Chapter Text
XXXX - TH-001, age X
Upon first seeing the vast array of materials available at his fingertips, TH-001 had been ecstatic. No longer would he have to scrounge for discarded parts to tinker with in the extremely minimal amount of time allotted for restoring his energy. Metal could be sized and shaped to his exact specifications, programming could be tested and fine-tuned before being directly implemented, and there was no shortage of power sources with which to run his new inventions.
His enthusiasm dwindled over time, however, as it was made increasingly clear that his expertise was thought to be of most use solely to create weapons. He still vastly preferred his new assignment to his previous monotonous manual labor tasks, but designing more efficient stun batons that he knew would very likely be used on himself did little to raise his opinion of his ruthless overseers.
It was when he began asking questions about what specifically his weapons were to be used for that he realized how much bigger the wider world truly was. Initial attempts to convince the Kraang that such knowledge was vital to his work were followed by shocks of pain, but eventually he found just the right words to persuade them that him having access to such information was indeed for their own benefit. Learning that Earth was not, in fact, filled with Kraang ignited his curiosity. He discovered plants and animals of all kinds, including some that held a distant resemblance to the experiments in some of the other laboratories. Seeing the many species of turtles for the first time proved both exciting and sobering, knowing none shared his physical or mental capabilities. But his focus was of course directed to the most problematic of Earth's inhabitants: human beings.
He was intrigued to discover how many similarities there were between himself and the humans physiologically. In fact there were nearly as many traits he shared with humans as he did with turtles, making it difficult for him to determine exactly which species of turtle would be his closest genetic relative, his knowledge more focused on the technical than the biological. Being a turtle-human hybrid of some sort would explain the "H" in his TH-001 designation, but he purposefully thrust all such thoughts from his mind, not wanting to dwell on anything that might tie him to the ones he was helping destroy.
Not that he held any great pity for the human race. While primitive compared to the Kraang, the humans had their own vast array of weaponry that they did not appear shy about using on each other. The Earth seemed at constant war with itself, and he had to wonder if its inhabitants wouldn't cause their own demise before the Kraang could bring it about.
But as he took all of his newly researched information and applied it to his designs, certain thoughts kept nagging at him, thoughts he had to be very careful to keep from slipping from his loose tongue. If the goal had purely been to wipe out the human race, the Kraang should have been able to accomplish it by now. Their technology was far superior, and the humans were as of yet unaware of the Kraang's existence. So what were they waiting for?
Over time, TH-001 put his all into fulfilling his duties to the best of his abilities. Not only did this greatly decrease the frequency with which they deemed disciplinary action against him necessary, but it also left him with more chances to dig a bit beyond what was strictly essential for his given assignment. He came to learn of the humans' love of games—a concept so foreign to him he had wracked his brain for weeks as to its purpose—when stumbling across designs for increasingly outlandish and impractical weapons, most of which, he realized, did not exist outside of digital simulations used for recreation. This lead him to discover how truly creative humans could be. Their architecture utilized so many different angles and colors compared to the Kraang's stark grey and pink, and pictures of anything from intricately detailed landscapes to random blotches of color adorned their walls. They also shared their space with flowers and greenery of countless unique types, adding an organic touch to the manmade cities and roads.
But the most curious concept was that of family units. At first he had assumed that there was some economic or militaristic purpose to the groupings, but there was no evidence to support his assumption. There was no clear definition as to what exactly comprised a family, either, though the most common seemed to involve two parental figures and at least one offspring. The number of variations to this, however, was mind-boggling. Sometimes there would be only a single parent, sometimes no children, sometimes the children were not related by blood, and sometimes even a pet—a creature they tamed and claimed as their own—was considered to be part of a family. For a brief moment he had wondered if he was a pet to the Kraang's larger family, but he had quickly dismissed the idea. Judging by his limited research, all of the images of happy, smiling faces portrayed the concept of a family as something far removed from the cold glares of his superiors.
It was during one of these researching tangents that he accidentally came across files beginning with the designation "HK". He did not have clearance to view such files, but that had never stopped him from pressing his luck before, and while these were locked behind a higher level of security than usual, eventually he was successful.
He stole little more than a glance before being forcefully torn away from his console, pain beyond the likes of which he could ever remember feeling at one time coursing through his body, leaving him limp and sore. His illicit digging had finally caught up to him.
