 

If he closed his eyes he could feel the way it twisted and dug into his voice like a vined rose bush. It hurt. Every time he talked it felt like the syllables came out wrong and his voice wobbled in a way that slurred his consonants together. It sounded foreign and wrong to his ears and it was hard enough to talk around it anyway. 

Sometimes he just stopped and let the occasional instinctual rumble and chitter come out instead. Those went through the block in his throat like water through a sieve. Easy, clean, sometimes almost pleasant. It led Raph to making a lot more animalistic noise then he typically would. 

He’d be more embarrassed about it if everything else wasn’t shit. If he didn’t feel like shit. If this whole situation wasn’t shit. 

He’d be more okay if it wasn’t all shit.

But it was.

So growls it was until he felt safe and comfortable making anything else.)  

The otter paused for a moment, Raph could imagine him glancing up, being slightly judgmental about it like he always was. 

“You don’t…’wanna’?” The otter repeated, some light mockery hanging to his words. 

Raph let the growl build in his chest, he could feel it vibrating through his teeth. 

“..’m…’m not gonna kill…foxes f’er you,” Raph pushed it out even when it hurt. Raph pushed it out even when the block in his throat hissed warnings at him. Raph pushed it out because he was still a person dammit. 

Even tucked into the dark of himself like this, he could imagine the oil slick of the otter’s eyes. The silver whiskers. The gold painted claws that clinked against everything and tore against anything fabric. The rings on his fingers. The not-so subtle ornaments through his fur. The heady cologne Raph had started picking up somewhere along the way. 

He could imagine the otter. Looking at him. And it made him want to claw his own scales off. 

“...not foxes, no. That would be a little too easy,” 

Raph tucked into himself and silently, so, so silently—cried out. Prayed, hoped, dreamed. Begged. (Even though he begged, even though he desperately needed—)

He silently cried out. Even when he knew no one would answer. 

Chapter Text

He could taste fear.

 He could taste his own blood, sweat and tears. It was in his throat and it was in lungs. Shoved in his bones and twitching through his fingers. He picked and scratched and even thinking about trying to punch the walls wasn’t all that common. (They were far and few between but there were moments when he wondered if maybe this time, this time it would finally work. If this time he would finally escape. 

There was never anything to show for it and sometimes he wondered if there ever was.) 

His chest was hot, deep in his lungs and tingling through his throat. He didn’t think about it too much. It wasn’t much compared to everything else. Not when it felt like his bones were trying to bow backwards and his joints were so… liquid. 

He felt dry. Hot and cracked. He missed the sewers. Wet and filled with water and plenty of dark places to hide. It would be nice to stow away in some hole or cave. Build a nest out of soft and shiny things and scoop up his brothers and keep them there. He’d catch fish for them. Or raccoons. 

He wanted that. He wanted them. He wanted his brothers. He wanted them back. 

Why couldn’t he have them back?

—|| —

—no no no no no no please no please please please please I’ll be good this time please please please just STOP—

—||—

“You know, I find it remarkable how quickly you’re adapting to everything, there has been no signs of rejection despite the initial inflammation,” 

Raph blinked slowly, joints aching. Head pressed to the floor, laying on his stomach and his limbs tucked under him. Raph blinked slowly and felt heavy. Raph let his eyes fall into a hatched narrow and a rumble drove itself to life in the depths of his throat. 

The otter looked at him and Raph hated every inch of the yokai’s stare. He curled back a little, hackles prickling, the rumble turning into a low growl. Go away go away go away I don’t want to see you anymore you scare me and I want you to stop I want you to go away—

“Maybe you deserve a treat, for being so good,” 

Raph shivered and shrunk back another inch. No no no no no yes? NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO—

The growl built and Raph could feel his pupils shrink, vision sharpening and something prickling on his neck flexing up defensively. He was shaking from head to tail, and he ground his teeth against it. 

The otter smiled, though it could hardly be described as that. It was more of a twitch than anything. “I didn’t think so,” 

—||—

Time and sand and water and cups and hands. 

Slipping, slipping, Raph was slipping. 

—||—

Raph stared at the wall. The pinkish, reddish, cherry-ish wall. He couldn’t see through it. Not this time.

