193This is long. I hope I don't lose you all by updating so much tonight, but all four of these chapters were pretty much one major chapter. Thanks again for everything. Everyone in the story is owned by Mirage except for Frankestein which is just as well...
Frankenstein Wannabe Part D
Mike barely remembered the explosion. He barely remembered much of anything at the moment. All he did know was that one minute he was in this large chamber with his bros, and the next he was falling and smothering and receiving many blows to the body-
And then he was running for his life.
He suddenly realized as he was running blindly down this tunnel that he was being chased by the Slayer.
He was so foggy on the details of how it'd started. As he ran, he kept trying to remember just what the hell led up to this particular situation. He kept trying to reason it out, but just as he would start to make sense of it, he would suddenly be in a fight for his life.
The Slayer had him. The Slayer, though it could heal, had suffered enough damage in the explosion and fall to give Mike a bit of hope. But he still couldn't shake this thing.
Or beat it.
The dark wasn't helping. The Slayer saw better in the dark than Mikey did. He vaguely knew that when the dust and smoke had settled around them, the Slayer had looked surprised to see Mike so close- perhaps he couldn't see through all that stuff.
Mike had been surprised to see him as well.
Without a thought, he had smashed both 'chuks into the eyes of the Slayer, and then run like hell.
After a while, he finally "came to" himself, and realized that he was running away from his family.
"Mikey, you chucklehead," he said to himself. "Now what are you going to do?"
All the time he could feel the bag smacking against him. For some reason, he remembered that when Don had first handed him the bag, he'd put the copy of Frankenstein into it- funny that he didn't remember until then that he'd done that.
Funny that he'd done a lot of stuff in his life. Of the four of them, he seemed to be the one to do the dumbest things. Maybe they were right- maybe he was a baby after all. Maybe he never mutated past the age of five. Wonder what they'd think in the Battle Nexus to realize that a kid had beaten all comers to become the Battle Nexus champion-
Mike suddenly stopped and put a hand to his head. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't focus.
Must have hit his head. Yeah, that was it. He must have hit his head when he was running from the Monster that Frankenstein had created out of- Mike! Snap out of it! You're running from the Slayer!
As if to confirm this, the Slayer had suddenly caught up with him. Mike fought without thinking, purely on instinct. He thought of nothing but fighting as he'd been taught to by Master Splinter. He thought of nothing but fighting for his life. The entire thing was a blur of battling, and then he was running again, running on an increasingly weakening right leg- he should have never come with his brothers. They kept telling him to stay home, to read his book, to wait until his leg grew back-
Again he mentally slapped himself. What was wrong? He couldn't afford to lose his concentration. He-
Bam! Once again the Slayer was on him. Once again he used every instinctive skill drilled into him by Master Splinter. Once again he drew on every possible battle memory to aid him.
And once again he escaped.
This went on for who knew how long. Mike was unable to judge the time- hours- days- weeks-
He was the Monster, being pursued by Victor Frankenstein...
He was Mikey, being pursued by the Slayer...
He was-
Bam!
The battle continued. Mikey would fight until he could get away, and then escaped, only to be hunted down once again.
"Damn! He's gonna finish me if something doesn't happen," he gasped to himself, on his third run down a tunnel from wriggling away from the Slayer.
He absently searched through the waterproof bag of stuff that Don had given him, but his hand couldn't find the night vision goggles he'd made for all of them.
"Probably broken anyway in that fall," he murmured, one hand touching the tunnel wall as he ran, stumbling over the debris littering the floor, glancing every now and then behind him.
Not that it mattered, considering that the Slayer could cloak himself, like the foot tech Stockman had created.
As he stumbled on, he remembered the smoke bombs in the pack. Grabbing a few, he kept going forward- and was struck from above, as the Slayer jumped down from the ceiling, where he'd been crawling along!
Mike barely hit the floor when he set off one of the bombs. The Slayer could see well in the dim light, but the smoke was something he couldn't penetrate with his excellent vision, and Mike was able to deliver several vicious blows to his head and face with his 'chuks. He stunned him, but knew that he would recover too quickly for him to try to finish him off, so he kept going.
Now the tunnel branched to the left and right. Taking a chance, he went left. It was sloping upwards, and he hoped that this was a good sign.
Once again the Slayer caught up with him, but Mike was getting better at anticipating the attacks. He felt he'd been at this for hours.
The Slayer sent him crashing into the wall. He rapidly punched Mike's chest, knocking the breath from his body- Mike could feel his ribs taking damage from the blows, despite the protection of his plastron.
