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The Pain Game	By : hummerhouse Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 4704 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.

Chapter List
- 1-The Pain Game
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39 Final
- 8
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            With Raphael out of his sight, Mikey was better able to concentrate on the task at hand. It helped that he was paired up with Donatello, who wasn’t as hard core as Leonardo or as rash as a certain hot headed brother tended to be.
            Since neither Mikey nor Don were as stealthy as their leader, they took a little longer in getting to the warehouse than he would have. Being the perfectionist that Leo was, the younger turtles knew he would have accounted for that.
            There were no buildings near the warehouse that would have made their accessing the roof a much simpler proposition, so the brothers approached the structure from the water side of the pier. This process involved lowering themselves off of the edge of the pier in order to grasp the planks and pull themselves hand over hand until they were past the parked cars and guards.
            Mikey lifted his body just enough so that he could see over the planks and then raked the area with his eyes. Verifying that all of the activity was centered at the entrance to the warehouse, he boosted himself onto the pier. Don did likewise, landing right next to him.
            Neither wasted any time in crossing the open space and flattening themselves against the side of the warehouse. A deep male voice coming from that direction droned on, the speaker barely taking a breath, as though the speech he delivered was well-rehearsed.
            “That’s not Hun,” Mikey whispered.
            “No doubt one of his underlings,” Don said, his voice low as well. “He might not even be here.”
            “Yeah, now that he’s building his own empire, he’s learning not to take chances,” Mikey responded. “Roof?”
            “Roof,” Don acknowledged.
            Mikey held the handles of one of his nunchucks, spreading the chain between them so that Don could use it as a springboard. Once Don was on the roof, he lowered his Bo staff down to Mikey and then pulled the younger turtle up.
            The roof top was flat, but there were several skylights built into it, spaced at even intervals. Don and Mikey split up in order to peer down through each of them, looking for one that would give them the best view of the merchandise being sold.
            “Psst!” Don hissed, catching Mikey’s attention and waving him over to a skylight near the back of the warehouse.
            Mikey ran to join him, kneeling down so that he could get a better look inside. The glass was a little foggy, but they didn’t have difficulty seeing a large man wearing a jacket with the Purple Dragon logo stitched onto it leading the six bidding gang members around to the back of a semi-trailer truck.
            “Where are their drivers?” Mikey asked.
            Don leaned his head down close to the glass, almost touching it as he looked back towards the warehouse entrance. “They’re standing at the opening,” he answered. “Either they were told to stay put or they don’t trust their backs to each other.”
            “I only see two guards with the truck,” Mikey said. “Looks like they’re packing AK-47’s.”
            Heaving a sigh of relief, Don said, “Only the one truck. That will make things much easier for us.”
            “You drive,” Mikey said. “It might have to be hot wired and you’re faster at it than I am.”
            “Right,” Don said, his eyes on the gang members below. One by one they were entering the back of the trailer to inspect the merchandise being sold, each of them wearing their best poker face as they exited.
            “They’re all gonna bid,” Mikey said, observing their lack of expression. “Whatever’s in there must be good. That’s exactly the same look those poker guys on TV get on their faces when they have an awesome hand.”
            “I’ll have to yield to your expertise on that one,” Don said. “I’m more worried about where the bidding is going to take place. If they stay where they are, we’re going to have a heck of a time stealing that truck.”
            “Keep your eyes on them,” Mikey said. “I’ll give Leo his sit rep.”
            Tipping his head down towards the mini-microphone that was attached to his hoodie, Mikey gave the members of his task force a detailed account of what he and Don were seeing. Before he was finished, Don lifted a hand to get his attention.
            “Hang on,” Mikey told the others and then looked up at Don. “What?”
            “Everyone but the two guards are walking back to the entrance,” Don said excitedly. “I’d say give them five minutes to get into the bidding and then we can make our move.”
            Mikey relayed that information to the team, receiving an affirmative reply from Leo. He turned back to see Don extracting a glass cutting implement from his bag of tricks.
            “The skylight is locked,” Don explained, cutting a hole in the glass large enough for him to get his hand through. The hasp snapped back with only a small sound and then Don proceeded to tilt the panel open, doing so very slowly to make sure it didn’t squeak.
            Together the pair dropped through the opening, landing silently on the beams directly above the trailer. They could hear the Purple Dragon representative talking again as he relayed the rules for the bidding process and then giving the gang leaders the amount that would make for an acceptable first bid.
            Don’s head was swiveling as his eyes surveyed every inch of the warehouse’s interior.
            “What’cha doing? Looking for cameras?” Mikey asked in a whisper.
            “Yes,” Don answered shortly.
            “I’ll bet Hun stuffed everything into one truck to make it easier for him to steal it back, don’t you think so?” Mikey asked.
            “Probably,” Don said as he contemplated the guards.
            Mikey frowned at Don’s monosyllabic answers. “If I was Hun I’d have a tracking device on the truck, just in case my guys lost sight of it. Where do you think it is?”