The Kraang kept a far closer watch on him over the next several months, but they had no way of erasing the information that he had already learned. There were Kraang-human hybrids wandering the Earth. He did not know how many or what their exact purpose was, but he knew that they were the crux of everything. They were the reason the Kraang had not simply wiped out the human race. There was a far bigger goal, and he did his best not to think about a punishment worse than planetary genocide.
But the more time passed—the more weapons he built—the more he came to regret his role in helping the Kraang's plans come to fruition. He owed nothing to the humans that kept turtles as pets locked in cages as the Kraang kept him, but a part of him wanted to believe that humanity had to be better than this, with their vibrant colors, boundless creativity, and smiling families. A part of him wanted to believe there was more.
But TH-001 was just one turtle—a single individual banned from having a personality, opinions, or any freedoms at all. His sole purpose in life was to fulfill the demands of his superiors and nothing more. All it would take was a single push too far and he would be sent back to the laboratory with his fellow experiments, locked away without purpose until everything that made up the core of his being was stripped away.
He was just one turtle. What could one such as himself possibly do against an entire race?
2012
There had been no words of praise or recognition of the role he had played in the capture of April O'Neil upon returning to the Kraang facility. The girl had been swiftly whisked away, and he held no desire to find out what fate awaited her.
That was what he kept telling himself, anyway.
"The target was acquired. The mission was completed successfully. Now, TH-001 must repair the battle suit in case of future missions," he muttered to himself as he removed the damaged armor, wincing as a mild pain in his left arm reminded him of the cut he had received in the fight. He frowned, "The abrasion must be disinfected and properly bandaged first. A body must be functioning at a suitable capacity in order to..."
His rambling tapered off as his eyes caught sight of the sharp piece of metal still embedded in the back of his battle suit. Carefully, he grabbed some nearby pliers and removed the object, holding it up to his face to get a closer look. He recognized the simple design as that of a primitive type of human throwing weapon, the sort of thing he had believed was no longer in popular use. But then the primary weapons of the other turtles had been similar. Swords seemed mainly decorative in recent years, a status symbol more than anything, and the chained wooden sticks and metal prongs had looked only vaguely familiar from his studies of human weaponry.
Forgetting all about his arm, TH-001 walked over to the nearest console and began searching through his files. He was quick to discover that the sharp piece of metal was called a shuriken or throwing star, and, as he had suspected, they had largely fallen out of use over half a century ago. The story was similar for the other weapons, the metal prongs—sai—seeming to be the least common while the chained sticks—nunchaku—often being outright banned thanks to their use by some human celebrity several decades ago. Including the swords—katana—they all had one notable thing in common: a reputation for being wielded by ninjas.
"Ninjas are native to Japan," he said curiously. "For what purpose would ninjas be in New York City?" Picking up the shuriken, he noted the unique symbol engraved into it. An idea struck him, and he quickly refocused on the console before him. "Cross reference this symbol with known ninja clans of the last century..." he mumbled as his hands furiously entered the search parameters.
It took some time—clans of ninjas being known for their secrets meant a lot of data was incomplete at best—but eventually he came across a story that gave him pause. Over fifteen years ago, a man named Yuuta Hamato was murdered in Tokyo wearing robes depicting the same symbol as the one on the shuriken. The story further stated that he had not been the only casualty of the Hamato family, his daughter-in-law, Shen, having been murdered days before Yuuta Hamato's body had been discovered. Yuuta's son, Yoshi, and his granddaughter, Miwa, had disappeared the night of her death, a fire burning his house to the ground. There were rumors of both incidents being the work of ninjas.
Had he not recognized the symbol immediately, TH-001 would have been skeptical of the claims, but instead he found himself searching for a sign that anyone related to Yuuta Hamato still lived. Most results gave him little hope, however upon seeking information about his son, it seemed that Yoshi Hamato had not only escaped Japan, but he had stayed in New York City itself. He had opened a bank account and rented an apartment for a few short months before seeming to vanish without a trace. It was noted that a small number of belongings were left behind, a large, unused aquarium left just outside his door for days having been what lead his landlord to investigate. Forcing access to Yoshi Hamato's bank records, TH-001 found that the last use of his credit card before suddenly draining his account was at a local pet shop.
He felt his breath catch in his throat. A human who held potential connections to both the symbol on the shuriken as well as a clan of ninjas had lived in New York City fifteen years ago, his final purchase a large tank perfect for keeping fish or even—
"Turtles." He murmured the single word in awe. There was nowhere near enough evidence for him to be convinced that he or any of the turtles he had come in contact with mere hours ago were indeed connected to this Yoshi Hamato, but the coincidences could not be ignored.
