MABOROSHI

The illusion that illustrates its existence into our panting spirit shall not wake itself as we surrender our spirits to a sound slumber.

"We're not against the soldiers, we're against the war!" (2003)

Hello and welcome to my first dive into the world of fan fiction. While I plan to deal mostly with my favorite Anime shows from past and present, I considered my options and decided that it would be best to do my first fan fic on the first action animation I ever enjoyed.. That of course being the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Thus, here is my first chapter.

Please Note: While this is my original story, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles®, including Raphael®, Michaelangelo®, Leonardo®, Donatello®, and April O'Neil® are registered trademarks of Mirage Studios USA. Based on characters and comic books created by Peter A. Laird and Kevin B. Eastman

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Allright kids, "Let's do it!" (Pauses for Nike endorsement)

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES: The Plight of A Rat

By Maboroshi

            I.

Splinter sighed as he stared out into the darkness that had overcome his setting. His hands, twisted behind his back and tied together ached as he struggled to maneuver them into a spot where comfort could become a possibility. The rugged wooden chair in which he sat fastened to began quite a pain in his backside. Splinter had spent two hours shrouded in darkness, desperately seeking a possible escape. There appeared to be no options at his hands. He would have to wait for help, and he knew just what form it would come in.

Splinter recalled the day's events in his head once more. The last thing he remembered was sitting down and relaxing with some tea and one of his favorite novels. His students Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael and Leonardo had left their sewer home in search of a large pocket of the foot clan who had recently been seen assisting a bank robbery. This was obviously a diversion planned by The Shredder in hopes of getting one step closer to the Ninja Turtles once more. Splinter sighed once more. This had happened all too often. He cringed as he remembered his shock at seeing a soldier of the foot clan jump before him. He remembered the soldier's appearance. All were the same. Dressed in head to toe with black, they always stood in a strong stance ready to fight. Within a second a huge blow to the head knocked Splinter unconscious. His next memory was awakening in this cold, dark place, confined to this rugged wooden chair.

Suddenly, with the strike of a match, the darkness gave way to light. The small flame that now lingered over a candle wick gave Splinter a glance at the silhouette of his mortal enemy, The Shredder.

Scott Vandergrath brushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes and behind his ears. He stood up and vacated his spot under the bleachers where he usually resided to when in need of some relaxation between classes. Today however there will be no relaxation, Scott thought to himself as he emerged from his sanctuary and joined his screaming Junior Class.

Nothing got students at Johnson Regional High School of New York more excited than the Homecoming football pep rally. Everyone except for Scott of course. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't seem to find interest in the rate at which the larger athletes could plow through an opposing team and run the ball through for a touchdown. Scott often found himself bewildered as to how something as trivial as a game of football could take precedent in people's lives when so much evil ran rampant in their community. So many women had become the victims of rape and other violent crimes. Drug dealers wandered the streets, ruining lives with their cocaine and heroine discounts. Gangs still threatened innocent people on the streets, and the elusive foot clan that Scott had heard about on the news continued to grow in its numbers.

Scott watched the Varsity football team march out onto the gym and stand in awe of themselves a little longer, and promptly exited the gym. Scott knew he wouldn't get into any trouble for ditching; he'd always been a straight a student and never got into trouble at school. Besides, the faculty was busy keeping seniors from launching an attack on the freshman class with a pocketful of pennies to notice one student exit. So ridiculous, Scott thought to himself. Why not make the new students feel welcome?

Immediately upon stepping outside, Scott reached for the hood of his grey sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. Rain or shine, Scott always wore his hood when he stepped outside. He never knew exactly why, but it made him feel well protected. Some warned him that wearing a grey jacket like that through the streets of New York would label him as a gang member, but Scott had little concern for what others thought of him.

It was a nice day, the fresh October air lingered to a comfortable extent. Scott didn't know exactly where he was going. His mother's apartment was about five blocks away from school. Usually he took the bus to get home, but today he'd left long before underclassmen dismissal. Scott really had nothing to do but wander around for a while.

Scott wandered down a street he hadn't seen before. Strange, he thought, could I be lost? Suddenly Scott heard a whimper from an alley about ten feet behind him. The whimper amplified into an ear piercing shriek. Scott dropped his backpack and ran towards the alley. What lay ahead was the most incredible thing he'd encountered in his life.

Scott could see them as soon as he entered the alley. Six shadowy figures huddled over a young girl of maybe thirteen or fourteen. Hovering about they were like extra terrestrial visitors from a cult favorite horror movie. When Scott got about a step closer, he recognized them better. They perfectly fit the description that the news lady April O'Neil had given of the elusive Foot Clan: Tall, muscular men, around the ages of 18-30, dressed from head to toe in black. Scott shuddered as he compared the men that lay before him to the sketch artist's interpretation.

Scott hoped that he could sneak in slowly into this situation, but the young girl's glance at him caused the Foot Clan soldiers to turn around. "Oh boy." Scott uttered to himself.

"Leave now." One of the men uttered slowly. "If you know what's best for you you'll make tracks."

Scott was frozen for a moment. He didn't move an inch.

"Let us take out this worm." Another one of the foot clan said. They all turned to Scott and went into a fighting stance.

Finally Scott spoke out loud. "Run!" He shouted to the little girl. "Just go!"

She listened. With all of her might the little girl dashed out of the alley. With that little problem out of the way, all Scott needed to do now was to take care of these six men who were prepared to kill him.

This faction of the foot clan could never be prepared for what happened at this moment. This young man, who appeared to be nothing short of a midnight snack in terms of fighting, dashed at their leader, the fighter put in charge of this mission. With his arms raised in defense, he came at the leader with a heavy kick to the chest. While the leader stumbled back, Scott started in on other one of the foot clan, who was positively dumbfounded. He came at the soldier with the hardest driving punch he could. His fist smashed hard into the foot clans face, sending him sprawling back as his leader had seconds earlier.

"Get a hold of him, NOW!!!!!" The leader shouted. One of the foot clan who hadn't been harmed yet approached Scott, who now had developed a bit more confidence about this fight. "Oh yeah, let's go tough guy!" Scott said sarcastically. "You're real brave going up against little girls; why not fight someone your own size?"

Scott tried punching him, but the well trained member of the foot clan seized Scott's hand. Scott tried to recover with a kick, but that only gave the foot clan a better grasp of him. Completely petrified in fear, Scott lay limp and motionless as three more of the foot clan took hold of him and hovered above as they had that little girl.

The leader now stood directly over Scott. He looked up and could see into his cold, spiritless eyes. He was a rogue mercenary, who knew only of violence. Scott was merely a sporadically trained martial artist. How could he ever leave this battle victorious?

"Wonderful." The leader said. "I want to show you just what happens to little punks who choose to interfere with my plans." The leader pulled a knife from his belt and held it just above Scott's neck. "Now, I want to be sure I do this slowly enough for you to suffer as long as possible, so be sure to cry out when needed." The leader said. If Scott could speak he would plead with this man for his life. Unfortunately ultimate fear had paralyzed his entire existence, and he had become a shivering child, waiting for the inevitable sting of death to come his way.

Yes, I am ending the first chapter here. No Turtles you say? Well, I'll be sure to get the second Chapter up as soon as possible. I'm still awaiting my first REVIEW, and if you'd be so kind to do so it would be greatly appreciated. To review click on the little blue button on your bottom left.  What happens to Scott now that the foot clan has him marked? And what of Splinter, who's welcome is surely wearing thin? Stay tuned for Chapter II.

~Maboroshi