Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT. They belong to Nickelodeon.
So, I've decided that as a fan girl/author, a field trip is in order to the very place where the objects of my fetish reside. Yeah, that means I'm goin' to the lair. WOOHOO! :D
I'm writing this because the little maniacal plot bunnies have been hopping nonstop in my head for the past few months to put up something not only funny, but also involving the great fan girl mind. So, this was born!
I hope you enjoy it, and now, the show you've all been waiting for…
TTTTTTTT
'I can't believe I'm here! It's like some strange backwards dream, a dream I've wished for my entire life! Alright, just for the past few years, but that is a lifetime in teen years. All I have to do is pull the concealed lever like so and…YES! I'm in!'
Upon entering the cavernous room, I can't help but gape overtly, craning my neck upward to see the dome-structured ceiling. It's just like I imagined it would be! The large living area is set to my right, occupied by a miscellaneous mixture of equally worn furniture. Two dozen television screens of various sizes and models cover the right-hand wall, their blank screens reflecting the fluorescent overhead lighting. I raise my eyes to the levels above the main area, wondering absently how one would get up there without a ladder. On the edges of the main ring, there are eight darkened pentagonal doors that hint at hidden treasures inside. To the left lies a small kitchen, outfitted with a stove, a sink and an ancient refrigerator. Within the space sits a rectangular table, surrounded by a hodgepodge of chairs. The small green pool is entirely peaceful, its surface glassy smooth and undisturbed. A low bridge arcs over it, connecting the two halves of the lair.
I release a tiny shriek of excitement. Even the bricksare the right shade of red! ...Alright, maybe they aren't exactly the same, but cut me a break! This is a fan girl's dream come true!
It's shocking that I even found the turtles' lair, let alone figured out how to get inside. With maps, I'm usually as useful as a sea cucumber. However, it appears that Lady Luck is on my side for once—cue anvil falling from the sky. Just kidding; that only happens in cartoons.
I hungrily take in the interior of the lair a second time, my eye drawn to a human sized figure to the right. It's the practice dummy they use for training, slumped sadly with a considerable chunk out of its shoulder. Wouldn't that be an awesome photo? I draw my camera from my loaded backpack with difficulty, looping an arm around the dummy's shoulders. 'Now, if I just tilt it like this and then angle my head…'
At the very moment I'm about to snap my photo the turtles exit the dojo. They freeze on their trek down the ramp leading to the main area of the lair and stare, stupefied by the sight of a stranger posing with their practice dummy. I flush, knoing how ridiculous I must look. I guess there are two dummies now.
I straighten up and hide the camera behind my back, throwing the four boys a face-splitting smile.
There are a variety of reactions to my presence, illustrated perfectly on the young men's faces. Mikey resembles someone who has just swallowed a goldfish, his orange mask askew and his bright blue eyes wide with surprise. To his left is Don, his brow furrowed in confusion and his mouth twisted in thought as he slowly lowers the towel in his hand. Leo's eyes are narrowed warily on my face, his hand resting on his katana offensively and his muscles tensed in apprehension. Then there's Raph, an extreme "WTF?" expression on his face and a plastic bottle of water clenched in his hand.
I don't blame them; after all, not many mutant turtles living in the sewers expect to find a strange girl in their home with a large amount of luggage and an apparent obsession with practice dummies. They shine in the epic glow that spills out of the dojo, their expressions different but all very confused. I could die right now, and I'd be totally happy with my last few moments.
"Um…" Leo speaks up uncertainly, "Can we help you?"
I barely hold in a squeal at the sound of his voice, not wanting to come across as a maniac right away. Although, since this is coming from the uninvited stranger who up until a few seconds ago was hugging a practice dummy, that is no longer a concern. I shift my smile from muscle-shattering to friendly and muster all of my control before replying calmly, "Yes. I've wanted to meet you for a while."
Raph's hand flies to his belt and he whips out—to my surprise—a can of pepper spray which he promptly aims at my face. I fling my arms up to shield my eyes but Leo motions for Raph to lower the weapon.
"Don't startle her," he whispers, throwing me a glance, "We just have to get her out of here safely and quickly. No violence." Very subtle, Leo; unfortunately for you, I'm not leaving until I get what I want.
