"We left you two for half an hour."
There's a steady drip of pink paint from the ceiling of the tunnel to the floor of the sewer.
"Exactly. You left us, two very hyper and obviously mischievous teenagers, alone with ten buckets of paint."
Two sets of footprints track down the tunnel both ways in various colors.
"You could have at least used water instead of the paint. You know how difficult it is to get large amounts of paint in good condition down here."
Two paint buckets lay on their sides, mostly empty of the paint they were originally filled with.
"Well, technically I got six of these by myself, so let's just say I'm using the portion I got."
Splattered remains of balloons lay scattered everywhere, a few pieces still stuck to the walls.
"Still. And where did all these balloons even come from?"
A long streak of black paint on the back of a shell.
"Dr. Prankenstein, yo."
A green three fingered handprint on the back of an already paint speckled black hoodie.
"Of course, how could I have forgotten about that."
A hockey stick and nunchaku discarded on the sideline, each their own vibrant shades of the rainbow.
"Can you at least explain why we came back to World War Paint?"
Two guilty but not regretful expressions.
"Um, we were supplied with ammo and we used it?"
A raised eyebrow.
"Abstract art!"
"Well I mean you can't argue with that one."
"Raph! Don't support them!"
"I'm not! I'm just saying they're not entirely wrong."
April heaves a sigh at the same time as Leonardo. Donatello rubs his head to try and stave off the oncoming headache. Raphael rolls his eyes.
They've all gotten past the shock of coming back to the once clean tunnel, now splattered with big globs of paint. In a distant part of their minds the were all expecting it.
"Who decided we should leave these two with the paint?"
Everyone's eyes flick to Leo.
"It didn't seem like a bad idea then!" Leo tried defending himself.
"Well now you see why it's not," Raph huffs.
"But there's also not much we can do now," Donnie says, still taking in the enormity of the mess.
It was supposed to have been just a fun excursion. Mikey had suggested it when Casey had come to the lair with six buckets of paint in his arms. The turtles themselves had, over the years, collected four of their own paint buckets with a variety of colors and added them to the mix.
The closest tunnel that allowed for smooth painting was a twelve minute walk away, discovered a few months earlier by Mikey on one of his skating explorations. It had become a favorite place of his to skate because of the lack of cracks in the cement tunnel. He didn't mind sharing it though if it meant it was going to be decorated with his family's paintings.
They managed to get all the paint buckets to the tunnel between the six of them, but forgot to get the brushes and snacks like they had originally planned to bring, too caught up in the excitement for relaxation. That meant some of them had to go back and get the forgotten items. Leo, taking up his role as leader, declared Mikey and Casey would stay with the paint while the rest of them would go and retrieve the rest of the supplies.
Clearly a mistake.
Now both boys had paint smeared on various points on their bodies and another good portion of their supply splattered across the walls, ceiling, and floor.
"So I'm guessing the original plan for painting is now gone," April says.
"The original plan maybe, but it can be altered," Mikey says, perking up a bit.
"How so?" Leo asks, raising an eye ridge.
Mikey throws a glance towards Casey who grins widely.
"Like this!" Mikey and Casey yell as one and throw balloons towards the group of four.
Yelps ring out in the tunnel and the balloons pop open upon contact and decorate them with orange and white paint.
"Casey!"
"Mikey!"
Laughter is the reply.
Paint begins to fly again, adding more splattered colors to the tunnel, and claiming four more victims in its coverage.
While not a typical war zone for the six teens, it was a much more appreciated one.