Ultimate Eastman & Laird's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
My name is Leonardo. I am fifteen and at this moment I am as good as dead, and so are my brothers. I stand at the front of the group, my long katana blades glistening in the night sky. Donatello stands to my left, his Bo staff clutched tightly in his hands. On my right stands Michelangelo, who grips two nunchuaks, one in each fist. Behind me stands Raphael who twirls two sai within his fists. The men surrounding us are generally known as the Savage Dragon gang, one of the most feared in New York's underground. Recently we found out they were selling hard drugs to kids who weren't even 13. We don't like that, my brothers and I. We ran in hoping to put that situation right, and we still hope we can. It's just now it is not looking to be a possibility, let alone a certainty. "Nobody messes with the Savage Dragons, especially if they're wearing stupid TURTLE costumes." One of them shouts at us over-confidently. He's holding a gun, yet another sign of false courage. But he's wrong, we are not wearing costumes.
"Now." I whisper and we spring out together, knocking down the majority of the thugs. The one with the gun fires at me, but I dodge him effortlessly, jumping over him. I kick him square in the spine and he crumples in pain, he looks up at me with the eyes of a beggar. I don't much like beggars. I lower my blade near his face and let it touch the skin. He's crying by now, so I put him out of his misery I take his hand, complete with gun. He stares in horror, it's the last thing he sees as my katana digs deep into his back taking blood and bone with it. A few more attack me, they move like slugs compared to my brothers and I. They also have the same lifespan. Donatello, normally quiet and restrained is using his Bo staff as a bludgeon, pounding his unfortunate victims skulls. Michelangelo beats off hoods with one Nunchuk and chokes a young guy who can't be older than a college freshman with the other. Raphael meanwhile, fights like a turtle possessed tearing into the Dragons with his sai. I always felt he would be the one who would take to this bloodshed best. As the last of the Dragons falls by Raph's hand, three equal sized stab wounds in his stomach, Raphael smiles at me, almost in a depraved way. More scarily, I return the gesture, as do my brothers. We hear sirens approaching, lights flashing. "The cops are here, I think we'd better split." Michelangelo comments. I nod, instructing the others to get cover.
The cops walk into the building, but they will find nothing but corpses of what was once the collected Savage Dragon gang and bloodstained walls. We cannot be seen; it would take away from our effectiveness. We sneak quietly into the night, the news reports will tell our story. We have upheld our training, our Master Splinter will be proud. Raphael opens the sewer manhole and one by one we make our escape having made our first contribution to balancing the scales of justice.
It is several hours before we negotiate the sewer system successfully and return to our home. Our master is waiting for us. "You have performed well, my students." He greets us. He is old and a great deal smaller than us but he is anything but frail. He is a master of the ninja arts and perhaps even more strangely, he is a rat. He tells us he was human once but those days have passed. He never yearns to regain a place above the sewer; I think he quite likes living down here but then again so do I since I've never known anything else. My brothers watch a lot of TV though and it has made them yearn for life above ground. Master Splinter claims that this will weaken them and may cause their downfall and to be honest I am inclined to agree with him, on a lot of things. My brothers claim I am what humans call a "teacher's pet" which as far as I am aware of is actually a good thing but is frowned upon by both humans and my brothers.
"You trying to tell us we kicked butt?" Michelangelo asks. He is clearly on an adrenaline rush of some sort. I hope he does not develop a taste for killing. Splinter hits him over the head with his walking stick, shaking the red bandanna like the one we all wear nearly off his head. "Perhaps I am, but remember Michelangelo you still have much to learn." Splinter replied sternly before pointing to the wall. That means a punishment exercise of some sort. "But Splinter, I'm tired!" Michelangelo whines as Donatello and Raphael laugh. I am laughing, but trying to hold it in. I think that since Michelangelo is the youngest he may be receiving unfair treatment and I make a mental note to deal with it later. "No buts, ten flips NOW!" Splinter orders, his gaze almost becoming pure steel. Michelangelo shrugs, throwing his weapons to the floor and starts to flip. Donatello and Raphael chant the numbers mockingly as Michelangelo flips with a sour expression. As he prepares for his final flip, Raphael sticks out his leg and trips him. Michelangelo falls to the ground with a loud and quite painful sounding thump. Donatello, who I'd expect better from, and Raphael begin to almost have a heart attack laughing. Splinter is furious and points to the wall twice and Donatello and Raphael look at each other in horror. Splinter instructs Michelangelo and myself to retire for the night while Donatello and Raphael begin their flips. I distinctly hear the number fifty uttered by Splinter and cries of obscenities from Raphael, which just causes Splinter to utter the number one hundred.