            “Cargo area,” Don murmured.
            “How are you gonna deal with it?” Mikey asked.
            “Jammer,” Don told him, digging into his bag and extracting a small scanning device.
“You’re a great conversationalist, Donny,” Mikey said sarcastically.
“I’m trying to focus, Mikey,” Don replied.
“Talking helps me focus,” Mikey muttered.
“That explains a lot,” Don said as he zipped his duffel bag closed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mikey asked in a huff.
Don came up from his crouch, preparing to jump. “Let’s save that talk for another time.”
The pair leaped lightly to the top of the trailer and then Don crept towards the back, which was still open. Mikey kept his eyes on the two guards, who were both facing the warehouse entrance, oblivious to the activity on the truck behind them.
It took Don a little over three minutes to locate the tracking device, isolate the frequency it was transmitting on, and to jam it. As soon as he was done, Don silently closed the trailer doors and slid around to the end where the guards were stationed. Placing his bag on the ground, he caught Mikey’s attention and raised his thumb.
Mikey acknowledged Don’s signal with a nod and then pointed to the guard who was almost directly beneath him. Lifting a hand in the air, he lowered his fingers in a noiseless countdown.
As soon as his third finger came down, so did Mikey, knocking the guard out with one well-placed blow. At the exact same moment Don launched himself at the second guard, taking him out just as effectively.
By the time Don snatched up his bag, Mikey had the door to the truck’s cab open. Mikey scooted over to the passenger side after first making a quick check for keys in the sun visors. As Don climbed in beside him, Mikey grabbed his brother’s duffel to move it out of the way.
With his eyes on the entrance to make sure that no one had noticed their activity, Mikey reported in to the rest of his team. While he did that, Don yanked the ignition cover off the steering wheel and located the starter and power wires.
“Leo says they’ve taken out any possible pursuit cars, including the ones around the door,” Mikey relayed in a whisper. “He says Nobody has already started a ruckus between two of the waiting gangs that’s about to spill over to the rest of them. Time to get moving Donny.”
Don stripped the plastic from the ends of the wires, glanced up at Mikey, and then touched them together.
The ignition turned over with a loud rumble and Don swiftly tucked the wires out of the way so they wouldn’t touch him while he drove. There was a loud shout from the warehouse entrance and then Don put the truck into gear and hit the accelerator.
As the truck barreled towards the entrance, each of the gang members dove aside. The Purple Dragon auctioneer did just the opposite, jumping out in front of the approaching truck.
“Donny . . . !” Mikey exclaimed, grabbing the dashboard to brace himself.
Rather than applying the brakes, Don hit the horn. The auctioneer’s eyes widened when he saw that one of the hated turtles was behind the wheel and that he was obviously not going to stop. Screaming at the top of his lungs, the auctioneer leaped out of the way, tumbling head over heels as the truck’s bumper grazed his foot.
Just then Mikey heard the sound of motorcycle engines coming to life from somewhere inside the warehouse. Sticking his head out of the window, he saw four bikes pull out from a partitioned area far to one side.
“The Dragons had an ambush ready!” Mikey yelled.
“We can’t outrun them,” Don warned.
The front of the truck was almost to the warehouse entrance. Mikey’s eyes darted up and an idea hit him.
“Stay on course!” Mikey called back to Don and then opened the door, clambering out of the cab, onto the roof of the truck, and then up onto the trailer.
Running towards the back end of the trailer, Mikey saw that the motorcycles were closing in on them. The cab of the truck cleared the warehouse entrance and Mikey sprang upwards, grabbing the bottom of the overhead door.
Mikey’s body weight started the door rolling down. He held on until the back end of the trailer was almost outside of the warehouse and then swung his legs forward before jerking back again and releasing his hold on the door.
Following the momentum of his swing, Mikey curled in on himself and flipped through the air, landing on top of the moving trailer. The warehouse door slammed to the ground within inches of the trailer’s bumper and all four of the motorcyclists crashed into the door.
“Ha ha! Take that!” Mikey shouted, dancing a jig on the trailer’s roof.
From his mini-microphone Mikey heard Nobody ask incredulously, “How does he do that?”
Mikey was about to respond with ‘because I’m the best’ when he heard Raph’s voice.
“We have no idea,” Raph said. There was a touch of pride in his tone that didn’t go unnoticed by Mikey, along with a note of something that sounded very much like possessiveness. But then, Mikey acknowledged to himself, it could be him daydreaming again.
From his spot atop the speeding trailer truck, Mikey saw gang members streaming onto the docks behind them, all engaged in hand to hand brawling. He chuckled as he wondered what his brothers and Nobody had done to get that fight started.
There was still a light mist falling and Mikey turned to make his way back to the dry warmth of the truck’s cab. The truck was passing a small group of outbuildings scattered along the pier and Mikey had taken about four steps when the roar of motorcycles caught his attention.
Jerking his head around, Mikey saw two more motorcycles pull out from one of the small buildings, the riders both wearing Purple Dragon jackets.
