Yes, I have been writing again. Bear with me, I am out of practice.

My goal here was to write a story that my daughter could enjoy (looking back at my other stories, it is plain to see that there are not many among them that I would want my--or anyone's--ten-year-old seeing). So there is no swearing ("Oh, shell" and what the shell" notwithstanding) or really graphic violence, but there is action and the same kind of whatnot you'd see on the cartoon. Please don't take that to mean it is going to stink (I hope it doesn't stink, anyway)

It is based in the recent cartoon universe, post City At War, but pre-Exodus. This chapter may be slow, but the story will pick up speed!

SHADOWPLAY

Chapter One:

The Game

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Move forward silently… be stealthy… like a cat stalking its prey… like a wolf in the night… like a…

Crunch.

Donatello's eyes widened and he looked at his brother, who was standing in the bright lights at the center of the alley, reaching into a bag of potato chips.

"Mikey, could you please not do that right now?" Don scolded quietly.

"Do what?" Michelangelo asked, tucking the bag under one arm and opening a bottle of soda.

Don grabbed the bottle and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. "We're supposed to be…" he stopped suddenly, listening to the sounds that echoed off the buildings around them. "Did you hear something?"

He crouched low and listened more intently.

Crinkle… crunch.

"Mike! Would you get into the…" Wait… was that laughter?

A dark form plummeted from the rooftops above them and landed on top of Michelangelo, sending the chips flying out of his hand. A moment later, another shadow sprung from behind a dumpster and grabbed Don, spinning him in a circle and bouncing him off a rubberized trashcan. Don fell onto his face on the concrete, the canvas bag he had slung over his shoulder landing on the back of his head with a thud.

Definitely laughter.

"Tag! You're it!" Raphael chuckled, still standing on Mike's chest.

Don climbed to his knees and spit the gravel out of his mouth. "Thanks a lot, Mikey. You couldn't have waited until the game was over to have a snack?"

"I had the munchies."

Raph stepped off Mike's chest and offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. "Yeah, give the kid a break. He's a growing turtle," he snickered.

Leonardo slid into the light and reached down, picking up the now-empty potato chip bag and throwing it into the trashcan that he had just bounced Don off of. "You have to admit, Mikey, that wasn't very discreet."

"Yeah, well what about the brain over here?" Raphael said, jabbing a thumb in Don's direction. "What the heck was that, anyway? Double-O-Turtle?"

"I was trying to be stealthy," Don said. "Or is that not the point of stealth tag?"

"I wouldn't say that you were exactly one with the shadows," Raphael elbowed him in the arm. "That bag of yours is gonna be the death of ya', bro. Sticks out like a sore thumb."

"Where else am I supposed to keep all my gear?"

"If it makes you feel better, Donny, I like your bag!" Mike said. "Mind if I see it real quick?"

Don pulled the bag closer. "I don't think so."

"Come on, guys," Leo said, beginning to walk down the alley. "Game's over for tonight. Let's head home."

Don fell into step beside him. "Why do we keep doing this, Leo? I mean, not that it wasn't fun the first, oh, fifty times or so…"

"Because Master Splinter says so," Leonardo broke in. "Because we're all a little out of practice."

"But why put me and Donny together?" Mike asked. "I mean, wouldn't it be better if I was with Raph or something?"

"Aw, I'd love to team up with you, bro," Raph said, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "You're all that and a bag of chips."

"Yeah, chips!" Mike reached over to Donatello's side and tried to unzip his bag.

"Seriously," Don said, slapping Mike's hand away. "Let's me and you team up next time, Leo."

"Yeah, and me and Raph," Mike said. "Then you guys can remind us what we gotta do."

"We should be no reason for us to remind you," Leo said. "Just remember what Master Splinter told us: Learn to discipline yourself and no one else will have to."

"So?"

"So discipline yourself, knucklehead," Raph said, cuffing Mike on the shoulder.

Leo sighed. "You have to learn to ignore the small stuff. Disregard car alarms, cats, traffic, or anything else that doesn't matter. Don't even let yourself be distracted by your heartbeat or the sound of your breathing. I mean, what were you listening to when you were supposed to be listening for us? We were following you guys for blocks and you never even knew we were there."

"At least I was in the dark," Don said, looking over at Mikey. "More than I can say for some people."

Leo shook his head. "That's another thing. It isn't enough just to be in the dark, you have to be part of it. If you're lighter than the shadows, you'll be seen. If you're darker than the shadows, you'll be…"

He stopped suddenly, placing a finger to his lips and backing into the gap between two buildings. His brothers followed, pressing themselves against the wall and straining to hear what had attracted his attention.

Leo pointed at a building that lay beyond the alley--past a barbwire-topped fence and a couple hundred feet of grass-grown parking lot--then held his hands up to his eyes, forming the shape of a pair of binoculars. Don nodded and unzipped his bag, reaching inside as quietly as he could; a sudden rustling sound broke the silence and he froze. Don gritted his teeth and slowly brought a package of pretzels into view. Raph and Leo stared at him for a moment, then they all turned towards Michelangelo.

"Well, I had to keep it somewhere," Mike whispered. "I ain't got pockets in my shell, you know."

Don put the pretzels back into the bag and worked his hand down past apples, bottles of soda, and what may have been a kiwifruit. "How much stuff did you put in here?" he snapped.

Mike shrugged. "It's just a light snack."

"For who? The entire Triceraton…"

Leo threw his hand over Don's mouth as a man with a rifle walked towards them, just inside the fenced area. He stopped and squinted into the shadows of the alley, then stepped closer, peering past the chain links. He reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out a small black device, placing it to his mouth.

"Northeast side, all clear," the man said, then put the walkie-talkie away and marched off.

When the man was out of sight, Leo lowered his hand and Don let out a breath. He reached into his bag again, working his way past Mikey's goodies, to the myriad of gadgets below. Ammeter, ShellCell, PDA, night-vision camera, BattleShell remote… he identified each item as he felt it. Ah, my binoculars!

He pulled the field glasses out and removed the lens caps, then flipped a couple switches, activating them. Don grinned; he had made these when he was twelve, and they still worked perfectly.

"You can't do anything simple, can you, Donny?" Raphael said, poking the binoculars.

"Simple is boring."

Don looked through the eyepieces and zoomed in on the distant structure. People roamed around the base of the building, shining flashlights here and there along the ground. The only light from the building itself came from a single room on the fifth floor, though Don couldn't see inside because of a heavy curtain that hung there. Focusing his attention back to the surrounding area, he saw that there were several large trucks parked out front, all backed up to the doorway in a semicircle. A bevy of coverall-clad men were skittering around, carrying all manner of items; he saw cables, computer equipment, chairs… and crates with a red symbol stamped onto the side.

"Uh, oh," Donny whispered.

"What is it?" Leonardo asked.

Don handed Leo the binoculars. "Look at the boxes."

Leonardo peered through the eyepieces, then looked back at his brothers, scowling. "It's the Foot."

Continued...