Mikey, who has been staring at me for the past three minutes, smiles and greets, "I'm Mikey. What's your name?"
I would laugh at Leo's look of utter disbelief toward his youngest brother's casualty around strangers, but Mikey has just asked a question that I'm intent on avoiding. I can't tell them my name for it would ruin the mystery around me. In an attempt to stall for time, I "accidentally" drop my handbag and say with feigned dismay, "Oh no!"
I crouch down and meticulously gather the spilled contents, taking extra care to arrange my lip balms in order of colour. After about forty five seconds, Raph finally explodes, "What the hell are ya doin' here?"
Ah, Raph. He's always such a gentleman, not to mention his polite and accommodating nature. I refrain from sharing my sarcastic comment because his abrupt question happens to be my saving grace. Evading Mikey's question, I reply with as much formality as one can with half the contents of her purse scattered across the floor, "I'm a writer, and I am here because I would like an interview with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."
Three of the boys relax. It is only Leo who remains hostile, his carriage more alert than it was when he first saw me. He narrows his eyes to mere slits as he asks suspiciously, "Why do you want to interview us?"
"Don't question her, Leo!" Mikey cuts in hastily, beckoning me forward with two fingers. His voice overly dramatic, he remarks, "Obviously the lady has great taste."
Who knew I could bank on Mikey's conceit? Pleased with my lucky break, I close the distance between us and come to the realization that they really are that short. They stand only two or three inches taller than me, and I'm no skyscraper.
Don clears his throat timidly and begins, "So…"
My insides melt at the sound of his voice and my smile widens as I am face to face with my biggest television crush. Somebody pinch me!
"Who do you write for?" he inquires innocently and my insides suddenly solidify again. He just had to ask that, didn't he? Stupid genius… hey, that's an oxymoron!
Swallowing to moisten my mouth, I fib smoothly, "I'm…an independent writer." Take that, Don!
"What do you write?" he asks, his curiosity roused by my vague reply.
Shoot. I fidget with my fingers, wrestling with the fact that I have to tell them the real reason why I'm here. I wish my conscience would stop telling me to do the right thing, it's so annoying.
Inhaling a deep breath, I reluctantly admit, "I'm a Fan Fiction author."
The alarm is visible in the expressions that simultaneously appear on each turtle's face following my confession. It's quite comical and I momentarily entertain the idea of retrieving my camera to take a photo. After a second's deliberation, I decide against it. I'll get some pictures when they aren't looking.
Mikey's shoulders fall and he groans, "Aw man, I thought we got rid of 'em all!" Apparently, there have been more authors like myself running around the sewers. Where were they when I got lost for two hours?
"Figures," Raph mutters, looking at me with great distaste, and he assumes his previous offensive position with the can of pepper spray in hand.
Don's disgust is that of one who has brushed elbows with the enemy and he says more to himself than anyone else, "I knew I should have vamped up the security system."
Leo's look of suspicion has been replaced by one of annoyance and he sighs exasperatedly. His voice commanding, he orders adamantly, "You have to leave."
Whoa, whoa, whoa! That's not part of the plan!
"W-wait, what?" I stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. When the statement hits me fully, my eyes widen and I object too loudly, "NO! Please let me stay?"
His face set in a frown, Leo replies in a stony voice, "No."
"Please?" I appeal again, adjusting my facial expression so it's more pitiful and less crazed.
This time, Don replies firmly, "No."
Darn it. I give Raph my best I'm-totally-not-a-weird-fan-girl smile and plead, "Please?"
"No," he snaps, and I frown, my eyebrows furrowing and my lips pressing together.
Okay, my last resort is Mikey. I put on a slightly sad but hopeful expression and look him directly in the eye, my voice softer as I ask, "Please?"
After a moment's hesitation, Mikey gives his verdict: "No."
Luckily, I am not too proud to beg and grovel. I take in a huge breath and chant, "Please please please please please please please please please please—"
"She's almost as bad as Mikey," Raph remarks as I continue my mantra of 'please'.
Thanks to my good breath control, I last over a minute, closing with a final drawn-out, "Pleeeeeeeaaassssse?"
