Chapter Text
Chapter 3
Darkness swallowed Endeavour Morse whole.
Not the gentle dark of nightfall or the familiar shadows of Oxford’s narrow lanes—but something thicker, heavier, alive. It wrapped around him as he ran, long crimson-red metal boots pounding against stone, breath tearing from his lungs in ragged, broken gasps.
He didn’t know where he was going.
He only knew he had to get away, far away from everything.
Away from Thursday’s voice.
Away from the turtles’ staring eyes.
Away from the reflection in that shattered window.
Away from himself what he had became.
The alley spat him out into a deserted street, then another, then down a narrow stairwell slick with damp and moss. He barely registered the turnings. His body moved on instinct alone, shadows stretching and folding to clear his path, doors unlocking themselves with a shuddering groan as darkness seeped into their seams.
He didn’t tell it to do that.
That was the worst part.
Morse burst into an abandoned warehouse near the river—high ceilings, broken windows, the smell of rust and rot thick in the air. The door slammed behind him with a force that rattled the walls. Dust cascaded from the rafters in soft, dark waves.
He staggered forward two step, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
His knees hit the concrete hard enough to jar his teeth. His hands followed—hands that no longer looked like his own. Long, black claws scraped against the floor, sending sparks skittering across the dark.
Morse stared at them like they belong to someone else, like they weren't a part of his own body, like they were foreign.
His breath hitched.
Morse( whispered): No, nonono..
His voice echoed wrong—too deep, layered with something that wasn’t him.
His chest tightened. His heart hammered against his ribs like it was trying to escape. He dragged his hands back as if they belonged to a monster, curling his fingers tight, nails biting into his palms.
The pain barely registered. And even if he felt it, right then it felt good, reminding him that a part of him was still present in a way.
He laughed—a short, broken sound that shattered into a sob halfway through.
Morse: This isn’t real. This is shock. Hallucination. This must be a nightmare, some kind of hallucination caused by mutagen.
He tried to cling to control, logic. To be rational.
Lies. All where lies, and he knew it too well.
The shadows along the walls stirred.
They leaned closer, stretching like curious fingers, pooling at his feet.
You’re safe here.
The thought slithered through his mind, uninvited.
You're one of us.
You're our master.
You became a monster.
Morse's jaw clenched so hard that his jagged teeth gnashed. He pressed his palm to his eyes in an attempt to stop the hot tears that run down his cheeks. He failed miserably.
He was a monster.
He was dangerous.
He was unlovable.
Morse crawled and stopped near a wall, curling on himself as his back leaned against the nearby decayed bookshelf. His arms wrapped around his knees, his head resting on his arms.
He had lost everything. He lost his humanity, his life. If Fancy would have seen him, the poor kid would have cried for Morse. If Jim would have seen him, he would have been sad. But If Fred Thursday or Cameron would have seen him....
Morse refused to finish his thought. He tried to stop crying, he wipped the tears from his eyes. He even tried to stand up, leaning on the wall beside him. His long, slender and clawed fingers brushed againt the harsh, slighlty peeled paint, until they grazed something cold, metallic. A frame. A mirror.
The Fire Guardian took one look in the dirty glass of the mirror and wanted to cry. His beautiful blue eyes and lips were pitch black, while black veins spread across his cheeks and neck. His hands were covered in black veins and with his fingers ended in black long nails. He wasn't a human-elf hybrid anymore.
He was a demon.
Morse screamed and shattered the glass with his fist before he collapsed to his knees, sobs escaping his mouth and making his body tremble.
His scream was raw, animal, torn from somewhere deep in his chest—and brought his fist down again, and again, until the world fractured into sound and pain and splintering stone.
His shoulders shook violently. Tears streamed down his face—hot, burning tracks that smoked faintly where they hit the floor. He pressed his forehead to the concrete, claws digging grooves into the surface as his body curled inward, trying to fold itself small enough to disappear.
Morse(choked): I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—God, I didn’t—
Images flashed behind his eyes.
Mikey’s wide, baby blue terrified stare.
The canister shattering.
Thursday’s voice breaking as he shouted his name.
A voice: Look at me.
His reflection in the window—black eyes, too many teeth, something monstrous staring back.
A whimper escaped Morse.
Morse( whispered, like a prayer): I’m a detective. I’m… I’m Endeavour Morse.I'm the Fire Guardian .I solve puzzles. I—
The reflection: You aren't Morse. Not anymore.
His mind snagged.
The Latin phrases slipped away, dissolving into shadow.
Panic surged into him.
Morse( louder): No. No. Don’t take that. That’s mine.
The darkness rippled.
Shadows: We’re not taking anything. We’re giving.
Morse (clutched his head, claws digging into his scalp):Get out of my head.
Shadows: Why? You called us. You needed us.
Morse( snarled, lifting his head. His black eyes glowed faintly in the dark): I needed to protect him. That doesn’t mean you get to—
The warehouse groaned as shadows surged upward, slamming into the walls, rippling across the ceiling like ink dropped in water.
