Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

Belong to the Devil

You belong to the devil

You would fit in so perfectly

From your head all the way to your feet

Yeah, the devil is all that you need

Not me

***

"I've told you time and time again- my name is Ferrall."

"I'm not stupid." 

"Then why do you insist on call me- that."

"Cause you're a Nutjob." 

"I am the most brilliant mind in all of the mafia!" 

"Not that you got much competition."

"A prodigy!"

"See, the thing about that is, I don't care."

"Enough!" Two fists slam down on the desk where he's been trying and failing to analyze the blood that he'd so rudely stolen from his current captive a third-fourth-fifth? time, and Raph raises an eye ridge from where he rests his head on his shoulder. "Anyone ever tell you, you got anger issues? Maybe you should see someone for that. Hear it helps." 

"I will not have my intellect challenged by a mutant." Nutjob hisses as he leaves his chair, the force and the wheels rolling it away from his desk. "You are here to learn your place!" 

"And you're a pretty sucky teacher." Raph cracks his neck, uncomfortable from remaining in one position for so long. "How 'bout you tell me something I don't know." 

His head spins with the motion, so he rests it against the cushioned surface, wondering why he can't be laid flat. At least then he can have the sleep that his body craves. Snore straight through this insane nerd work. 

Nutjob clenches his fists and seethes, and Raph smirks drowsily. Give him enough time and he can crack any calm exterior. He'd had enough experience messing with Leo to learn all the tricks. Aim for the insecurities and they'll start taking everything personally. So much natural skill that he doesn't even have to try. Honestly, it's too easy.

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to find a way to shut you up." 

"You do that." Raph wonders if he's going to run pouting from the room again, but he only scowls and turns back to his experiment. 

Raph has no idea what he's doing, and now he has an appreciation for Donnie's nonsensical rambles under his breath. At least he'd be able to follow along a bit, and he'd like to know what Nutjob's doing with his blood. Annoyingly enough, his captor has been less than forthcoming with any information.

...How long has he been there?

His brows furrow as he realizes that it feels like an eternity, but that can't be realistic. A couple hours, maybe? Nutjob had left and entered the room a few times, but there's no clock anywhere in the mad scientist's lab, so tracking time isn't exactly a part of the deal, even if it had occurred to him to do it. Had his brothers found Donnie? Are they okay?

As much as he hates the idea of being rescued like some pathetic damsel, he'd rather just get out of there already. Is Leo taking his sweet time with a rescue plan and his dorky ninja-stealth routine, or are they still trying to find him?

He squints at one of the circular lights. Huh. Actually. This doesn't look like the hotel's rundown-building decor. Where even is he?

He feels like he's already had this debate with himself, but his world is fuzzy around the edges and trying to remember anything is way more of a struggle than he'd signed up for. Not that he signed up for this. He just wanted to hit someone; not become a mad scientist's guinea pig.