The brothers exchange thoughtful looks with each other and for a split second I think I've worn them down.
My hopes are dashed when they reply forcefully in unison, "NO."
That's not good. Well I'll just stand here, then. It's not like they can make me move.
Suddenly, Raph steps forward and slings me over his shoulder with as much care as if I was a sack of potatoes, handbag and all.
I stand corrected; they can make me move.
As I am jostled by Raph's footfalls, I reassess the mistaken notion that being carried by a guy is romantic. Then again, perhaps it's assumed that when the man carries you, you're upright. In my present position, I have an excellent view of the tiny patterns on Raph's shell as he carries me to the exit.
With a final desperate motion, I latch onto the door frame firmly, using all of my strength to hold on. Raph jerks in surprise when he discovers that I've stopped his smooth disposal job and begins to tug, trying to force me out the door. Leo comes over to help Raph in his struggle, and my knuckles whiten on the door frame as I tighten my grip, refusing to budge.
It is then that Master Splinter walks in. As we all know, first impressions are important. So imagine stepping out of your bedroom with the intent of watching your favourite soap opera with a cup of tea and finding your sons trying to muscle a strange girl out of your home while she hangs on to the doorframe for dear life.
Small lines crinkle between his dark eyes and the soft spoken rat scolds sharply, "My sons, where is your hospitality? Be kind to our guest."
My hero! Turning my hand, I agree, "Yeah!" I'm glad that someone here is willing to stick up for me.
Leo, being an insufferable teacher's pet, immediately stops trying to detach my claws from the doorframe in an attempt to dissociate himself from my unceremonious removal and protests, "But father, she's a Fan Fiction author. She wants to interview us." Thanks for letting the cat out of the bag, Leo.
Master Splinter seems to consider the threat that a fan girl with a pencil and a big imagination poses before demanding, "Do you write about my sons in explicit ways?"
Speaking to the brick wall in front of my face, I reply loosely, "Not unless you count relationships as explicit…"
"Then it is alright," the rat replies after a second's hesitation. Bless his whiskers! His voice warning, Splinter turns to his most hostile son and orders in a tone that leaves no room for argument, "Raphael, let the young lady down."
With an unnecessary amount of grumbling, Raph dumps me on the floor, folding his arms over his chest discontentedly. That smarts. I get to my feet and rub my hip where there is no doubt a lovely, tender bruise forming. The only thing that softens the pain is the fact that Splinter's glare is tearing a strip off of Raph. Serves him right.
Master Splinter hobbles to me with one paw clutching his cane and holds out his other to shake. I smile as I return the gesture, and he turns from me to address his sons, "You will answer all of her questions honestly and appropriately." The emphasis on the final word is not lost on me or his sons.
The four brothers seethe with resentment as I grin in triumph. My smile relaxes as the rat master faces me again, wishing me the best of luck in my interview. He shuffles off and calls, "I am going to retire to my room. I will be there if you need anything."
Then, he's gone.
The next ten seconds are filled with a long pregnant pause that swells slowly, viscous like molasses. To get my interview started, I make a grand gesture toward the couch and offering graciously to the four boys, "Have a seat."
The turtles eye me as they cautiously take their seats, squeezing together on the blue couch across from the brown chair to my left. They'd rather sacrifice elbow room than sit any closer to me than they have to. Smart move.
I perch on the edge of the large brown easy chair, crossing my legs at the ankles, and set my bags and guitar case on the cold cement floor. I open my backpack and fish around the depths of the bag until I close my hands on my notebook and a pen. I flip open to a fresh page and uncap the pen, scribbling on the corner of the sheet to make sure the pen isn't dried up; then, I neatly print the date and the subject "Interview with the TMNT" at the top of the page.
I look up and nearly laugh out loud at the four brothers squashed on the couch like sardines, looking quite uncomfortable. Boys are ridiculous. Trying to sound jovial, I begin, "Alright, first question—"
"Hold on," Raph interrupts, wrestling his arm from between himself and Mikey to hold up his hand. "We have some questions for you first."
Not what I was planning on, but I decide to go with the flow. I recline slightly and make a gun gesture with my hand, replying, "Fire away."
