Ch.1 (A/N; this chapter is all back story for my OC, no turtles yet)

Update: 9/29/15, I will be going back through this story an revising anything I think needs a little work, if you've already read through this, and are reading through it again, let me know what you think of the changes! If you've just found this story, enjoy!

I was on the rooftops, looking down at the city I had come to know only four short months ago. It was dark and cold, the only light was shining from the buzzing street lamps below, and the headlights of the occasional passing car. The chill of winter wouldn't keep me away, I liked to watch the people on the streets, study them almost. It was a habit I had picked up from never being able to feel included in the public eye, I was an outcast all of my life. I had gone from my childhood in Sicily, to the bustling streets of Rio, to The United States, I didn't feel accepted anywhere I went, let alone understood.

At the age of just nine my uncle and I had made one last move to the United States, to the very place he had told me he was born. North Dakota was our home for seven long years before our house was targeted, ransacked, and burned to the ground. I was lucky enough to escape the fire with minor burns and open cuts, my uncle though was lost to the flames. After that I wandered across the country-side, running the railroad until it dumped me off in the city. I knew this was the last stop, this was going to be my refuge. I never wanted to be found, I knew whatever had burned my house to the ground was something out of my control, those...things, they would come for me soon enough after they found out I hadn't perished in the fire like my uncle.

I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying to push the exhaustion from my body. It was late, and cold, and the people began to return to their homes now. Soon it would only be me out here, but I didn't mind. Being alone was something I had learned to adapt to, though at some times the notion really got under my skin.

I sighed letting my thoughts consume me as I recounted the steps of my life, I had been running for as long as I could remember... So why? Why would someone be after me? What's my story? I burrowed my hands in my jacket pockets, looking out over the endless maze of rooftops and skyscrapers, my breath a white cloud in the cool night air.

I was born in Sicily, raised by my mother, father, and uncle. I grew up there, until I reached the age of five when I was forcefully handed off to my uncle. I can hardly remember it now but sometimes I can envision my mothers face, her eyes full of tears screaming at my uncle to run, to hide me. That same night, on a small runway tucked away in the seat of a tiny private plane, I watched out the window as my parents were murdered. Impaled, actually. A faceless, massive black shadow stood over my parents limp bodies as the plane took off, the hooks of it's arms dripping the blood of the only other people I had ever known.

I was only five I didn't understand.

When we landed in Brazil, my uncle confessed to me what I had truly seen. A mutant, he said. He told me my parents had been killed by monsters. Later, when I was old enough to handle the full story, he told me of a group of scientist that had been genetically engineering humans for a while now, claiming to be creating the next link in human evolution. They had told everyone they were there to help, but really they had just been creating weapons. Turning people into monsters for their own benefit. Sometimes these test subjects would resist, they'd escape the labs and go rogue, ending in their capture or brutal murders.

Somehow I was a rogue, and so was my mother.

I was being hunted for this sole reason, yet I didn't understand, everything was becoming too much to comprehend. I didn't look like a monster, I had the body of a little girl, olive skin, hazel eyes, regular mousey brown hair. I was a child.

As I grew up I started to understand why I was different.

When I turned seven my uncle started training me in an old Japanese fighting art. He said I needed to be able to defend myself, and as the days passed and I learned the basics, he eventually granted me a weapon. A long staff with a curved blade at the end, a nagitana. You would think a stick would be simple enough to swing around, but it was tough, and practice often ended with sore muscles and more blisters than I could count.

When I turned nine I grew tired of the staff having mastered it, and asked for a different weapon, one that would fit me better. He agreed and gifted me with my second weapon, a nodachi. At only nine years old the blade was longer than me, and now even as I've grown it still rivals my height. Quickly though, I felt a deeper connection with the blade, I knew this had to be it, that this weapon had been made for me.

I trained everyday for three hours with my uncle, learning every move, every technique every kata I could muster. When I turned fourteen, I wanted to start carrying a weapon with me, so I designed a new look for my staff. Making the top half retractable, I was able to shrink it in size, a size that could easily fit into my backpacks or around my back in a sling.

The next two years I spent understanding what was so special about me and I finally learned the truth about my mother. She had been sick, very sick, refusing medical help she turned to a special group of scientists who promised her better health and a better life through genetic restructuring, she believed them... They injected her with fluids, not unlike mutagen. It made her stronger, it cured her of her illness even, but not without side effects.

With this "liquid" flowing through her veins she was able to do incredible things, she could conjure up a storm, or calm waves at the slightest movement of her hand. Whatever she had been injected with had given her influence over the elements, a feat not possible for just any human. She later learned she had been a test subject in an experiment called project 87, she was the only test subject whose injections had actually worked successfully in retaining human form.

My uncle said when I was born my parents had no idea the injections would be running through my blood also. At the age of three they found out I was gifted, gifted with the same influence over elements as my mother. That's why the scientists came looking for me. I was the only other surviving success of project 87.

When I turned ten I discovered another gift though. I was able to completely disappear into thin air. This news shocked my uncle, my mother had only one gift, and I had two?

The night my house burned down I escaped using that gift. I slipped out my bedroom window unnoticed, and I watched the only home I ever knew burn to the ground, invisible to the things standing alongside me. They were large, physically built. I assumed they were mutants only because some where more animal looking than others. One had very distinct horns protruding from his body, another resembled a lion and stood eight feet tall, broad with bulging muscles that I didn't doubt would snap my neck if given the chance.

The next day I went through the rummage of the charred house and found my weapons, unburned to my luck, and left leaving the long train ride to new York City to mourn for my uncle. It would be the perfect place to hide. Four months later I am here, safe, secure, hidden. Biting back the chill of the wind I take one last glance out over the city before climbing down the fire escape, and though I know this place is my refuge now, I wish I wasn't so alone.

A/N: This chapter is to understand where the character came from and how she got to NYC. If you want the turtles right away she meets them in chapter three.

9/29/15: Please let me know what you think! I will be revising this entire story also, so chapters will be different than what you've read before (if you've already read through). If you're just reading this I hope you liked it! And if you're reading this story for the first time, I will be trying to update with the new revisions periodically.

Thanks for reading!