Reaching for his helmet, he quickly placed it back on his head. "Battle suit, play the recording of the mission to capture April O'Neil." At once, a video sprang to life on the inside of his visor, the footage beginning the moment he had stepped foot in the van and felt it jerk to life. As much as a part of him desperately wanted to pore over the quick views beyond the windshield as they drove to their destination, he forced himself to skip ahead until the moment he exited the van.
"Donnie!"
There it was. That name the orange one—Mikey—had been calling him. Listening to it now, he was unsurprised to find the owner of the voice the same as the one who had directly confronted him. Despite already being aware of their abilities, he watched in awe as the three turtles expertly dodged laser fire and struck back at their opponents, each fighting in a style reminiscent of the martial arts he had briefly studied in his younger years.
Finding a clear shot of the red one using his sai, he isolated the clip. "Battle suit, cross reference the designated footage with that of recordings of ninjutsu." A few moments passed before his search revealed that it had come up empty. Undeterred, he continued watching the scene from the mission unfold, finding himself involuntarily flinching as the one named Mikey ran directly up to the camera.
"We're your bros, dude. Splinter's been worried about you since forever! We all have! You belong with us!"
He paused the recording. Watching with mind undistracted by urgency, he felt as though seeing what could only be another turtle mutant's face directly in front of his own should have been unsettling. But that was not the case. Maybe it was because he knew to expect it, or perhaps his digging into Yoshi Hamato had instilled a tenuous hope in him that he could not recall ever having before. Whatever it was, as he looked into the turtle's eyes, into Mikey's eyes, he did not see some imposter.
He saw himself.
Snapping his thoughts back into focus, he analyzed what Mikey had said. "Bros"—a slang term meaning "brothers", male siblings. Family. He did not know who this "Splinter" was, and searching for the term in reference to ninja clans again proved fruitless, but according to this strange turtle, this "Donnie" had people who were worried about him. There was somewhere he belonged. And Mikey believed TH-001 to be said "Donnie".
With a steadying breath, he resumed the footage. Mikey again referred to him as his "bro", and while it was clear in the safety of his workstation that the other turtle was unarmed, his nunchaku stored away in his belt, TH-001 again flinched as a hand reached out as if to touch him. The look on Mikey's face as the camera jerked away made his heart clench and then plummet into his stomach as he watched his own hand grasp the orange masked turtle's arm, the pain from the electricity evident in his blue eyes.
He forced himself to keep watching as the red one screamed obscenities at him, his gaze on the blue one protecting April O'Neil. It did not take long before a longer, clearer clip was able to be isolated of the blue one's movements as he fought to protect the momentarily stunned red. Running that against footage of ninjutsu, he found himself unable to hold back a shiver when this time a match was found.
They were ninjas, presumably under a master named Splinter with the clan represented by the symbol of Yuuta Hamato. But they were also brothers, searching for one they had lost.
The rest of the footage revealed that the red one's name was likely "Raph", only the blue remaining a mystery. But as the recording came to a close, his camera was focused on someone other than the three turtles.
April O'Neil appeared to be valiantly trying not to cry or show weakness of any kind, a tactic he had employed much over his young life thus far. But the more he stared at her, the more he felt his stomach twist in knots. He had been the one to capture her. He had taken her from the life she knew and given her to the Kraang. It had seemed like there had been no choice at the time, but watching back over the footage, it was impossible to think that perhaps he had been wrong.
Ripping the helmet off his head, he tried his best to refocus. "Such research is unimportant," he muttered as he quickly swiped the disinfectant and began patting the previously neglected cut on his arm with more force than was necessary. "April O'Neil has been retrieved and transferred to the Kraang. The turtles were trying to stop the Kraang, therefore the turtles are enemies. TH-001 must now replenish lost energy in order to function at a suitable capacity..."
His words eventually trailed off as he attempted to sleep, but his brain would not shut down. Everything he had seen and learned that night kept replaying as if on loop. Tossing and turning, a fitful sleep finally overtook him, but it did not last long before he was awoken by alarms informing him that another day was beginning.
Given permission to repair his battle suit, he set to work on the task but found his mind again wandering. The distance from the events only made his curiosity even more insatiable, his thoughts needing a resolution he did not know if he was even capable of possessing. But if anyone would have his answers, it would be the Kraang.
"...suffered pain when last attempted. The Kraang do not tolerate disobedience..."
