Author's Note:
This is a rewrite of the 2014 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie with OC inserts. I did this mostly for myself, so if you don't want to read it, that's fine. I realize it's not the most creative thing to do, rewriting a pre-existing movie, but it still took time. An entire year in fact. And it's similar to using a base to draw or filling in a colouring book. So please don't leave any comments saying how this is lazy or anything. It was strictly for fun. Thank you.

...

"You are extraordinary, my sons. Unlike anything the world has ever seen. Bound for greatness. Destined to protect the people of New York. A dark force is growing. A criminal organization known as the Foot Clan. So named because they step over the good people of this city with no regard. Their leader, the Shredder, will come at you with ferocity. His Foot Clan will outnumber you. The people of New York will look upon you as their only hope.
Eyes focused. Elbows locked. Stance low. And we begin. Be one with the blades. Lead their path. I know you are eager to answer their calls, but your training is not yet complete. The world below must remain your home. As your father, you must trust me. Patience, patience. You're not yet ready to go above ground. But I believe when that day comes, and you rise to the streets, you are going to be responsible for amazing things."

...

"Mr. Rivetti! Mr. Rivetti!" April called while chasing down the man in question. He wore a hard hat and reflective vest over his typical work-day clothes. He mumbled a few words, the beginning of a sentence that was quickly abandoned as April continued to pester him.
"Mr. Rivetti, please," She huffed, hoping to get him to agree to answer a few questions.
"You're the most persistent human I've ever met in my life," Mr. Rivetti told her, reluctantly coming to a stop as the yellow jacket wearing reporter come around in front of him, "Look, I swear, I already told the cops everything. Alright?"
"But maybe there's a detail you'd forgotten to share with the police," She got out quickly; knowing her time talking with the worker would be short lived.
"Sweetheart, you don't forget something like that," He told her, growing even more annoyed than he originally was, "Ten guys storm in here, broad day light, force us to the ground at gun point. And these are restricted chemicals," He loosely pointed to his shipment as he slowly walked along. April matched his pace while walking backwards to still be able to face him.
Mr. Rivetti continued, "Venzal cyanide, and some deaminating agents too. You don't just buy this stuff, even on the black market."
"Wait," April interrupted, "You said deaminating agents. Those are used in genetic research." Mr. Rivetti gave her a look that showed just how much he didn't care, speckled with confusion at what she was going on about. He and his men had only been hired to move the chemicals, not know what situations they'd be used in. For safety reasons he had to know the chemicals names and base information about what they were, but that was as far as it went.
Seeing that she was losing what little of his attention she had, April quickly got to the point of asking a question, "Do you know anyone else who could've-"
"O'Neil!" Someone called, interrupting her abruptly, "We're live in thirty minutes!" Mr. Rivetti gave the reporter a nod, urging her to go do her real job, so that she would leave him to his.
"C'mon!" The man who called before continued, tapping rapidly at his wrist to indicate what little time they had.
"'Kay." Mr. Rivetti uttered, sounding as if he was finally relieved from April's reportive pestering.
"No, no, no," She protested, holding up a finger to stop him once again, "I'll be right back. Please don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." She ran off towards Vernon Fenwick, the man who had called to her before and who was currently standing beside a white channel 6 News van.
"C'mon, you're killing me," He told the rapidly approaching reporter, holding out his arms for a moment before they fell back down by his sides.
"I'm working," April insisted, gesturing back to Mr. Rivetti.
"That's a paying job?" Vern asked, knowing very well that her interview with the worker was not what they were being paid to do, "'Cause we have an actual paying job. Look. You don't think every crime reporter in this city isn't trying to work this Foot Clan story?"
"I know that. But there is a new angle on this, and I am this close to getting it," April huffed, holding out her fingers in a pinching gesture to emphazize her point, "I just need a couple of more…" She trailed off as she turned and noticed that Mr. Rivetti was no longer standing where she had left him. She gave a defeated hand gesture in that direction while turning back to her partner.
"Let's just stick to what we're good at," Vern told her, opening the door to the van, "Let's stick to what we're good at. We're good at it."

