Michelangelo curled up in a dark corner of the basement, stripped of everything that made him himself. His nunchucks, his orange bandana, the bandages and protections he always wore. He felt naked, vulnerable, without his identity. Tears pooled in his eyes as the words of his father, Splinter, echoed in his mind: "The surface world isn't always kind to what it doesn't understand. Humans can be cruel, even to those who only want to do good."

"Why didn't I listen to you, Sensei?" Mikey thought. He missed his brothers, he missed the lair, the laughter and jokes they used to share. Now, he was trapped in the hands of a human who saw him as an experiment, not a person, not the Mikey who always tried hard to see the positive side of things.

The sound of the door opening brought Mikey out of his thoughts. He looked up in fear, his body shaking slightly. There he was, the man who had captured him, his "owner" as he liked to call himself.

"Are you behaving, turtle?" the human asked, not even bothering to hide his contempt. "Don't worry, soon you won't have to worry about talking. I'll take that away from you too."

Fear shot through Mikey. They would take away his voice, his ability to communicate, to be himself. He couldn't allow it. How would you take away my voice... my laugh...? he thought in terror. He had always been the brother who talked non-stop, the one who cracked jokes to cheer others up. If they took that away from him, there would be nothing left of Mikey.

"I won't talk... I won't say anything, I promise" he said in a broken voice, trying to sound submissive. He would beg if necessary. He just wanted to keep what little of his identity he had left. Although now, his usual joy had disappeared, leaving only a sadness that consumed him.

Why did life have to be so cruel to him just for being a mutant turtle? Why did he have to suffer so much simply for existing? Only the emptiness of loneliness remained, without his brothers, without his laughter.