(This was one of his clearer moments. Where his mind didn’t run away from him and he was able to grasp that time, no matter how stupid and useless it felt, passed at all. He knew that he was here, in a place, at a time—and hopefully—his brothers were coming to get him. He had to hope. He had to.) 

The otter wasn’t here. It was just him and the box. (And everything outside it but how much did that actually matter? It’s not like he could actually reach any of the stuff or even see it. Not now anyway.)

Raph stared at the wall and decided to do something very stupid. 

He decided to punch the wall. He reached way down, down to the warmth and the memories and everything he wanted and loved and cherished. He thought of his family. Of Mikey’s watery eyes and hand glazed cinnamon rolls. Of Leo’s jokes and poking voice. Of Dee’s wacky inventions and inability to read the room. 

Of Dad and his tea. Of April and her constant, grounding presence. He thought of his family. He wanted them back. He wanted to get back to them so badly. 

So Raph breathed, drew back his fist with his family in mind and launched his fist forward. 

It hit true and he yelped. He stumbled backwards, shaking his hand out. His brow furrowed deep and for a moment he felt completely stupid for trying it but when he looked up there was— 

There was a crack. A series of cracks that splintered outward from where he hit. His arm was all tingly and the good, warm spot in his chest pulsed along with his heart but it didn’t hurt. The pain from the box-cube thing was easily swept away when he saw that he did something. He actually did something. He—

Raph heard a door slam open and he felt dread drop from his stomach all the way to his numb feet. 

No. 

Raph swallowed and kept glancing at the cracks. (He couldn’t see outside, the box wasn’t see–through. But he bet the otter was there anyway.) 

He should punch it again. He needed to get out, now might be his only chance, his only—

But—

He—

He wanted to raise his fist again but the memory of pain and hurt and god it burns please please please stop it hurts I won’t do it again please please I don’t want to hurt anymore please just stop please please please PLEASE—

Raph swallowed thickly and each breath came in quick. He–he should—but—

“...unfortunate but not unfixable,” 

Raph held his breath, willing himself to move. To hit, to kick, to do something to break the box. To get out. To see his family again. 

But—  

“I was going to do this later but it seems you haven’t learn your place yet,” 

Raph wasn’t breathing. Too quick, too scared, too useless—

Raph’s legs felt like jelly and he faltered until he flailed himself back into the wall, hearing the otter’s voice but not knowing where he was coming from or what he was talking about. 

He heard something crack, like a pretzel or–or a glow stick or-or-or—

“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it,” 

There was something–something—something-something–something—

Raph’s air strangled itself and he gasped, eyes rolling back and something marshmallow thick seeping into his bones–he—he—

“Most pets do,” 

Raph choked and—

…

…

Felt good. 

—||—

“...there, there. That wasn’t so bad was it? You’ll feel much better like this, I assure you,”

—||—

Something felt good, so, so good. 

There was a couple of hours or so (hours, minutes, days? He couldn’t tell) when the otter did something to him. He didn’t know what but what it was it made him feel good. 

Raph was left laughing and giggled and twitching as he felt so inexplicably amazing. He didn’t remember the last time he felt so good. It was so good, so good. Sosososossososososossoso—

The otter would tell him to do something— stand, sit, roll over, purr until I can feel it through the floor —and Raph would do it. Short puffs of hair and laughter fell past his lips and Raph tripped over himself trying to do it. Everytime he did something it felt better and better and better and better—

Until Raph could barely breathe or move but he kept smiling and laughing and giggling—

Because it felt so good, so good so sossosososossososososososososososo good—

Raph barely noticed when his nose started bleeding and panicked red light lit up under his scales and scattered across his skin’s surface. Building and building and building, going somewhere and somehow and someway and putting a terribly, horribly hot pressure straight through his lungs and rocketing into his skull and sinuses. 

  Raph didn’t notice. It felt too good. He kicked feet and his fingers twitched and Raph couldn’t stop smiling. He couldn’t stop wanting more and more moremoremoremoremore and more and itfelt so goodgoodgoodgoodgoodgoodgoodgoodgoodgoodgoodgood—

He couldn’t—

It was—

Then. 

