This is how you, young Dr. (y/n), fall in love with Donatello. An outbreak in New York has caused deathly mutants to run wild, and you are one of the fortunate few to survive. After being rescued from Shredder by 4 turtle brothers, you must team up...
"And now, the end is near as I face the final curtain. REGRETS, I'VE HAD A FEW, BUT NONE OF WHICH I'M CERTAI-"
"MIKEYYYYYY!!!"
BANG
CRASH
POooNG
"I guess karaoke isn't going so well for Mikey and Ralph," Donatello muttered under his breath.
You giggled lightly as you focus your microscope into view, "They do love their singing, don't they?"
Donnie smirked as he wrote a few things done in his notebook.
It had been what? 2, 3 weeks since you were rescued? The days had started to blur together. You were never able to recover your notes from Shredder's lab, and although Donnie pressed for you to at least attempt to retrieve them, you repeatedly refused and claimed you wanted to keep everyone safe. While this was true, the main reason was so that the tracker implanted in your arm didn't suddenly activate again. You tried to think of every which way to remove the blasted thing but couldn't up with a successful plan. You had even considered cutting off your arm, but given that you were in the midst of a desperate struggle to find the retromutagen formula, you doubt you would be very successful with one arm. The most rational solution was to cut it out, including the surrounding muscle and tissue so that the tracker isn't disturbed and suddenly releases a toxin into your blood stream. That of course, was going to sting like a mother-lover.
You sighed as you leaned backed in your chair, glancing over at Donnie. "Wanna hear a joke?"
He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "A joke? From Dr. (y/n)? It better be a good one."
With a crack of your knuckles and one throat-clearing "AHEM", you began.
"What do chemists call a benzene ring with iron atoms replacing the carbon atoms?"
A baffled look crossed the turtle's face. "Uh....I'm not really sure." He bent down to get the readings on a beaker as he spoke, "What?"
"....a ferrous wheel."
Donnie bit his lip hard to keep from laughing. "O-oh."
You smirked, wiggling your eyes playfully. "Oh come onnnnn, that one was pretty good!"
He chuckled, "Then I definitely don't want to hear your worst one. I think Mikey has rubbed off on you a tad too much"
"UGH." You let out another exasperated sigh as you fell back in your chair, "You're right, and I really hate myself for it."
Ouch!
You look down at your forearm, feeling a searing heat coming from the tracker. The sensation had been happening quite a lot lately, and you knew that it needed to come out soon. If left there, the tracker may begin to be rejected by your body. You guessed that the immunosuppressants had begun to fizzle out from it, and that mother nature was finally taking its course. The tracker would eventually rot out your arm.
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(Just look at that beautiful work of art. The benzene ring: such a devilishly clever idea. I'm thinking about doing a naming compound contest, so let me know if you guys would like to do that!)
~that night~
"(Y/n), a-are you sure about this? I don't know if it's sa-"
"Hush! You're going to wake up the others." You cautiously pulled the tray of steaming instruments from the sterilizer. The razor-sharp knife glinted in the cold overhead lights.
"You just need to stand watch, Striker. That's all. It'll be over before you know it."
He swallowed, beads of sweat already beginning to form on his forehead. It was clear that he didn't have a high tolerance for medical procedures.
"A-and you've done this before, right?"
You bit your lip as you began prepping the small table before you, "Well uh...not exactly. But I've seen my brother, James, do it lots of times! Don't sweat it."
Striker swayed uneasily as he watched you lay out the instruments, "I would feel more comfortable if Donatello was he-"
"Donatello isn't going to know! He doesn't need something else to constantly fret and worry over." You said aggravatedly as you scrubbed your hands furiously in the sink, making sure to go up to your elbows with the harsh soap. "I just want this to be a little procedure." You patted your hands dry and slipped on your gloves then mask.
You sat down and began swabbing your arm with alcohol then iodine. You were about to cut a considerable chunk out of your arm, and the environment wasn't ideal, but the lab was the most sanitary place to try. Everywhere else had Mikey and Ralph germs smeared about. Carefully, you dotted out the area you were going to cut with a marker pen.
"(y/n), please be careful."
You looked up at Striker with a small smile, "I always am. Just remember, if something goes wrong, get help immediately. This thing is laced with arsenic, and with even just the smallest disruption it'll release. At that point, time is critical."
He nodded again, his head bobbing up and down like a little bobblehead.
"And Striker, thanks for being here."
He gave a half-crooked smile, trying to hide his nervousness. "Hey, I'm always going to be there for you."
With that reassurance, you picked up your scalpel. You tried to steady your nerves before preceding to gently press on your (s/c) skin. OUCH! You bit your lip hard. You had literally just scratched the surface and it was already stinging. There was no anesthetic. You needed to feel where the tracker was and make sure that you weren't cutting too deep or hitting bone. This was going to be a LONG process.
Striker noticed the pained expression on your face and quickly stepped forward, "Are you alright?!"
You nodded, "Y-yeah."
You furrowed your brow and pressed down deeper.
SON OF A MOTHER-LOVER BUTTCHEEK ON A STICK MONKEY'S UNCLE!! THAT HURT!
A series of painful cuts later, you had the circle of tissue surrounding the tracker almost done. Just a few more cuts and you were home free.
"A-almost there!" Your hand shook slightly as you continued. You had to admit, doing this on yourself was not for the faint of heart.
"Just...a couple mo-"
Clink!
You had sliced through to the tracker.
CRAP
CRAP
No! You had been so careful and then just one mistake ruined everything!
"(y/n)??" Striker began running towards you. No, away from you. He was going further away?
"Just keep your eyes open!"
Ah, it was arsenic.
Arsenic.
It's a stupid name for a drug so potent.
~BLACK~
~~~~~~~~
Hey all you strangers. It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, I'm deep into my degree of Medical Molecular Biology, and it has been such a ride! I hope everyone has been staying safe with everything going on. Stay home and be smart! I should be uploading again soon, as I have found myself to be suddenly full of free time.