Morse froze.
His breathing slowed, against his will.
The pain dulled.
The fear… receded.
And that terrified him more than anything.
Morse( whispered, shaking his head):No. No, no, no—stay back—
He staggered to his feet, backing away from the shadows as if they were living things. His heel caught on debris, and he fell hard onto his back.
The darkness rushed in.
It cradled him.
Held him.
Shadows(whispered, soothing, intimate): We can make it stop. No more pain. No more fear. No more running.
Morse squeezed his eyes shut.
He saw Thursday.
Fred Thursday, stubborn and steady, standing in the alley with his gun shaking in his hand, refusing to look away from his sergeant, from his boy.
“You’re hurt,” Thursday had said.
Shadows: Let’s get you help.
A sob tore free from the Fire Guardian's throat.
Morse( whispered into the dark):Help. Please.
The shadows hesitated.
Then recoiled, just a little.
Morse took the moment and ran again—out of the warehouse, into the night, leaving cracks and darkness behind him like a trail of sins.
___________________________________
Elsewhere, the world was still spinning—relentless, uncaring.
DI Fred Thursday sat heavily at his desk, hat discarded, tie loosened, staring at nothing. His pipe rested in his right hand, smoke still lingering from it in the air in soft waves.
Four turtles occupied the far side of the room.
This was not how he’d imagined his career ending.
Thursday( rubbing his temples):So. Let me get this straight.
Leo shifted unconfortably on his chair, grimacing at the awkard and grom situation they were in. Donnie fridged nervously with his fingers, a nervous smile revealing his gapped upper-teerh. Raphael leaned against the back of the chair, jaw clenched, arms crossed tight. Mikey sat on the couch, humming a song from a video game; he was unusually quiet, not bouncing from the walls for once.
Thursday( flatly):You’re ninja turtles.
Donnie( raised a hand):Teenage mutant ninja turtles.
Thursday: And you are living in the sewers of New York City?
Leo: Yes.
Thursday: And your father was a ninja master mutant rat?
Raph: Yep.
Thursday: And you are fighting criminals?
Leo: Yes, pretty much.
Thursday (closed his eyes):Of course you are.And my detective sergeant has been mutated by glowing green sludge thrown by a wolf-man working with shadow soldiers.
Donnie (nodded):Yes, sir.
Thursday (exhaled slowly through his nose):Right. Good. Just checking.
Silence stretched.
Then Thursday opened his eyes, gaze sharp as a blade.
Thursday: He saved one of you.
Leo (nodded):He did.
Mikey( swallowed):He saved me.
Thursday (leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled):That sounds like Morse.
Raph: This is on us.
Leo (shot him a look):Raph—
Raph: No. It is. We brought this mess into his city. Foot Clan. Mutagen. Rahzar. And now he’s...
Donnie: ....changing.Mutagen interacts differently depending on biology. And whatever… else Morse has going on. Fire powers don’t exactly fit standard human parameters.
Thursday (didn’t blink):He’s a good man.
Leo ( softly): I know.That’s what scares me.
Mikey (hugged his knees to his chest):He didn’t even hesitate.
The room went still.
Thursday looked away.
Thursday: What happens now?
Donnie( hesitated):Worst case? The mutagen rewrites his DNA entirely. Enhances aggression, strength, speed, stamina fire powers. Amplifies darker impulses. And if we don't give him the retro-mutagen in time—
Raph: He loses himself.
Thursday (stood abruptly):Not happening. Not on my watch.
Leo (met his gaze):Then we need to find him. Fast.
Mikey (finally looked up):Before he hurts someone.
Or before someone hurts him.
But no one wanted to say it.
They didn’t need to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morse crouched atop a church roof, rain slicking the stone beneath his boots.
He didn’t remember climbing up here.
The city spread out below him—lights glowing warm and distant, unaware of the monster perched above them. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, whispering, shifting with every breath.
His reflection stared back at him from the dark glass of a skylight.
He turned away with a snarl.
Morse( voice shaking): I won’t. I won’t do this. I won’t hurt them.
The shadows stirred, restless.
Shadows: Then don’t.
Morse (laughed bitterly):You make it sound so easy.
Shadows: It can be.
A flicker of movement below caught his eye—a couple walking hand in hand, laughing softly.
His chest tightened.
Hunger stirred.
Not for food.
For something else.
The young man recoiled, backing away until his spine hit the stone parapet.
Morse(hissed, claws scraping): No. Stay away. Stay away from them.
The shadows obeyed.
Barely.
Morse pressed his forehead to the cold stone, breathing hard.
Morse( whispered): I’ll stay alone. That’s… that’s safest.
The darkness coiled tighter around him, possessive.
Shadows: As you wish.
Far below, sirens wailed.
And somewhere in the city, Fred Thursday was already moving—toward his sergeant, toward the dark, refusing to give up.
Because Endeavour Morse was still out there.
And he was worth saving.
To be continued.....