It would be dangerous. He had learned years ago that digging too deeply into things he was not meant to know could prove worse than fatal. But this was not about someone else. This was about himself. He knew the Kraang would have a file just for him alone, and with the enigma of the other turtles and any possible relation now threatening to suffocate him if he left it unsolved, he drew in a shaky breath as he reached for the console, keeping a firm clamp on his tongue.
TH-001's file was easy to find. It was not the most confidential information he had attempted to retrieve, but even so he took it slow and played it safe, making sure that the fact that he was the one accessing said file remained hidden. The latest information at the top, he scanned down past his years of engineering, past his time spent doing manual labor, and reached the point he knew he would eventually come to.
He had been a mutant for three years before he had shown signs of being more useful as a tool than an experiment. Swallowing the bile threatening to come up as he glanced over data filled with tests he was grateful he could not remember, he continued to skim the information until he had reached the very first entry.
TH-001 - Unknown species of ones known as "Turtles" from the planet known as "Earth". Specimen coated in an unquantified amount of mutagen after exposure to one known as a "Male" of the species known as "Humans" from the planet known as "Earth" (See: HR-001). Experiment accidental; performed in unstable conditions. Four additional test subjects lost (See: TH-002, TH-003, TH-004, HR-001).
His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest as he continued to read, the entry briefly detailing the so-called "experiment" taking place in what sounded like a dirty alleyway. There had been three other turtles and a human—a human whose DNA he now shared.
It had to be them. Mikey, Raph, the turtle in the blue mask, the Splinter they spoke of... he had been with them. He had been taken.
"Or left behind," he mumbled before remembering that speaking his every thought was not in his best interest at the moment.
A quick scan of the rest of the recommended files confirmed his suspicions. HR-001 had only one entry, but the rest had all been updated for merely the second time just last night.
"TH-001 is 'Donnie'..."
He had a hard time pinning down exactly how he felt about the revelation. On the one hand, nothing had really changed. He was still under the iron fist of the Kraang, trapped in a facility he had little hope of escaping—not that he had ever possessed the courage to make the attempt in the first place. And even if he did work up said courage now, there was nowhere for him to go. In fifteen years, the only sighting of the other turtles had occurred last night. Finding them again was improbable, and he found the possibility of his starving to death, being attacked by humans thinking him a monster, or winding up in a human facility for experimentation far more likely an outcome. Comparatively, his life as a loyal servant of the Kraang was the vastly more appealing option.
But despite all of that, simply knowing there were others out there like him—his brothers, his family—made their existence something he was unable to ignore. Even if Mikey's eyes grew as cold as the Kraang's for what he had done. Even if they cursed at him the way Raph had. Even if the blue one chased after him with his katana drawn. He knew he could never simply go back to being a mindless pawn, ignoring the consequences of his actions.
"If TH-001 is to attempt this," he whispered as he began searching for one last file, "there is one other that cannot be left behind. The mission was a success, and TH-001 is at fault. A human has been removed from a family and must be returned if the possibility still exists."
The file with April O'Neil's whereabouts proved surprisingly difficult to find, however. All of the information he had been provided with in reference to the human girl had simply referred to her by name, but there was no file that indicated such a name was anywhere else in their databases.
"The mission was completed successfully. How can no records of the target be found?"
Between digging into his own past, trying to find anything he could on April O'Neil's location, and keeping up appearances by working to repair his battle suit, it was not until late into the day that an unsettling idea occurred to him. April O'Neil must have a designation, and if it was proving this frustrating to locate, that information alone had to be highly classified. Mouth suddenly going dry, he willed his hands not to shake as he sought the one group of files he had sworn to never pry into again.
He was older, more cautious now, but the security on the files designated "HK" was of the highest order. The importance of the Kraang-human experiments could not be overstated. Had he not been so sure that his assumption was correct, he would have banished the theory from his mind right then and there, but instead the anxiety over what he was about to do grew. Suddenly overcome with the sensation that he was on the verge of signaling an army of Kraang droids to his location, he quickly donned his battle suit. The back had been given a quick patch job, the net had been replaced, and the entire thing had been fully recharged, but he had not yet completed the two drones that needed to be remade from scratch. If his time ran out, he would simply have to do without them.
"Keep calm. Concentrate. Focus..." He closed his eyes, attempting to quell the nausea bubbling inside of him, before opening them once more, now filled with nervous determination as his fingers raced across the console.
