And you thought your life was weird…

There have been a lot of reports of 'giant frogs' terrorizing the thugs and low-life's of NYC. Enough so, that it has sparked the attention of the hunting community; but with the boys tied up in the apocalypse, Bobby has no choice but to send in another Hunter…and she may have just stepped into a bigger issue than they could possibly anticipated. Let alone how it will mushroom once Shredder makes a deal with a demon.

I side stepped and attack by the big guy only to get whacked over the head by one of his cronies. How the… when did this clown get behind me?

My name is Cameron Summers, but you can call me Ronnie. I'm hunter, and no I ain't talking about Bambi and his cutesy woodland counter parts. I mean like ghosts and monsters and all kinds of unsavory things that go bump in the night. Things that mommy and daddy have told you from the time you were five years old didn't exist. They lied.

So I guess your wondering why a nut job like me who deals in the 'supernatural' is here in the middle of New York throwing down with some no-brained street thugs who eat steroids on their cornflakes. Well, it's funny you should ask…

That morning:

"So you were attacked… by giant talking frogs…" I said resisting the urge to shake my head. This guy was clearly crazy, "Where did you say this happed again, sir?"

"Just behind the liquor store," (Ah! That explained it!) The man said from his hospital bed, "Two blocks down from the south entrance to the park."

I nodded, jotting down a few notes before tucking the pad into the inner pocket of my jacket, "I think that's all I need, thank you for your time sir."

"No problem, Agent…"

"Kutzle. Agent Brea Kutzle*."

"Agent Kutzle…" He repeated, "Hey, do you thing since I'm cooperating with the feds I can get a reduced sentence?"

"I'll talk to my superiors." I lied turning to leave, "Decisions like that are above my pay grade, but I'll put in a good word."

With that I stepped out in the hallway shutting the door behind me. Now, normally, I wouldn't be chancing a story like this; but our good Randle McMurphy* isn't the first inmate to bring up this half-baked story about oversized Kermit-clones going rouge and attempting to reenact "The Muppets Take Manhattan"

As such, I (Cameron Summers, well known ranidaphobic*) got called in to check out what was really going on since Bobby Singers go-to boys were tied up in some "bigger matter." But, that didn't mean I couldn't priorities, no sense walking into a situation half cocked and having no idea what I'm doing, research and recognizance was a defiantly necessity… But first things first: getting out of this freaking skirt suit!

I had just made it back to my hotel when my phone rang, "Go for Summers."

"Ronnie," Bobby Singer's voice carried over the line, "Hey darlin', just calling to see if you made it out there alright."

"Yeah, I made it." I said shutting my door behind me and kicking off my heels… did I mention I hate playing Fed? "Just got back from interviewing the latest victim. If you can call him that… Bobby, I've seen things scrapped off roadhouse floors that were less skeevy than this guy."

"There's all kinds of monsters out there that target bad people." Bobby said, "Remember the Trickster? Just because they're assholes* don't mean they deserve that kind of torture."

"Yeah, alright." I said leaning against the table, "Listen, I got to go if I'm going to dig up anything before it get's dark. I'll call you when I have a grasp on the situation."

"Ok, you be careful now." He said and I could hear him settle into a chair, "The freaks always come out at night."

"That explains why I never see Dean during the daylight hour!" I heard him burst out laughing.

"You take care darlin', I'll be waitin' for your call."

"Bye Bobby." I hung up and turned to pull out my computer. Might was well get started…

That evening I was back in my element, hitting the pavement in search of these 'giant frogs' that were out terrorizing the big apple. From what I'd dug up looking through police reports and news articles, there were supposedly anywhere between two and twenty of these 'frogs' running around, causing all kinds of problems for the local criminal scene. Most of the time they would get the jump on these thug- I mean 'innocent bystanders' in and alley, and then vanish into thin air… Which really only left me one way to go: Walking the alleyways of New York in the middle of the night.

Peachy… this can't possibly end badly…

"Hey!" Oh yes, right on cue… I turned to see a rather large, shadowed figure stalking towards me flanked be several smaller, but no less intimidating, shadowy figures. I say 'no less intimidating' because wile the one in the middle looked big enough to crush the Impala like a soda can (seriously, what did this guy eat, the entire first sting of a local football team?), his cronies were obviously armed, with everything from baseball bats and chains, to… oh my- is that an actual sword? Oh for the love of all things good, these people really are crazy…

"Well, what do we have here?" The big guy said moving closer to me. Great. I stepped back, trying to keep some distance between us.

"Nothing," I said, I kept looking around, there was a twitchy little one that was almost always right at the edge of my vision, "Just minding my own business, trying to get home."

"I don't think so sweetheart!" Nameless-background-thug #892 said swinging his chain, "This is Purple Dragon territory. You gonna pass through here, you gotta pay."

Purple Dragons? Are you kidding me? What are they, Barney the Dinosaur's retarded cousins? I put my hands up, "Look guys, I don't want any trouble…"

"Oh, it's a little late for that sweet cheeks!" N-b-t #183 said and made a lunge at me. Perfect… this exactly how I wanted my night to go… I'll have to remember to send Bobby a thank you card!

I grabbed the guy by the writs and used his momentum to run him into the brick siding of the building. Turning from that I just barely missed the next thug attempting to use my head to make a grand slam. However, dodging Alex Rodriguez there out me right back in front of He-man, who lifted both arms over his head like he planed to bring them down over mine.

By whatever stream of luck I was on I managed to sidestep the Incredible Hulk, only to catch a glimpse of the twitch little freak from earlier… right before he cold-cocked my right upside my head with something (I would have said it was a city bus by the pain, but considering how twiggy this guy was, it was probably another baseball bat).

The last thing I registered before everything went black was four short, stocky figures appearing out of nowhere. One of them yanked the bat away from the spaz and said, "Ya know, it ain't right ta go 'round hittin' girls.*"

I dropped down behind the skinny little punk that had just clocked the girl over the head with a Louisville Slugger. Snatching the bat out of his hand, I couldn't help but smirk at his panicked expression, "Ya know, it ain't right to go 'round hittin; girls,"

He took off running like the pansy he was, fallowed quickly by the rest of the wanna-be tough guy wangstas. I flipped the bat around my neck, hanging my hands off both ends and turned to Don who was already bent over the girl, "How's she lookin' Brainiac?"

"I don't know…" He said shinning a pen light in her eyes, "He hit her pretty hard, she may have a concussion… maybe worse. What should we do Leo?"

We all turned to look at 'Fearless Leader' he had his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, "We should take her to a hospital… but it's getting too light out." He was quiet for a long moment, "We'll take her home with us, and see if we can get April of Casey to take her from there."

* Authors Notes:

- Brea Kutzle, much like her cannon counterparts, Cameron gets her fake names from people in music and bands… Brent Kutzle is a member of One Republic (he's the one that plays the cello)

- Randle McMurphy- Main Character from 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest', not the name of the guy who was in the hospital

- Ranidaphobia, the irrational fear of frogs. Hence why this is not going to be a fun hunt.

- I do apologies to anyone who is offended by profanities, and I will try not to use many, but I am blending two worlds here, SPN is not as 'little ear' friendly as the TMNT and I'm going to try and make that work (I'm sorry, but it make absolutely no sense for Sam and Dean to be running around saying "What the shell", it just doesn't work)

- A million and one apologies… I have no idea how to make a Brooklyn accent translate… And my attempts are sparked from a combination of Raphael and Spot Conlon (Newsies), so just be kind… please…