Then the otter took it away. 

And suddenly Raph was falling down and down and down and down and down downdowndowndowndowndowndowndowndowndown and down—

He wheezed and choked and tears welled up. Because it was gone and— and now it hurt and—

“Not compatible it seems. I’ll need to make a note about that,” (Disappointment? Was the otter disappointed?) 

Raph choked on his own spit and his lung ached like he’d been holding his breath. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt ithurtithurtithurtithurtithurtithurt—

“I suppose I’ll have to find something else to keep you from breaking anymore of my things. Maybe an external artifact of the spell perhaps…? There’s always incentivization curses, possibly something nerve binding? What did Lilith use that one time…? I’ll have to ask,” 

Raph coughed and spat out saliva and blood and squeezed his eyes shut. Everything hurt. Everything was on fire. Everything buzzed something of a million degrees and twisted until the limbs popped out of their sockets. Bright and neon and so stupidly and deniably liquid. 

Raph choked until there was nothing to choke on. Wheezed until there was nothing to wheeze on. He breathed in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out until—

Sob. 

His breath hitched and a sob bubbled up in ugly, crowning glory. Terrible and all encompassing all at once. 

He curled into himself and sobbed. Until he couldn’t breath from that too. 

…

“...I suppose I’ll need to fix that too,”

And Raph could only sob harder. 

Chapter Text

“You’re coming along wonderfully Raph. Did you know that? Everything is coming along so much better than I hoped. I barely have to worry about authentication. You look so much like them, it’s almost unsettling. Finding a way for the wings to break through your shell really is my only issue with your physical form. Everything else is near superficial. I’ll have to start looking for collars, won’t I?” 

—||—

Raph’s throat burned. It was itchy and raw and liquid somehow. It went from the back of his mouth and all the way down to his stomach and then some. 

And it hurt. 

The otter kept doing things to him and all of it hurt. 

Why did it have to hurt all the time? 

(::)

It had almost been three weeks . It had been a whole 28 or something days and they still didn’t know where Raph had gone. Who snatched him. (Because that was the only explanation, wasn’t it?) 

Leo was little more than a live wire at this point. He was twitching and restless. He snapped at anything that so much as moved. 

Donnie was more like an old dog. Diligent, hard working until his bones broke and his eyes clouded over. He didn’t stop. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. He just looked. 

And Mikey had become the wilting cherry blossom between. He tried. He tried to keep their spirits up. To cook savory and sweet things. To coax them to sleep, all the while trying to keep everything together under the weight he wasn’t supposed to bear alone. He was wilting and the season wasn’t right for the fruit he was trying to give them. He became sour and was thrown away with the rest of the undesirables. 

It…it wasn’t sustainable.

But they made it work. 

(::)

Raph ached. 

His bones ached. 

Everything ached. 

He bared his teeth and snarled, surrounded by raspberry pink and something fluffy and miserable just beyond the barrier. He slowly, carefully retreated back into the corner, hunched low and instincts running high. His claws clicked against the mystic glass and his tail, spiked and long, swayed dutifully behind him. 

He growled as it came closer to his prison. Some part of him was afraid of it. Some part of him wanted to ask nicely for the terrible thing to stop hurting him. Some part of him lowered his head and fidgeted as sharp questions and thoughts fought like small knives beneath his skin. 

Some part of him was afraid. 

But another part, aching and raw and twisted like sharp thorn, was angry. 

He was angry. 

(::) 

April’s parents had pulled her away, grounded, putting off school and racking up the absences. She couldn’t keep doing it. Her parents meant well but April tried to help and they only held onto her harder. They were talking about getting a lock on her window. 

Splinter had regressed into himself. Curling in and shutting down. Falling back into bad habits. He disappeared and his sons barely had the energy to notice it themselves. 

(::)

Raph was angry. 

He just wanted to see his brothers again. He just wanted his family back.

The terrible thing had taken it from him. It had taken his most precious things and wanted him to lay down on his belly and lick cream and lies from the palm of his hand. It had taken everything and stuck him full of barbed magic and waterboarded him in liquid fire. He couldn’t even beg for it to stop with his lungs full of tainted bronze and magma gold. 

