Disclaimer:…. I obviously do not own Ninja Turtles. Peter Lair and Kevin Eastman do.
Authors note: I decided to do something a little different. This is a pretty much dark AU and it is a different concept. For one thing, the Shredder of this universe was human instead of Utrom. There are five mutant turtles - Venus from next mutation is actually their sister (Leonardo's twin) in this. Like in the oringinal comics, they all wear red masks, but they also all wear black cowls. I cannot reveal more without giving away more of the plot.
In this prologue, they are all twenty-five, as in the next chapter.
"What have we become?
Speak your mind, look out for yourself
The answer to it all is a life of wealth
Grab all you can, cause you just live once
You got the right to do whatever you want
Don't worry bout others or where you came from
It ain't what you were, it's what you have become."
-"What have we become" by DC Talk.
Hamato Splinter lay on a mat in his own dojo – his death-glazed, beady black eyes wide as if trying to see for the last time. A katana was pierced through his body, right in the center of his chest and stabbing through his heart. A puddle of blood surrounded him, and the same, once life-giving substance flecked his lips and ran out of the corner of his mouth.
Only four of his five children were there, milled around him; their eyes wide as they stared down at the cooled body of their slain sire.
The absent fifth child had been the one who had done this.
Hamato Raphael lay sprawled out on the concrete ground besides a building – blood oozing out from his shattered shell and exiting even his eyes, mixing with the tears of disbelief leaving a clear-pinkish wet trail along his dark green face and soaking his red mask.
Hamato Donatello was slumped against a
wall – his sides slashed to the point some of his entrails trailed out of it like ribbons from hell. The handle of a tanto was poking out of the stomach area of his plastron while the blade kept his body pinned to the wall like a nail.
Hamato Michaelangelo and Hamato Venus DeMilo fled, struggling to do so. Where Michaelangelo's left eye once was, was nothing but a bloody mess. Where Venus's right hand once was, was a bleeding stump wrist. Both were covered in deep, extensive injuries.
But these injuries paled in comparison to the slashes of grief in their hearts, which bled hatred and bitterness.
Shadow Jones was peacefully asleep when a shuriken was shoved through her throat.
With their hands still stained in blood, Oroku Karai and Hamato Leonardo clicked together their glasses of wine. The wine was almost as red as the blood, yet nothing besides the very congealing fluid could be as morbid as death itself.
This idea has been floating in my head for a long time - I had to do it. Also, if my good friend Rose Black Dragon reads this... I am very sorry if you find this offensive in any way, but I had to write this story.