I toss away my scabbards, red mask, shoulder and kneepads and belt and retire for the night. I sleep better in knowing that both crimes of criminal and personal nature have been solved tonight. It is almost comforting to me. Several hours of restless sleep follow, until I hear my master scream. I quickly reequip my weapons and dash to his quarters. I slash the door open with my blades, to find the other Turtles already standing around Splinter. "Way to knock down the door Leo." Raphael says to me with a grunt. He looks very tired; he must have only recently completed his punishment flips.
Nevertheless I ignore the comment and kneel at my master's die. "Master, what troubles you?" I ask. "He is here." My master replies cryptically. "Who is here?" Raphael asked, a hint of demand creeping into his voice. "The man who I have trained you to face since I took you into my care, The Shredder. He and his Foot Clan are nearby, I sense their presence." Splinter replies, a rare sense of urgency and anxiety in his tone of voice. "Wait a minute, I'm confused. Who's The Shredder?" Michelangelo enquires.
"I will explain. A long time ago both the Shredder and myself were members of the Foot Clan. They are a group, almost a cult of assassins. The Shredder was instructed to kill the one whom I was betrothed to and I stopped him. I had committed a grave offense. My honor taken from me, I was forced into exile. I fled here, to New York, where I would be able to life my life peacefully. Unfortunately, The Shredder instructed the Foot Clan he was now leader of to hunt me down. I was unable to keep a fixed address and so I located to the sewers. I lived off the various forms of life that lurk down here until one day; I unfortunately consumed a rat that had itself consumed some sort of mutagen that had been dumped in the sewer. It caused me to mutate into my present form. Then, a few months later the four of you fell from the surface and landed in the mutagen. You mutated into what were little more than children. You acknowledged me as your father, so I took you under my wing and began to train you in the ninja arts in the hope that one day you would be able to attack the Shredder and defeat him." My master explains. My brothers and I are all shocked at this tale, we had always assumed that Splinter had once been a lowly rat but this information changes everything. We were trained with a purpose, one far darker than even we had assumed. "Master, how did." Donatello begins, but Master Splinter waves him off. "You have learned enough, perhaps too much, for this night. Return to your beds, we have much to prepare in the morning." Splinter tells us. I obey, but can't help wonder if what he means by much to prepare is to prepare for war..
My name is Leonardo. I am fifteen and at this moment I am as good as dead, and so are my brothers. I stand at the front of the group, my long katana blades glistening in the night sky. Donatello stands to my left, his Bo staff clutched tightly in his hands. On my right stands Michelangelo, who grips two nunchuaks, one in each fist. Behind me stands Raphael who twirls two sai within his fists. The men surrounding us are generally known as the Savage Dragon gang, one of the most feared in New York's underground. Recently we found out they were selling hard drugs to kids who weren't even 13. We don't like that, my brothers and I. We ran in hoping to put that situation right, and we still hope we can. It's just now it is not looking to be a possibility, let alone a certainty. "Nobody messes with the Savage Dragons, especially if they're wearing stupid TURTLE costumes." One of them shouts at us over-confidently. He's holding a gun, yet another sign of false courage. But he's wrong, we are not wearing costumes.
"Now." I whisper and we spring out together, knocking down the majority of the thugs. The one with the gun fires at me, but I dodge him effortlessly, jumping over him. I kick him square in the spine and he crumples in pain, he looks up at me with the eyes of a beggar. I don't much like beggars. I lower my blade near his face and let it touch the skin. He's crying by now, so I put him out of his misery I take his hand, complete with gun. He stares in horror, it's the last thing he sees as my katana digs deep into his back taking blood and bone with it. A few more attack me, they move like slugs compared to my brothers and I. They also have the same lifespan. Donatello, normally quiet and restrained is using his Bo staff as a bludgeon, pounding his unfortunate victims skulls. Michelangelo beats off hoods with one Nunchuk and chokes a young guy who can't be older than a college freshman with the other. Raphael meanwhile, fights like a turtle possessed tearing into the Dragons with his sai. I always felt he would be the one who would take to this bloodshed best. As the last of the Dragons falls by Raph's hand, three equal sized stab wounds in his stomach, Raphael smiles at me, almost in a depraved way. More scarily, I return the gesture, as do my brothers. We hear sirens approaching, lights flashing. "The cops are here, I think we'd better split." Michelangelo comments. I nod, instructing the others to get cover.