“We’ve got more company Donny!” Mikey shouted.
Anticipating some evasive maneuvering from Donatello, Mikey decided being on top of the damp and slippery trailer wasn’t advantageous. Before he could continue on to the cab though, something whizzed past his face and then Mikey heard the sharp report of a gun.
Spinning into a crouch, Mikey saw that it wasn’t the motorcycle riders who were shooting at him, but a passenger inside a high speed boat that was keeping pace with them alongside the pier.
The side of the boat sported a distinctive dragon emblem, which told Mikey they were in collusion with the motorcyclists. Another shot rang out, this one smashing into the wind deflector on the cab.
“Mike, get in here!” Don yelled into his microphone.
“Without getting shot?” Mikey responded before flattening himself on the roof as more shots were fired.
Mikey heard the motorcycles pull up alongside the truck and the shooting stopped. Crawling to the edge of the trailer, Mikey looked over and saw that one of the bikers was trying to catch hold of the grab handle so that he could pull himself onto the truck.
Don saw it too. Jerking the steering wheel to the right he forced the biker away but as soon as the truck straightened, the Dragon tried again.
Even though he couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the truck, Mikey guessed that the second rider was trying the same thing. Don began whipping the truck from side to side, trying to shake the bikers off of him. Unfortunately, the maneuver was making it hard for Mikey to maintain his grip.
As he clung to the roof, Mikey caught a glimpse of Don’s reflection in the side mirror. His brother looked grim, his eyes darting from the path in front of him to the biker trying to climb on board. Once more the driver side biker crept close, reaching out for the grab handle.
Don and Mikey’s eyes met in the mirror. Tightening his grip on the roof’s edge, Mikey said, “Get him Donny.”
As the biker’s fingers started to close on the handle, Don yanked the steering wheel to the left. The cab slammed into the motorcycle and the biker made a frantic grab for the handlebars, but the machine was already wobbling out of control.
The motorcycle careened away from the truck and crashed into a maintenance shed. Then Don forced the truck back on course with a sharp twist to the right to avoid hitting a parked forklift.
It was that move that caused Mikey to lose his grip. With a shout, he slid along the trailer’s roof and over the back end.
Mikey’s scrabbling fingers caught hold of the metal lip above the trailer’s doors and that’s when he saw that the bar lock had shimmied loose and the doors were both flapping open.
Dangling over the back end of the trailer, Mikey stuck out a foot to stop one of the doors from smacking into him. Holding on one handed, Mikey grabbed the closest swinging door and pulled it closed, using his body to keep it in position. The truck twisted to one side again and Mikey was nearly thrown loose, but he dug his toes into the door lock to brace himself.
As soon as the truck began to straighten, Mikey heard the second motorcycle coming closer. Peering over his shoulder, he saw the biker pulling in behind him. Dissuaded from his attempt to climb into the cab, the biker had decided on a different course of action and come in from the back. The only problem was that Mikey was already there.
Once more the occupants of the speed boat started firing at the cab of the truck. Ignoring the biker for the moment, Mikey concentrated on getting his hand on the trailer’s other door, knowing he had to close it before any of the trailer’s contents began to slide out.
            “Mikey where are you?” Don’s voice was edged with anxiety and Mikey knew it was because his brother could no longer see him.
            Before Mikey could answer, another voice cut in. “Keep it straight Brainiac, I’ve got the goofball.”
            Daring a glance back, Mikey’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of Raphael bearing down on them. The hot head looked magnificent; his muscular frame bent over the bike, the black duster whipping out behind him to uncover taut green thighs.
            With a gasping breath, Mikey managed to catch the second door before it smacked into his head. Securing it in place, Mikey grasped the bar lock and shoved it into the lugs, making sure that the handle was in the locked position this time.
            As he was doing that, the biker made a grab for Mikey’s leg. The young turtle felt the man’s fingers graze the back of his thigh and automatically kicked at the groping hand. The man pulled his hand away and then tried again as Mikey struggled to hang onto the truck.
            Mikey could feel his fingers slipping as rivulets of rain water began to collect inside the metal lip he was clinging to. Looking back, Mikey saw Raph put on a sudden burst of speed to zoom up right behind the Purple Dragon.
            The Dragon saw Raph coming and lunged frantically at Mikey just as Raph clipped the back tire on his motorcycle. The bike immediately hurtled sideways but the Dragon managed to snag Mikey’s ankle first.
            Mikey was violently pulled loose from the trailer and sent flying into the air. The Dragon lost his hold on Mikey as his bike began to flip over, screeching loudly when it sailed off the pier and collided with the speed boat.
            The boat’s engine burst into flame upon contact with the heavy bike and then both the bike and boat exploded.
            From the corner of his eye Mikey saw the explosion and then his body hit the pier, carapace first. Unable to control his momentum, Mikey bounced once, his head connecting with a wooden stanchion before he was catapulted into the water.
            Michelangelo lost consciousness as he began to sink.
TBC……………..
- 8
- 9
- 10
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The Pain Game