Okay, so this idea came to me as I was thinking about those really crappy fictions we all know and fear. Also, there was another fic I had read which brought this subject to mind.
I was going to wait until later on next week to start my writing up for my next update, but I was trapped in that 'oh, I gotta get this written down RIGHT NOW' moment.
Anyone else always hated when the OC's (especially the teenage girls) are always instantly trusting, and almost immediately brought into the family just because they happened to pass out when the turtles rescued them? Ugh, those always make me frustrated.
So, here is my little mock fiction. Sit back, relax, and enjoy. This entertainment is something I like to call, "That One Time When Someone Turned Them Down."
Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT.
That One Time When Someone Turned Them Down
As Makayla trudged down the damp street, she cursed her brother for dragging her out into this. The night was chilly and wet from the previous rains, and fog blocked the view of the roadways ahead. The occasional barking of stray dogs could be heard, and on this side of the city, cars rarely passed. The moon was hardly visible through the heavy cloud cover, and a cold wind whipped through the teen's strawberry blonde hair.
She blinked her emerald green eyes- so much like her late mother's- heavily, trying to clear the last dregs of sleep from her mind as her boot-clad feet splashed through yet another puddle. The seventeen-year-old pulled out her phone, read through the message again and again, trying to make out any more details than what she had already gathered.
Message Received
From: Lawrence R.
Kaya BIG DEAL! Come BIG DEAL! Please come BIG DEAL!
Attchmt:
Making no further sense of the cryptic and worryingly urgent-sounding message, she clicked the 'view' option and gazed confusedly at the picture attached.
For the billionth time in the past hour, a feeling of curiosity, and trepidation, overcame her. The picture was grainy, poorly-lit with the only light source being the familiar desk lamp- the one on her brother's desk- in the background, casting shadows on the form at the forefront of the photo. The pale, chubby face of a months-old infant stared right into the lens with wide brown eyes. Tears streamed down the cranky face.
What she didn't understand was why the child was in her brother's office. He was married, but he didn't have and wasn't expecting any children.
It was this dire need to know what was going on that had gotten her out of bed at 1:37 in the morning.
As she continued walking the remaining three blocks to her brother's law office, she passed several dark alleyways, and the many crime show episodes under her belt told her to be on high alert.
Not that it mattered, it seemed.
The next thing she knew, she was against a brick wall, an arm wrenched behind her back and a foreign forearm pressing her shoulders further into the rough stone. The man- she was sure it was a man- smelled sickeningly of cigar smoke and alcohol, with a disturbing mixture of vomit and rotting fruit somewhere in there as well. Her clutch purse was wrenched from her weakening grasp, and then a gun was placed at her head as soon as the arm was removed.
"Now don' you move, hear me? You move, you dies." He said threateningly, pressing the cold metal to her scalp for a moment for emphasis. When he seemed pleased with her quiet obedience, he turned slightly away and started rummaging through her bag.
Makayla's head raced with thoughts of escape, plans going over and over again through her mind. She turned slightly, and ran.
And was caught by a bulky, intimidating man blocking her only escape route. He shoved her to the ground as she squawked timidly, not wanting to be harmed and willing to do almost anything to avoid it.
"Now's whattawe gots he'e?" Asked the smaller, mousier robber. Kaya looked up to see him holding her most recent pay, and her only financial support. She lurched to her feet.
"No! Please! I don't have anything else!" She cried desperately. He sneered, showing off his missing front teeth, then shoved her back to the ground, aiming the gun at her chest.
"You's moved. Now you's gonna dies." He said nonchalantly, as if he did this kind of thing every other day. 'He probably does', her brain reminded her, and she shivered involuntarily.
She screamed.
And the gun went off.
And everything went black.
~OoO~
All Makayla saw was black. It suffocated her, but at the same time, she was too afraid- and too tired- to leave it. Occasionally, however, she would, for moments, and she would hear clips of sentences spoken in unknown voices.
"Dudes, should we wake her?"
And then, the next waking moment was, "Her head's stopped swelling, so she should-"
And what must have been hours later, "-atience, my sons, she will awaken when-"
It was to a light headache that she finally came to. Sitting slowly, she groggily opened her eyes and looked vaguely at her surroundings.
She was in a large concrete room, fully furnished with TV and couches, and several doorways leading to somewhere different.
Rubbing a bump on her scalp, Kaya groaned and called out weakly, "Hello?"
"Hullo." Said a strange voice from right behind her, and she screamed loudly, turning jerkily to face the voice.
Oh... my...jdkalfjdklsa;fjdklsa;fjdklsa;jfkldsajfkl;djkldsajfdkl;sajfl
A giant, orange-wearing turtle was crouched on the back of the couch she was sitting on. He smiled at her, making her back away until she landed on her bum on the floor. He jumped down next to her, his hands outstretched.
"Hey, little lady, it's alright, we won't hurt ya!" He insisted, but she was having none of it. And then three more sets of hands grabbed her shoulders, holding her slightly gently in place. She screamed again.
"Woah, lady, calm-"
"Cut it out!"
"Calm down!"
She looked up until she saw who was holding her down.
More giant turtles.
Oh... my...jdkslfjdklsajfdklajfdkl;jiewmtreiteiwoqurieoqjkdgotrqtueiowqrueiowqru
And, of course, what would this freaky party be without a giant rat in a kimono?
By now her head was ready to explode with random letters.
"Miss, please calm yourself. We mean you no harm." The rat said in a deep, accented voice. She stilled, looking up at him fearfully.
"If we release you, will you stay put until we can explain?" One of the turtles above her head asked. She nodded silently after many moments. The hands on her shoulders eased off of her. She sagged against the worn coffee table, exhausted, but still keeping a wary eye on each turtle; they had all circled around to be in front of her, on the couch.
"My name is Splinter. These are my sons, Leonardo," the turtle in blue waved shyly, "Raphael," the red one grunted grumpily, "Donatello," the purple-wearing one waved enthusiastically, "and Michelangelo." The last, orange-clad turtle jumped up and down, making her flinch back a little.
And so, for the next half hour, the rat man talked on and on and on about how they were created by accident, how they had lived in the sewers their whole lives, and how he had taught them ninjitsu.
"So you see, miss, they must remain in the shadows. You are one of the few humans who has seen us."
"So, will you stay?" Michelangelo asked, getting way too close to her for her liking.
"It seems my son here has taken a liking to you. Will you keep us a secret, promising on your life not to tell anyone? And are you willing to train in the art of ninjitsu, go on missions, and save the world alongside them?" Splinter demanded patiently.
They all eyed her carefully, waiting to see what her answer would be.
Screaming, she jumped up, punched Leonardo square in the nose, and sprinted through the turnstiles to the nearest manhole, not once looking back.
Okay, so that fic I was telling you about at the top? The catalyst for this story? Well, it's way more interesting than this one, in my opinion, so be sure to check it out!
How To: Bad Fanfiction: Worst TMNT Fanfic, Like, Ever! By The Creepy-Psycho-Loner in the TMNT category. Seriously, this story is flippin' hilarious! So read it, leave a review, and then come back to this one and see if I did as well! Oh, and be sure to tell me how I did, so I can continue writing and improving my writing!
Another note: apologies to anyone who was somehow offended by this fiction. Don't like it, don't read it! Everyone has their own writing style, I just really... do not prefer those specific types of fics.
Anyway, check out my other stories too, or drop me a message with prompts or requests!
God bless!
-Bo