Raph demands impatiently, "First of all, who are ya? What's yer name?"
Great, the name thing again. My tone light, I answer very simply, "I cannot disclose that, for it would take away from the mysterious façade that I am trying to create. My pen name, if you're interested, is The Light of Reason."
"Do you want us to call you Light or Reason?" Mikey jokes, looking pretty pleased with his own wit.
I give him an unimpressed look and reply dryly, "If you think you're funny, you're mistaken."
To my surprise, Raph barks out a laugh. Who knew he had a sense of humour? On second thought, who knew I had a sense of humour?
Mikey pouts slightly and crosses his arms over his chest, resembling an eight-year old as opposed to a teenager. Donatello looks exasperatedly at Raph and then Mikey before asking me, "What should we call you?"
"Um…" I stall, racking my brains for inspiration, "Jade." Yeah, Jade. I like that name, it's pretty and exotic.
Leo frowns and repeats, "Jade?"
I nod in reply. All I have to do is answer to the name Jade, and I'm good to go.
"Alright," Leo says slowly, folding his arms over his plastron as he leans back in his seat.
Tentatively, Don raises his hand like an elementary school boy, and I can't help but smile as I call on him. He matches up the tips of his fingers and announces, "I have a question."
"Yes?" I urge, flipping my pencil between my fingers out of habit and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
Don is on edge as he asks, "What do you…people write about us? Shouldn't we have a—a say in what's written?"
Au contraire, mon cher, you have no absolutely no control over the musings of the great fan girl mind.
"Well, Don—can I call you Don?" I ask, and when he nods in reply, I respond slowly, "The authors don't write anything too bad. And as for your second question, the answer is no. You have no control over what is written."
"So we don't have the right to censor?" Leo asks, sounding indignant.
Choosing my words well, for I'd like to avoid a lawsuit, I reply, "No, and thanks to that oh so useful disclaimer, we don't have lawyers breathing down our backs. Other than this, you four manipulate everything from shows and movies to comics and merchandise…although I don't think Raph got a say in the design of his action figure, seeing as his mouth looked kind of weird."
Raph straightens and demands sharply, "My mouth looks weird?"
Uh oh. I smile sweetly and change the subject by suggesting, "On with the interview!"
I poise my pen over the notebook in my lap expectantly, reminding the boys that our time is short. They relax in their seats a bit and I begin my little spiel, "I know quite a bit of general information about you guys from the show—"
"That's not creepy," Raph mutters sarcastically.
Ignoring the big baby, I continue purposefully, "I want to know the things that we viewers don't see, the way you guys really are. We'll start with something easy. Are any of you currently in a relationship?"
"What?!" They demand in unison, looking aghast and confused at the same time. I bite on my lip to keep myself from laughing and jot down "All single" drawing a small smiley face beside it.
I glance at my sheet of questions and ask, "Okay, so what is your greatest fear?"
My pen hovers eagerly over my page as I wait for their response. The four boys return my look with one that is very apprehensive and mistrusting.
"I'm afraid of scary movies and spiders," I offer, hoping the information will help them loosen up a bit.
Glancing furtively from side to side, Mikey confesses, "I'm afraid of ghosts. Man, they totally freak me out!"
Thank you, Mikey! I write it down, and glance back up with interest, hoping that my unwilling volunteers will speak up. I sigh and urge, "Come on, I won't use this against you. I just want to know more about you. It's important to be knowledgeable about the subject you're writing about."
Let's see if that will appeal to the curious researcher in Don. Don is quiet for a long moment and then he raises his hand. She shoots, she scores!
"You can go ahead Don, you don't have to raise your hand," I coax, finding his timid nature cute.
He lowers his beak and says, "I'm afraid of drowning."
"Drowning?" I repeat to make sure I heard him right. He nods, and I see a quick flash of discomfort in his eyes. I write down his answer and look back up, waiting for an answer from the two eldest turtles. I direct my attention to Leo because I know he won't tear my head off like Raph and carefully prod, "What about you, Leo?"
He sits up in his seat and after a pause replies, "I'm afraid of losing my family."