...

The duo stood in Times Square, reporting on a story about a unique exercise method. Vern brought the camera up to his shoulder and began to count down.
"Five, four," He counted the rest of the numbers silently, using his fingers as indication so April would know her cue.
"Hi guys." April began, sounding overly cheerful, "This is April O'Neil from Channel Six News, and I'm here in beautiful New York City on the first day of Spring, and you know what that means; it is time to shed that pesky winter weight. And here with me today is celebrity fitness trainer, Harley Pasternok. Hi Harley!" She placed a friendly hand on the trainer's shoulder and moved the microphone to him so he could speak.
"Good morning, April," Harley greeted, "Twenty years I've studied the animal kingdom. There are fat pigs, there are fat cows. There are no fat birds." He moved over to Aprils other side and indicated for her to get on one of the mini trampolines set up behind them. There were a few other people already doing the exercise he was about to show April. Harley continued as Vern gave April a sympathetic look, "Alright, I want you to visualize a sexy seagull." Now standing on one of the trampolines, April followed the exercise, squatting down and coming back up while flapping her arms like a bird. The trainer continued to talk encouragingly as she performed in front of the camera.
After the news segment was over, April grabbed her jacket off a stand by the van and proceeded to put it back on. "Four years of journalism school, so that I could do that," She complained, "Four years of my life, Vern. This is embarrassing."
"Look, O'Neil, I get it," Vern told her, beginning an attempt at cheering her up, "You want to be a serious journalist. I see you sniffing around the news room for the big stories. But it's also okay to just give people something a little lighter, a little froth." His eyes grew wide as he nodded, hoping she would understand what he was trying to say.
"Froth?" She repeated.
Vern picked up speed in his explanation, "You know how when you get a coffee, it's just like coffee, and then they put like a little froth on it, and it's kind'a nice."
"Vern, that's foam." April corrected, a smile showing her amusement at his fumbling.
"Yes. Foam, froth. You get the point," Vern's slight annoyance at her pointing out such a miniscule difference was evident in his tone and facial expression, "It's-it's nice. It tastes good. It's candy. You ever hear the expression never take candy from a baby? It's 'cause even babies love candy. It's nice, and you're giving people something they like that's good and nice," He was babbling now, but refused to stop until he got his point across, "They look at you and they say wow, there's a nice-there's … candy. The point is, I think that … you should be rewarded, not punishing yourself. And I'm-I'm prepared to reward you. I say that we go to my buddy's little restauraunt down town, it's very vibey-"
"We just ate on the way over here," April said, finally cutting his rant short.
"No, I know we just-I'm not saying for a full meal. We're just getting apet-teasers." He trailed off as he realized his attempt at cheering April up and trying to get a date with her hadn't worked quite like he wanted.
"I gotta go finish that interview. I'll see you at the office, Vern." April called, walking to her bike.
"I will see you at the office." He called back, putting on a pair of shades.
April rode her bike to a quite spot where she could stop and make a video call. Still wearing her helmet, and with her bike leaning on its side, she crouched down against a chain link fence and pulled out her phone. "I just wanted to follow up, Mr. Rivetti." She said as he answered the call.
"Are you kidding me? How-how'd you get my number?" He asked. It was clear that his annoyance with the young woman was at its peak.
"If I could just ask one more question."
He threw his head back angrily before turning back to his phone, "Listen, I already told you everything I know about this crime. Everything."
"Wait, wait, wait," She begged him not to hang up.
He finally gave in, or rather, decided to pawn her off to someone else, "Okay, you wanna know anything else? You go back down to the docks, see my guy Stan. He'll tell you anything else you need to know. Okay? And hey, do me a favour: lose my number. Alright?" April sighed as she hung up the phone and returned her bike to its upright position. She knew it would take some time to ride down to the docks and that it would most likely be dark by then. But she was determined to get her hands on as much of this story as she could, and she wasn't going to let a simple sunset stop her.