Chapter Summary: Living day by day, Donatello falls into a routine where he constantly battles with his thoughts and emotions. Being a mutant isn't easy, and so, he struggles to cope.

A/N: First off, I want to thank Poetique823 and Rascalkat for their help and input into this first chapter. They're awesome and you should give their stuff a read!

Okay, so I know I'm constantly writing stuff, but as this is a new series. I wanted to write about a different concept, and so, this was created. The chapters will tie in together, and as I make a new addition, I'll make it clear when it takes place in. They won't completely be in order, but this series will take place in his 20s, and the entries will all tie in. I promise!

Well, I'll quit rambling. Hope y'all will like it. Happy Reading ^.^

Horns from cars sound off, echoing through the air. Shouting can be heard in the distance, from angry customers to people calling a taxi… Then, there's the foul stench of the smog that drifts by. Even as disgusting as it may be, I'm still attached to it.

I can't help but allow my eyes to wander the sights of the bustling city. People who will walk out in the open, walking out into the road like it's a given right. Scoffing, I tuck my knees in closer as I watch. Why am I watching? What's so good about watching people go about their days from a fire escape in a dank alley?

That's a good question, actually. Well, I could be doing better things with my time…like I dunno', building a new supercomputer. Maybe putting together a new transport device. Oh! And maybe even discover a cure for cancer– which I'm sure I can do with the proper tools.

So if I can do all that, then why I am I wasting my time with people watching? The answer is simple: I long for it. I yearn to be able to walk through the city. Heck, to be able to go to a university or a laboratory and perform research.

Then why can't I? If I'm so sure of myself, why not go ahead and do it?

Well, how can I? How can I walk through the streets knowing what I am? Renet may have told me quite a few times that I will become famous. A well-known inventor at that! Suddenly, a maniacal laugh erupts from my throat, eventually dying out to a bitter snigger.

No, that's improbable. Even though we're free to walk out in the open now, that doesn't stop the judging eyes from piercing me. Being able to walk freely doesn't prevent the ongoing jabs and sneers towards my existence.

Trust me, I've tried all of those things. I've even submitted a research paper on how cancer could be cured. They just looked at me with disbelieving eyes. Those…those pigs lifted their fingers and accused me of thievery! A mutant couldn't possibly have written that!

Gritting my teeth, I feel my anger skim beneath the surface from the memory. Since there's nothing I can do about it, I'm reduced to watching from the sidelines. Mainly sitting all alone, in a place such as this, while conversing with myself.

Yep just another good ol' talk, Donatello…

Right.

I'm just a twenty-eight year old mutant turtle who spends their free time wishing for something he doesn't have. I don't have a human appearance. I don't have the experience. Instead, I have a giant shell and large stubby feet. Oh, and the three fingers? I've lost track of how many times I got laughed at for that.

After all, your fingers are much too large and clumsy to handle lab equipment. Ha! I've done it a billion times, maybe even more, but those hacks can barely handle an old computer!

But nope, I'm a mutant so they obviously know better than me. In the end, I've just given up. No one wants a mutant turtle working for them, or even one hanging around. A frown spreads across my face as my thoughts shift, causing me to loosen up. Life is painful enough being a mutant, so why put myself through even more unnecessary hardships?

Then again, being a mutant doesn't stop my brothers. They're able to just shrug it off and continue onwards. Nothing stops them from always having a good time with Casey and April. Ugh, that's another thing… Casey and April. Together. I nearly grimace at the very notion of it.

But I should be honest with myself…It's probably my fault to begin with. They're together because of me. She's no longer with me, because I made it that way. I wasn't able to walk out in the open with her. We would get laughed at. We've had sodas, milkshakes, slushies–you name it, thrown at us.

Of course I couldn't fight back. Heck, I didn't even have to take it. I can easily defend myself without my weapons. But if I touch one hair on someone other than an alien or a mutant, I get put in jail for defending myself. That's an unpleasant experience to say the least.

It's just…I thought I could endure it, but it wasn't just about me anymore. It was about us. Our happiness, and frankly, she's better off with someone who's at least normal. Someone who can at least provide for her…

As the thought consumes me, I lift up my hands, turning my attention towards them. Many callouses cover the pads of my fingers from all the years of working with them. Even though they're rough to the touch, I know how to be tender with them.

She even knows that; however, it just wasn't working. We weren't working.

So I had no other choice. If I wanted her to be happy, then I had to let her go. I had to push her away. Tears start to well up, so I quickly swallow down the regret. It's for the best, after all. Heaving a heavy sigh, I dangle my feet as I go back to people watching.

To be honest, it's boring to stare at the crowds in the streets. There's a never ending stream of people, even as the sun drifts on by. Nothing new happens, and so, I begin to feel antsy.

Perhaps I should go back to my hole and keep working, but what good will it do? In the end, the inventions will collect dust in the corner of my "lab" anyways. Tinkering around and pretending to be a scientist is just as much of a waste as just sitting here. Then again, it's better than sitting around doing nothing.

Yup, just keep talking to yourself and debating the same old thing every afternoon….

A pang of guilt stabs into the pit of my stomach, causing me cringe. After all, I do this pretty much every day. Every. Single. Day. It's laughable that my genius intellect is being wasted on a creature such as myself. All I'm able to do is sulk in the shadows, being bitter about everything.

Eventually, I push the thoughts aside and just stare blankly off into space. I stop bothering to pay attention to the minor details, such as what device someone has or how someone swaggers. None of that really matters. That's not my world after all.

Then, the boredom becomes too much. I begin to rock my weight forwards and back, trying to keep myself from sitting completely still. The itch to use my hands pulls at me, and so, I gather to my feet. My large, freaky feet.

I guess it's back to the hole I crawled from…

Turning my head back towards the street, I feel the longing pulling at me. I could take the roads home, but no, it's better off that I go home from above–to use my ninja roots to fade into the darkness.

It's where I've always belonged, anyways.