His 'chuk swung upwards, more as a defensive gesture to try to protect his chest, and luck was with him- it distracted the Slayer enough when it hit his arm that Mike could once again set off another smoke bomb- and disappear into the confusion, still making his way up the tunnel.
"I need a place to set up an ambush," he kept desperately thinking. "I need a place to set up an ambush."
Abruptly he was in a larger part of the tunnel, a sort of large chamber, with a partially destroyed floor- and the end of the tunnel blocked. The only ways out were back, or down.
Perfect! A dead end.
"Probably my dead end as well," he sighed, looking behind him. He had little time; the Slayer would be on him in a moment.
Searching the bag he found the electric-shock shuirken. He'd have to be close to use those- the Slayer was too fast for him to hit.
He'd barely gotten a few stashed on him within easy reach when the Slayer launched himself at Mikey from the entryway.
As he ducked and managed to slip from the grasp of the Slayer, yet another explosion shook the tunnels. It sounded as if someone was getting closer, someone was on the other side of the caved in tunnel. Mike could faintly hear voices.
"Come on, gentlemen- we must break through! I would prefer my Slayer take the turtle alive, but I may have to settle for whatever he leaves me."
Man, this just gets better and better, he ruefully grinned.
A noise distracted him, and the tunnel he'd entered this chamber through was beginning to be closed off with debris raining down from the ceiling. Both he and the Slayer were being pelted with rock chunks while they fought.
Mikey was taking a beating, and in spite of his skills, he knew he would not last much longer.
The Slayer suddenly had him in a shell-breaking hug, squeezing harder and harder, holding him up off the floor. As he struggled to break the hold, he managed to get one of the shuirken from where he'd secreted it, and wedged it into the exposed metal joint of the Slayer's jaw. The shock was enough distract him so his grip to loosen, and Mikey once again slipped away.
He tried desperately to make it back to the slowly collapsing tunnel, but was tripped up by the Slayer yet again. Again he beat off the attack. Both were bleeding; but Mikey couldn't slowly heal like the Slayer.
Another explosion. Both of them nearly slid into the ever-growing hole in the floor. Now Mike could hear water rushing from below; a pipe must have ruptured, he vaguely thought, trying yet again to make it back into the tunnel.
Once again the Slayer caught Mike from behind, but now he was becoming predictable, and Mike was able to avoid most of the blow to his back. It still sent him down on one knee, causing even more pain to shoot through his injured leg, but he recovered so quickly with a forward roll, flipped around, and made seven clean, powerful strikes to the Slayer's forehead with his 'chuks, driving him to the edge of the collapsed floor.
Before the Slayer could catch himself, Mikey managed to deliver a kick to the chest, sending the creature crashing down to the bottom where all the water was just beginning to rush in.
He had no time to celebrate, no time to escape. Another explosion rocked the tunnel, and caused more of the floor to give way, sending Mikey once again falling amidst debris to another level.
He was momentarily stunned; his mind was working overtime, telling him to hurry up and get up and get the hell out of there before the Slayer could recover...
But as his head cleared, he noticed two things; the icy feel of the water that was filling in the depression, and the desperate noise of the Slayer, trying to free himself from the immense pile of rubble that had him trapped.
Mikey was groggy, but not too groggy to know that if he didn't move quickly, he'd be swimming in no time down some dark channel that ended God knows where. He clamored his shaky way up the rubble until he reached what remained of the upper level floor, a desperate ear tuned to any sound of pursuit.
Gasping, coughing, he gazed down into the tunnel- and realized that the Slayer was going to drown. He was struggling and struggling, but the water was just about over his head now, and he still couldn't free himself.
Mikey, get out of here! his brain kept yelling, as the head of his enemy vanished under a swirling rush of water.
Move, Mikey, move move move! his common sense kept urging him as he saw a large amount of bubbles suddenly erupt on the surface of the still churning water.
"Damn!" Mikey swore, and he suddenly jumped back in, swam down to where a semiconscious Slayer still was trapped, and freed him, dragging him to the top.
Once their heads broke the surface, the Slayer seemingly alive, Mike released him and they both scrambled and clawed and climbed their way back to the upper level- Mikey's second trip. His leg burned like fire, and he wasn't sure it would work, but he was able to once again haul himself out of the lower level and back to relative safety.
They both just lay there, gasping and coughing up water. Mike kept a safe distance, weapons ready. He was tired, injured, and unsure how this thing was going to react.
The Slayer continued to stare at him as he regained his breath. He made no attempt to attack- yet. Mike kept a wary eye on him.
Then he sat up. Mikey tensed for the coming attack.
"Why- you- save?"