Mikey, Don and Raph's look at him in surprise, and I'm also surprised that Leo felt safe telling me that. I already knew Leo was overprotective, but it's nice that he decided to share that with a crazy fan girl who showed up randomly in his home and managed to stay there by seeking his father's aid. I write it down in my notebook and I look at Raph and ask, "What about you?"
"Fear? I ain't scared of nothin'," Raph responds, crossing his arms over his chest.
As if, tough guy; everyone is afraid of something. I give him an "are you kidding me?" look to urge him to open up, but he returns my look with one of firm resolve.
Mikey leans back in his seat and quips, "You could have fooled me, seeing as when you found that fly in your bedroom, you nearly trashed your room trying to get it."
Raph scowls and mutters, "I don't like bugs. What's it to ya?"
I quickly scribble down "Afraid of bugs" by Raph's name as Leo murmurs, "That doesn't explain why you cried when you saw a caterpillar on the kitchen table."
"I was eight, Leo!" Raph snarls. He reaches over Mikey's head to hit Leo, who dodges his attempt easily. Raph returns to his slouched cross-armed position on the couch and glowers at the air in front of his face like it has done him some great offense. I opt not to say anything more about his fear—ahem, "dislike" of bugs.
"Okay," I say in a low voice, and decide a new approach may be needed. Maybe now would be a good time to ask a lighter question. I scan my list and one pops out at me. I look up and ask, "What are your hidden talents?"
"Hidden whats?" Mikey asks, giving me a strange look.
I didn't think I'd have to break it down for these smart boys, but I guess I have to. Taking in a breath, I explain, "For example, what is Don good at that few people know about?"
Mikey frowns in thought, trying to come up with a good answer. After a few moments, Raph cuts in, "Don can stay awake for more than 180 hours straight on only coffee."
It's strange, but a talent nonetheless, so I scribble it down next to Don's name just as Leo speaks up,
"He can learn languages very quickly," the eldest brother comments. So he's multilingual? That's cool, I should write that down.
Mikey rockets off the couch and waves his hand wildly in the air as he yells out, "Don can fit 29 normal sized marshmallows in his mouth at once!" Um…no comment.
I write it down quickly and smile, instructing, "Now do the same for your other brothers."
"I know! I know!" Mikey pipes up, his face bright and eager, "Raph can drink twelve shots in under twenty seconds without hurling!" Wow, that takes a lot of control…I guess.
Don says after a short pause, "Raph can bring an engine to life in less than ten minutes, even if it's totaled." I'll keep that in mind the next time my car breaks down…if I had a car. He can fix my bicycle, I guess.
As I write down Don's reply, Leo answers, "Raph has very good balance, considering how little he practices…"
"Shut up!" Raph growls and slouches in his seat, his glare like a sword hacking at Leo's head. Okay, then.
I write down Leo's suggestion, leaving out his snide remark, and say, "Alright, what about Mikey's talents?"
"You're lookin' at it," Mikey teases as he gestures toward his body and winks at me like the flirt he is. I roll my eyes at his tease, trying not to laugh.
Raph elbows Mikey and says, "Mike can run like hell when he puts his mind to it." I can just imagine what Mikey uses his super speed for. I guess that being able to run like a cheetah would come in handy for Mikey, especially when Raph's pissed off at him about some practical joke. I write down Raph's suggestion with a little flourish, and look back up, urging someone else to say something.
"Well," Don begins, "Mikey is probably the best gamer I've ever seen." I should have known.
Conversationally I ask, "What do you play, Mikey?"
"Everything! You name it, I play it!" Mikey replies and reclines with his hands behind his head, propping his feet up on Leo's knee casually. Leo pushes Mikey's feet off of his lap and gives him a disapproving look, directing his next sentence at me.
"Mikey's an artist," he says, looking fondly at Mikey, who all of a sudden seems a little self-conscious.
"Really?" I ask, as this has caught my interest. Leaning forward earnestly, I ask, "What medium do you use?"
"Pencil crayons and charcoal mainly," Mikey replies, slightly embarrassed about the subject of his art. Mikey's obviously not keen on sharing his art, or talking about it, in front of me or his brothers.