Raph was so angry. 

(::) 

Their cornerstone was gone and they were suffering for it. 

They searched for Raph, desperate, scared, full of tears and mangled panic. 

Where was he? Why couldn’t they find him? Why couldn’t they find him? 

(::) 

Raph hated the terrible, fluffy thing. He hated everything it did. Every movement, every breath—he hated it. 

He snarled and hissed as it came closer, each step in a nauseating slow motion. 

The otter was going to knock. 

And Raph couldn’t let that happen. 

(::) 

They needed him. 

They needed Raph. 

(::) 

His brothers. His sister. His bale. He needed them. 

And the otter was going to knock.

And Raph wouldn’t let him.

Pressure built in his lungs and throat. Raph felt blistering heat flicker under his scales and piling up in his sinuses. He could feel in his throat and mouth. It built and built and built. 

And when the otter raised his hand, gold painted claws and faux amour. 

Raph’s jaw snapped open and let the pressure explode outward.

(::)

But…

…how could they find him when they were losing themselves in the process?

(::) 

The pressure sputtered and he snapped his jaws shut on around the heat, the raspberry pink warped and glowing like a hot iron. He raked against the ground and charged the wall and he felt the crystal glass shatter. He tumbled and clawed his way back to his feet. He felt the pressure build. It was just as hot and Raph released it into the room. 

Tables and chairs and bones curled black and smoke filled and choked the room. Raph breathed smoke and did not choke. He trampled over stools and they splintered under his weight. 

 The terrible thing burned fleshy pink and scrambled backwards. Raph’s eyes zeroed in and he felt the pressure build once again. His tail lashed behind him and his crowned head heavy and laden with keratin and bone. 

He moved closer, steps large but no less graceful and the thing kept trying to escape. Raph neared and dark red smoke billowed out when he breathed. The thing scrambled and Raph loomed over it. He palmed down on its chest and the terrible thing wheezed, bones cracked. Raph hissed, eyes slits. He felt the pressure build, the heat numbing and blind.

He forced its head back and paid no heed to the rambling, fear sharp words. He took one more second of looking into its oil slick eyes before the pressure reached its crescendo. 

Raph took a deep breath, lungs filled and aching, and released the pressure. 

Its flesh burnt and scored and Raph didn’t stop till there was nothing but bones. 

The heat tapered slightly and he breathed out used mystics, dark red and proof of concept.

He breathed slowly, standing in a way that twinged at his legs. 

He looked at the corpse and breathed deeply. 

He didn’t spare it another minute as he turned…

And looked for the exit. 

(::)

uʍoʇ uoᴉʇɐɔɐʌ uosɐǝs-ɟɟo ɯ,I

punoɹɐ s,ǝuo ou 'ʎɐʞo s,ʇI

ǝq oʇ pǝsn sƃuᴉɥʇ ʎɐʍ ǝɥʇ ssᴉɯ I

ǝq oʇ pǝsn sƃuᴉɥʇ ʎɐʍ ǝɥʇ ssᴉɯ I

ɹǝʍoɥs ɹoopʇno ǝɥʇ oʇ ʇǝƃ oʇ pɹɐʎʞɔɐq ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥ┴

pǝʞɐu 'ƃuᴉʞlɐʍ ssᴉɯ I

sɹnoɥ ƃuᴉuɹoɯ ǝɥʇ uᴉ noʎ pu∀

ƃuᴉuɹoɯ ǝɥʇ uᴉ sɹnoɥ ǝɥʇ ssᴉɯ I

ǝɹǝɥ uǝʌǝ ʇou ɯ,I 'ʎllɐʇuǝW

ǝɔɐdspɐǝɥ ɹǝɥʇouɐ 'ʎllɐuoᴉʇoɯƎ

ʇuǝuᴉʇuoɔ ɹǝɥʇouɐ 'ʎllɐɔᴉsʎɥԀ

ʎɐʍɐ ɹɐɟ 'ɹɐɟ ɹo dn pǝʞɔnɟ ɯ,I uǝɥM

ǝʌol ʎɯ ssǝɹdxǝ ʎluo plnoɔ I ʇnq

(::)

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

“...Raph?”