Stunned silence.
"Why- you- save- m-me?"
Mike couldn't believe it! This thing was actually talking!
Correction, Mikey insisted to himself- this person was actually talking. His words were halting, hesitant, as if unsure of how to do it correctly. The sound was the sound of metal gears grinding, combined with voice of Bishop- that voice that had haunted Mikey's nightmares for months and months and months.
And yet- not like Bishop's- like a stranger's.
Mike realized that the Slayer still sat there, staring that strange stare at him, waiting for an answer. He desperately wracked his brain for a reason, a reason that made sense- to himself as well as the Slayer. But nothing came, not even a quip.
Then:
"Because I had to," he replied simply.
The Slayer continued to stare at Mike, as if trying to process this information into something that made sense to his training; his "programing"; his very existence.
"Why? Why- save- me? Why- not- kill me?"
Mike looked at the Slayer. He'd been asking himself that question, and was wondering what to say- and as he sat there, he could feel April's book still in the waterproof bag that Don had given them all.
He could feel that book, and something suddenly clicked in his mind.
"Because I felt sorry for you," he said, remembering his feeling for the monster. "I felt sorry for you, because you were- well- created to do something evil. It's not your fault that you're doing what you're doing. I guess."
Pure Mikey logic.
The Slayer had a hard time processing this, but he sat there, that same stare focused on Mikey, until he finally did.
"Created? Created- by- Bishop?"
"Yeah," Mike said. "You were created. Created by a guy kind of like Victor in the book Frankenstein. See, there was this creature- I mean, this being, who was put together with various body parts from dead people, and stuff like that, by this guy named Victor Frankenstein, who thought he could play God by creating Life. Bishop created you- though you're not made from dead people- I hope. You're his clone. You're part of him. You also, I guess, are part machine, too- which is totally beyond my ability to really understand- but-"
Mikey suddenly stopped, as the Slayer slowly stood up. He, too, rose from the floor, gripping his weapons, and steeling himself for the coming attack, knowing that he'd probably signed his death warrant by rescuing this being. He was in no shape to fight, but he wouldn't let this person kill him easily.
But the Slayer did something unexpected. He began to examine himself; looking at his arms and legs, feeling his face, his body- and then those eyes resumed that strange stare at Mike.
"You were- created- You- kill." He knew a lot; Bishop had made sure of that. He knew about the Turtles and their master. It had been drilled into him in order to make his mission more successful; and yet now, now he was having- thoughts. Second thoughts, it seemed.
"Well, yeah," Mike admitted. "We were born regular turtles- but we were created by accident. The mutation was not done on purpose. And yes, we've killed. But we've only done it when needed. We weren't created to hunt. You were created to hunt others; to hunt aliens and mutants who probably just want to be left alone."
The Slayer still looked at Mike, but now the Turtle was beginning to see something different in those eyes- doubt? Was this being feeling doubt over his purpose?
"I am- created- to hunt," he repeated Mikey's statement. "I am created- to- kill?"
"Well, Bishop calls you his 'Slayer'," Mike pointed out. "That means 'killer', you know. It's not like you have a name, you know."
The Slayer still looked at Mike with those eyes, and for the first time, Mike began to notice that they had- well- LIFE in them.
Life.
And understanding.
And Mike suddenly felt such pity as he couldn't explain; such pity that even the Monster in the book had not elicited from him. The words of Master Splinter came back to him in that moment: "There are those who would say that the Monster was indeed more 'human' than the man who had so callously created him."
"You can read?" he asked, and the Slayer, after a moment, nodded his head silently.
Mike without thinking pulled the book from the waterproof pouch, tossed it to the Slayer, who caught it without moving his gaze from Mike.
"Read that," Mike said. "It's kind of hard to understand in parts, but it might make sense to you. It's finally made sense to me."
The Slayer looked now at the book, but before anything could be said, the sounds of digging became louder; Bishop was almost through the cave-in behind his precious Slayer. He would be there before Mike could escape. Once again Mike went on guard. The way was open behind him, but he didn't think he'd be able to get very far. His one leg had really taken a beating in the fall and subsequent fighting; he feared that it had been rebroken.
The Slayer, without turning to the noise, looked directly into Mike's eyes.
"Run," he said simply.
Mike stared at him, briefly wondering if he was being set up for a chase.
"Run," the Slayer said again. "You- save me. I- save you- Even."
Mike needed no more urging. But he couldn't resist turning back to the Slayer.
"Choose a name for yourself!" he said inexplicably, and then scrambled out of the narrow opening behind him and ran as fast as his injuries allowed.