I smile at him reassuringly and say, "I like to paint and sketch. I'd really like to see some of your work, if you'd like to show me."
Mikey shrugs, mumbling, "I'll think about it," and sits back in his seat, looking away from me.
I quickly write down the suggestions from Mikey's brothers, then say, "Now, tell me about Leo's talents."
Mikey and Don appear to be deep in thought, but after a good thirty seconds, they still haven't come up with anything to tell me about their brother's talents. My pen hovers over my page awkwardly until my arm starts to hurt, and I rest it on the page as I wait for an answer. Raph glances at Leo and smirks, saying, "Leo still manages to walk around normally with a stick constantly up his ass."
Leo gives Raph a sharp look and snaps, "At least I don't burst a blood vessel every time someone tries to help me out." And this coming from Mr. 'I have to do everything myself'.
Raph snorts and asks, "Is that all you got, Leo?"
Leo is quiet for a long moment and Raph settles back into his seat with a satisfied smirk.
Then, Leo adds almost inaudibly, "That, and you have a small dick."
My jaw drops in absolute shock—I never thought I'd hear Leo say something so crude— at the same time that Raph reaches around Mikey to smack Leo, ignoring Mikey's cry of pain. I didn't know that I'd get to witness a real Raph and Leo feud, but instead of being excited, I'm appalled by their behavior.
Clearing my throat, I try to get their attention by saying, "Guys? What about the interview?"
I'm ignored as Leo blocks Raph's hits, Raph swears fluently while throwing punches, Mikey protests to being in the middle, and Don tries in vain to stop their bickering.
Oh, that is it! I set down my notebook beside me and push myself out of my chair, marching the few steps to the couch. They don't even acknowledge my presence; fed up with their fighting, I use my weapon of mass destruction: my voice.
"HEY!" I shout as loud as I can, and the turtles freeze, looking up at me in surprise. My dad used to call me Foghorn, and the name is rightly given. Looking at them with an expression of exasperation, I say, "If you don't mind, I'd like to have an interview without the cage match. There's no need to fight each other."
"She's right," Leo says after a moment, and I relax, relieved that they are out of petty comments and derogatory statements to fling at each other. Looking at me pointedly, Leo says in a serious voice, "There's a bigger enemy here."
My blood turns to ice at his rough tone and gooseflesh raises on my skin, my heart fluttering frantically in my chest. I look up warily at the four brothers who have focused all of their attention on me, and it takes me only a second to realize their intentions.
Oh, shoot.
I grab my notebook off the chair and bolt from the living area, moving more quickly than they anticipated judging by the way they jump at my sudden movement. After a second of delay, the brothers take off after me, and I make a beeline for the only safe zone in the entire lair. I manage to slip through the sliding door of Master Splinter's room and shut it firmly behind me before the boys can catch me and press all of my weight onto the latch that opens and closes the door, holding it closed even when someone on the other side violently jiggles the screen door. I hear Raph curse on the other side, but Leo's muffled voice says with the utmost calm and certainty, "She can't stay in there forever." Just watch me.
I turn to the resident of the room who looks mildly surprised at my appearance, his kanji brush frozen inches above this sheet of rice paper and dripping dark, watery ink on the page. While I'm here, I may as well get an interview out of it. I smile at Master Splinter nervously and say, "They just need a little break. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"
"Not at all," the old rat replies and he smiles kindly, gesturing to a cushion opposite him. I gracefully take a seat on the small pillow before the tiny table littered with brushes, ink, rice paper and a partially full teacup. I adjust my bum on the seat, resting the notepad on one arm and twirling the pen in the other hand.
"So," I begin, smiling to myself as I poise the pen over the blue-lined pages, "what stories can you tell me about your boys?"
First chapter done! YES! I promise to get more of a storyline going soon, but this initiating action is kind of important. Plus, it's lots of fun : )
It's a different kind of story I'm trying to write, one less about dating and more about friendships and brotherly relations (although if all goes well, there will be a little romance). If you have any interview questions, feel free to leave them in a message or a review, and I'll see if I can use them (giving you, of course, credit for the stroke of genius you conjure up). Thanks for reading, and please review!
The Light of Reason Edited: November 19, 2012