As soon as he accessed the files, his gaze flew over the data, searching for a helpful clue. There—file HK-012 had been updated just last night. It had to be her—April O'Neil. She was in a holding cell, but time was running out. She was being moved directly to the main Kraang headquarters in less than an hour, somewhere simply denoted as "TCRI". Knowing he would never have another chance, however, he could not help quickly skimming her file, needing to understand what about her was so vital to his superior's plans. He failed to hold back a gasp as the fate that awaited all should the Kraang succeed was revealed to him—with April O'Neil's DNA, they could perfect the mutagen, allowing them to not only terraform Earth into something closer to their own dimension but also turn every living being into near mindless creatures loyal solely to the Kraang. Death would be a mercy.
He had to get her out of here, no matter the consequences to himself. He doubted very much that he would be spared conversion once the mutagen was completed. There was nothing to hold him back now aside from the fear and insecurities programmed into his behavior from a very young age, programming he was determined to overcome.
Dashing out of the laboratory, he tried his best to hurry without appearing conspicuous. He did not often leave his workstation, especially in full battle armor, and he still could not help but worry that his unauthorized accessing of highly classified files had been detected. So as a small squadron of Kraang droids came marching towards him, it took all of his willpower to not immediately run away. Instead, with a shaky breath, he opened his mouth.
"TH-001 must test the repaired battle suit," he said as he approached them, voice a little louder and higher pitched than usual. "Additional space is required. Tests must be conducted safely so as to..."
A few of the droids kept their robotic, glowing eyes on him longer than usual, but as none stopped or questioned him, he hurried on, heart drumming so loudly he worried it might be heard above the ambient hum of energy that permeated the facility. An endless stream of lies and excuses for his walking the halls poured from his mouth as he wound his way through the corridors leading to the holding cells. When he at last reached his destination, he rushed over to the cell he was searching for and looked in through the small window. On a bench lining the wall sat April O'Neil, arms tightly hugging the knees drawn up to her chest.
"TH-001 has found April O'Neil," he mumbled, a moment of relief washing through him until her head jerked in his direction, blue eyes furious. He instinctually took a step back as she hopped to her feet and stormed toward the door.
"Let me out of here, you freak!" she cried, hands balled into tight fists as if she were going to punch him through the glass. "Take me home right now, or I'll—"
"TH-001 will let April O'Neil out," he said quickly, eyes darting around the corridor nervously. "April O'Neil must come with TH-001 before it is too late. The Kraang will—"
"Wait." His babbling stopped as the girl's terse voice cut him off. "'TH-001'? Is that you? Listen, I know I said to let me out, but how do you expect me to trust the giant... lizard thing... that put me in here not to just murder me on the spot?"
"TH-001 is a turtle," he muttered as he forced himself to focus on the door's control panel, "a turtle-human hybrid, to be exact. TH-001 was following the orders of the Kraang but did not want to. A different choice did not appear rational."
"And TH-001 has decided it's rational now, because...?" She crossed her arms, but her tone had softened a bit, releasing at least a fraction of the tension in his body.
With a soft hiss, the door slid open, seeming to startle April O'Neil as her captor now stood directly in front of her wearing full battle armor. Her words were biting, but her eyes held a nervousness he couldn't help but recognize from his own. He backed away, giving her space.
"Because if the Kraang get hold of April O'Neil's DNA, all of the inhabitants of Earth will become mindless followers of the Kraang," he said, unable to hold back a shudder as the words left his mouth. "Now come, TH-001 and April O'Neil must—"
But the girl was staring at him wide-eyed and unmoving. "My DNA? But... why would..."
It was in that moment that the lights began flashing red, an alarm suddenly blaring throughout the facility. TH-001 could feel the blood draining from his face in horror as his eyes darted around frantically for any sign of angry Kraang droids bearing down on them.
"No no no no no! April O'Neil—" Whipping his head around, he saw the girl still frozen in shock. There was no time for this. Reaching out a single finger, he touched her arm with the slightest zap of electricity that he could, causing her to jolt with a loud yelp and aim a frantic glare in his direction. "Come, now," he said, trying to hide his own panic. "TH-001 will keep April O'Neil safe. There is an exit in this direction. Follow TH-001."
After an excruciatingly long pause, she finally gave him a curt nod, but as she opened her mouth to speak, a now familiar voice cut her off.
"Donnie! We've been looking all over for you, dude!"
Unable to keep the shock from his face, TH-001 turned toward the voice. There at the end of the holding cell block were three mutant turtles, one wearing a wide grin while the other two glared at him, the coldness in their eyes not unlike the looks he had been receiving every day of his life thus far.