#disaster dimension

Grays and pinks swirled above his head, a sky that could only be considered truly empty. Stars seemed tossed about haphazardly, never forming a true constellation, as though designed to create a sense of being unfathomably lost wherever one looked. It was all flat in one way or another. Flat colors, flat metal drifting by, flat out nothing. There was nothing here. No memories, no hope, no life. At least, not what Donnie would consider true life. He hated these colors. Hated how they seemed to blend together to form an ugly tone of purplish mauve. Grays and pinks and purple. Swirling. Repeating endlessly. A sky that could only be empty. 

Donatello was cold, which was a most unpleasant sensation. He was always cold now, but more often than not, he had the comfort of Leo beside him. The warmth from his brother’s electric ninpō, burning with confidence, always grounded him within this hellish residence. Donnie was sure the feelings were reciprocated in turn by his blue-clad brother, but Leo was not here. He was far off, distracting Prime while Donnie searched for pieces to repair his own prosthetic amidst the wreckage of mechs. The eye had been on the fritz for a time, flickering in and out while causing Leo great distress. He’d nearly chopped off Donnie’s head in a half-conscious bout of panic, which was the wakeup call they’d both needed to get about fixing it. Donnie knew how his brother felt about the choice of prosthetic, but there could be no debate about Donatello’s need for depth perception in the Prison Dimension. 

The softshell willed one of the spider arms anchored into the stones surrounding his location to propel him closer to the face of a smaller mech. It was clearly built for a Krang about the size of a small horse, not a Prime, as was evident by the wilted figure entombed in the little seat, jaw slack and teeth ever so slowly drifting from the jaw like receding glaciers. The exo-suit, as a result, was shabby and underwhelming. Perhaps a few years ago Donnie would have marvelled at the ingeniousness of the tech before him and thrust himself into discovering what made it tick. Maybe even trying to replicate it. Coming up with plans on how to better his brother's lives with it, perhaps even bettering the world.

Now, however, he was cocking a faded brow and scoffing at the pathetic handiwork. The joints were nothing more than basic interlocks, not to mention this one did not have individual fingers, teeth, or toes. The tail was short, had no blade at the end, and where a face should be was just a brick of metal with an eye in the center. This Krang was a subspecies, perhaps, or just at the bottom of the totem pole.

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“It’s just me.” The voice was deep and crackling, edged with both irritation and exhaustion. Unmistakable. Leo could feel the humming of his twin’s fixed mind, the way it twitched in every possible direction but never deviated from its set path. 

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and his shoulders sagged with pent-up energy. 

Donnie reached his side and crouched down to make eye contact with him (or at least eye contact through the red shielding of his helmet) and began checking Leo’s pulse. Leo felt content to sag into his brother’s arm and return to his well-deserved rest. 

“‘M sorry…” His voice felt too thick in his throat. It barely managed to pass his lips before he recognized what he had said. 

Donnie paused for a moment. Leo couldn’t quite make out what his twin’s scar-ridden face was doing beneath that mask he wore, but Donnie’s mind was loud enough for him to understand perfectly what was being said.

“Didn’t lose it on purpose…” Leo mumbled through his dry tongue, “Fell off… Got smashed er somethin’ I dunno…”

Donnie huffed in irritation beneath his helmet, but continued straightening the wounded ankle, beginning to wrap it with torn fabrics already soaked in grime and crusted blood. Reusing bandages had become the strategic choice. They needed everything they could get.

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