The cops walk into the building, but they will find nothing but corpses of what was once the collected Savage Dragon gang and bloodstained walls. We cannot be seen; it would take away from our effectiveness. We sneak quietly into the night, the news reports will tell our story. We have upheld our training, our Master Splinter will be proud. Raphael opens the sewer manhole and one by one we make our escape having made our first contribution to balancing the scales of justice.
It is several hours before we negotiate the sewer system successfully and return to our home. Our master is waiting for us. "You have performed well, my students." He greets us. He is old and a great deal smaller than us but he is anything but frail. He is a master of the ninja arts and perhaps even more strangely, he is a rat. He tells us he was human once but those days have passed. He never yearns to regain a place above the sewer; I think he quite likes living down here but then again so do I since I've never known anything else. My brothers watch a lot of TV though and it has made them yearn for life above ground. Master Splinter claims that this will weaken them and may cause their downfall and to be honest I am inclined to agree with him, on a lot of things. My brothers claim I am what humans call a "teacher's pet" which as far as I am aware of is actually a good thing but is frowned upon by both humans and my brothers.
"You trying to tell us we kicked butt?" Michelangelo asks. He is clearly on an adrenaline rush of some sort. I hope he does not develop a taste for killing. Splinter hits him over the head with his walking stick, shaking the red bandanna like the one we all wear nearly off his head. "Perhaps I am, but remember Michelangelo you still have much to learn." Splinter replied sternly before pointing to the wall. That means a punishment exercise of some sort. "But Splinter, I'm tired!" Michelangelo whines as Donatello and Raphael laugh. I am laughing, but trying to hold it in. I think that since Michelangelo is the youngest he may be receiving unfair treatment and I make a mental note to deal with it later. "No buts, ten flips NOW!" Splinter orders, his gaze almost becoming pure steel. Michelangelo shrugs, throwing his weapons to the floor and starts to flip. Donatello and Raphael chant the numbers mockingly as Michelangelo flips with a sour expression. As he prepares for his final flip, Raphael sticks out his leg and trips him. Michelangelo falls to the ground with a loud and quite painful sounding thump. Donatello, who I'd expect better from, and Raphael begin to almost have a heart attack laughing. Splinter is furious and points to the wall twice and Donatello and Raphael look at each other in horror. Splinter instructs Michelangelo and myself to retire for the night while Donatello and Raphael begin their flips. I distinctly hear the number fifty uttered by Splinter and cries of obscenities from Raphael, which just causes Splinter to utter the number one hundred.
I toss away my scabbards, red mask, shoulder and kneepads and belt and retire for the night. I sleep better in knowing that both crimes of criminal and personal nature have been solved tonight. It is almost comforting to me. Several hours of restless sleep follow, until I hear my master scream. I quickly reequip my weapons and dash to his quarters. I slash the door open with my blades, to find the other Turtles already standing around Splinter. "Way to knock down the door Leo." Raphael says to me with a grunt. He looks very tired; he must have only recently completed his punishment flips.
Nevertheless I ignore the comment and kneel at my master's die. "Master, what troubles you?" I ask. "He is here." My master replies cryptically. "Who is here?" Raphael asked, a hint of demand creeping into his voice. "The man who I have trained you to face since I took you into my care, The Shredder. He and his Foot Clan are nearby, I sense their presence." Splinter replies, a rare sense of urgency and anxiety in his tone of voice. "Wait a minute, I'm confused. Who's The Shredder?" Michelangelo enquires.
"I will explain. A long time ago both the Shredder and myself were members of the Foot Clan. They are a group, almost a cult of assassins. The Shredder was instructed to kill the one whom I was betrothed to and I stopped him. I had committed a grave offense. My honor taken from me, I was forced into exile. I fled here, to New York, where I would be able to life my life peacefully. Unfortunately, The Shredder instructed the Foot Clan he was now leader of to hunt me down. I was unable to keep a fixed address and so I located to the sewers. I lived off the various forms of life that lurk down here until one day; I unfortunately consumed a rat that had itself consumed some sort of mutagen that had been dumped in the sewer. It caused me to mutate into my present form. Then, a few months later the four of you fell from the surface and landed in the mutagen. You mutated into what were little more than children. You acknowledged me as your father, so I took you under my wing and began to train you in the ninja arts in the hope that one day you would be able to attack the Shredder and defeat him." My master explains. My brothers and I are all shocked at this tale, we had always assumed that Splinter had once been a lowly rat but this information changes everything. We were trained with a purpose, one far darker than even we had assumed. "Master, how did." Donatello begins, but Master Splinter waves him off. "You have learned enough, perhaps too much, for this night. Return to your beds, we have much to prepare in the morning." Splinter tells us. I obey, but can't help wonder if what he means by much to prepare is to prepare for war..