34Disclaimer: I don't own any turtles, nor do I make a profit.
A/N: So this little drabble has been sitting on my computer for over a year now, finished sans 100 or so words. Wouldn't you know it, one midnight writing session and ta da! It's done. It isn't my favorite, but it was definitely fun to write. XD
I have three other drabbles in the same state, just waiting to be finished, so hopefully I'll have more to post soon.
I hope you enjoy it!
Word count: 808
Rivalry
For as long as Don could remember, Raphael had always had a rivalry with someone. In the beginning it had been with Mikey, the two youngest turtles would compete in everything, from who could eat dinner the fastest to who could cause the most trouble and not get caught. He and Leonardo forged such a fierce rivalry between each other, that it wasn't a wonder why they could never find a moment's peace in the lair.
But Donatello?
No...
And even if, how did it escalate this far?
Critical eyes fell to the emerald mass across from him; at the hunched shoulders and steady amber gaze that matched his own. Neither of the turtles dared move.
Don just couldn't believe he was in this situation. Particularly with Raphael.
"Yer move, brainiac," he growled dangerously low. Raph knew he had his brother cornered.
There wasn't a chance of this ending well.
Donatello shifted, his palms sweaty, his gaze darting for an escape or distraction. No luck. Not even his other brothers could help him now.
"Runnin' out of time there..." Teeth glistened behind a sinister smile.
"Hold on, Raph, let's be logical about this—"
"Would ya quit stalling already, I ain't got all night." His fingers flinched towards his weapons, the tips glistening like the sweat collecting on Don's skin. "If you don't finish this, I will. Now make a damn move."
Silence fell with the final word. It stretched across the room like duct tape over a scream, oppressive and sticky. Ripping it off was going to hurt.
Maybe if I just lay down my—
"No way around it, Donnie. C'mon, you're smart enough ta know that."
In the distance, a clock stomped the purple-clad turtle's final moments into dirt. How soon it would be scattered over his grave.
Shell, where had he gone wrong?
Tick, Tock.
He reached for his weapon, the last in his arsenal, and took a breath; let it out as his eyes swept towards his brother in a last, pleading look.
Tick, Tock.
Amber eyes narrowed. Olive hands shook.
Tick,
Don made his move.
Tock,
And Raphael made his.
The weapons connected and clattered. A final exhale rattled from crushed lungs and through clenched teeth. Knees struck concrete.
The last thing Don's wide eyes saw before they fell was the battlefield, the evidence of his demise strewn starkly for all to see.
"Raph," the defeated gasped. "You—you—"
"Say it," the victor taunted.
Disbelief kicked the genius in the head, the gut, lower still. His tongue, thick and tasting of blood, flicked out wordlessly. What would the others say? How could this happen? How could Raph do this to him?
Just as the purple-clad turtle opened his mouth again, moist this time with bitter acceptance, a sudden shadow cast itself over the battlefield like a setting sun.
Disappointment weighed into seven sleep slurred words. "Are you two still playing that game?"
Raphael slouched back in his chair, grinning up at Leonardo with the glint of a loon. "Bro, it ain't much of a game at this point."
Don didn't look up, instead his hands riffled notes beneath his hung head. "Where did I go wrong?"
Onyx eyes flickered to where Don knelt, braced on the table with a once untarnished record of wins now broken. "You realize it's two in the morning, right?" Leo frowned at his brothers.
"Where did I go wrong?" Again, the words waltzed across the board between the players, wallowed in the pieces that spelled his humiliation.
Donatello's record wasn't the only thing broken, it seemed.
Deciding to drag his victory to the breakfast table, instead of into the night, Raphael rose with a laugh and lumbered laboriously past the leader on a pair of crutches. Once he vanished up the stairs, the remaining brothers shared a stare over the blue couch.
"Leo, where did I go wrong?"
Said turtle quirked an eye ridge. "You taught a bored bedridden Raphael how to play chess, Donnie. I think that speaks for itself."
Don shook his head. "Chess is a game of strategy. I've been studying the game for years, developing plays and contingency plays and—and—There has to be more of an explanation for this!"
"Maybe some sleep will help?" Leo suggested, eyeing his brother like one might a mad scientist.
"Right." The younger rubbed a palm over his reddened face. "You're right. In the morning this will all make sense. This was all probably caused by a minor miscalculation; something as trivial as a misplaced rook."
Satisfied, Leo headed for his own bed. But paused with a chuckle halfway up the steps. "Well, that, and Raph bribed Mikey to switch your coffee to decaf."
For several seconds, Donatello didn't move. His mind reeled with the very thought... his empty mug tipped back to stare him in the face. And with an inhale of long gone coffee, he roared.
"Raphael, I want a rematch!"
A/N: Thanks so much for reading!
Reviews are very much appreciated and are always inspiring!
Cheers! your Red Writing Rebel.
P.S. NIU has finally been updated! TLTOS is fast approaching the same fate. And progress is being made on WMB as well. Eep, I'm back, baby! XD