The last thing that Hamato Michelangelo had expected was the event that unfolded before him, and he couldn't help the shivers that fear brought as it made him remember...

New York City wasn't as safe as they thought it would be. Graphic murders done with gleeful laughs and crazed eyes. Inhumane tortures as a source of entertainment. Animalistic rapes became a common occurrence. The city was loosing control of itself and its sanity.

No one came.

No one left.

Not alive at least.

And that was the miracle that allowed the Hamato family and their friends, April O'Neil and Casey Jones, to safely flee from the darkened city they called home.

The farmhouse became their safehaven once again. They all tried to forget the hell that engulfed their lives. April was almost raped by a group of five men. Casey was brought to the brink of death after being thrown in a dog fight. Splinter was held in captivity as a show rat before being rescued. Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello were left scrounging for food and shelter after the lair was destroyed for good.

And Michelangelo was tortured till the innocence radiating in his baby blue eyes finally cracked and shattered. He was starved, given only a fruit as a meal for one day. He was constantly cold, kept in a metal cage underground with no heat. They given him no water, and took his voice. When Mikey found himself unable to talk, he nearly went ballistic in fear and grief and found that not even a simple sound could he make. As they started the process of taking 'skin samples' for enjoyment, Michelangelo could only hope for death to take him before he slipped into nothingness.

The next time the orange-banded turtle awoke, he was in the back of a van with his brothers curled around him in sleep. He feared for the worst, thinking that they too were captured, but the sudden presence of his father had him calm as Splinter lovingly patted the youngest's head in comfort. Somehow, his brothers became aware that he was awake and instantly surrounded him in hugs, tears, and words that he couldn't process currently.

Donatello was the one to bandage his little brother and became alert as he realized the lack of the prankster's voice. The family became worried and angry, bickering at each other as Mikey sat between the crossfire with a ducked head and dazed eyes.

That was when April came with a tattered, brown journal. She held it out to him, offering it as a gift to use in replace of his voice. The orange-banded turtle didn't acknowledged her presence, but he cautiously reached for the journal without looking. When his fingers brushed against the worn leather was when he snatched his hand back with the aged item in hand.

He didn't bother to look at the...sad? eyes of his family.

Two months at the farmhouse and it was winter's wrath. The night before held a storm of whipping winds and snow. The land around was covered with snow and ice, not a hint of anything else to be seen. Except for the form of a turtle that continued its walk to its special place.

Michelangelo continued to walk in a peaceful manner to his goal. The lake was what he found by accident when he went out by himself after the first night in the farmhouse. When he saw it, he felt and overwhelming sense of serenity course through him and he fell in love with it. Now, with the lake frozen, the orange-banded turtle admired the view once more. The ice shimmered in the limited sunlight that broke through gray clouds and towering trees. Few small creatures were out briefly, looking for food and a place to rest. The breeze was just a gentle brush against skin. It was a picture of peace before a kid ran out onto the frozen body of water. Hair similar in color to that of a raven's feather and hazel eyes like glimmering stars were taken note of by the now hidden turtle. It was only a second before a woman with black hair like coal and storm blue eyes appeared, shouting for the kid to come back to solid ground immediately. The young boy was pouting, noticeable even from Michelangelo's hiding spot, and sullenly complied. In a flash, the amusing scene turned to one of horror.

As fast as the boy had come, he was gone. Lost under the cool darkness that swallowed him up whole after the opening of frozen lips. The screams of the mother filled the clearing, disrupting the peace.

Mikey's tears spilled down his cheeks. How? Even here, in a place of tranquility, death and pain had followed him. His body froze as the kid's body floated to the surface, his eyes seemingly focused on where the turtle stood hidden. The mother's wail of grief had called up to the Heavens and Michelangelo felt a certain need.

Swiftly, he pulled out the journal, not letting it leave his side for a second since he got it. This was his voice. He chose who got to hear it. Right now, he thinks that his voice should be heard by Death, and that it may be a farewell to the unfortunate boy.

Once finished, he placed the journal and pencil back in his belt and left without glancing back.

He couldn't handle the darkness that covers the world like a blanket, affecting people and letting innocent lives die. He couldn't understand how the world could be so cruel...