Project Zero (Raph × OC)

Routine

When we got to the housing building, I was put in the same soundproofed room, with padded white walls streaked with blood and mutagen.

Under the padding, the walls where made of germanium and lead, making me incapable of using my skills to affect anything outside.

I settled into the one clean corner and the padding squished, adjusting as I lay on my side. The entire room reeked of blood and chemicals, and I shivered at the cold. I wanna go home. I thought, blinking away tears as I fell into a sleep plagued by nightmares.

Six AM: A loud, annoying buzzer woke me up, and a breakfast slop was pushed through a slot. I miss Michelangelo's cooking.

Six fifteen to seven thirty: A test to determine my IQ and intellectual growth. I wanna hear Donatello's trivia.

Seven thirty to eleven: Injections, pills, and surgeries to make me stronger. It hurts! It hurts! I thought, struggling against the straps binding me to the table.

Eleven to three PM: Rigorous battles against other mutants to see who's stronger, and where our genetic makeup needs adjusting.

I hate the fights. I stood in a concrete room, the floor red with dried blood as a cage was lowered in front of me, and a towering cow mutant came out.

She took one look at me and charged. I raised my hand to her form and made a sudden fist. My nails dug into my palm and the cow mutant froze. Her body compressed until it popped, blood and grisle showering down. All the fights had the same mind numbing result, until it was eleven.

Three to three ten: A freezing cold shower as I watched blood flow down the drain.

Three ten to five thirty: More surgeries and pills and needles.

Five thirty to six: Dinner. A grey, tasteless, nutrition bar.

Six to eight: I was left in the padded room, wondering about the turtles.

Eight: Lights out. If you don't sleep, or pretend to, electrocution until you're an inch from death, knocked out, burnt, and bleeding.