Long-time ffdotnet author/ reader here with a brand new name to start over from scratch. If the Turtles belonged to me, I wouldn't be here, would I? (That means that I don't own them nor am I claiming to, for any nitpicky lawyer-types out there.)
ChartreuseTruffles: Just call me Truffles.
Beta: None. I take offers and I will return the favor if asked.
Thanks to: Jasmine, who made me think I could do it.
Rating: T (for swearing, non-explicit nudity and future blood, imagery)
Pairings: None.
OCs: None.
Possible offense taken: If you are hyper-sensitive when it comes to having an idea about religion presented to you, turn away. Don't worry, it's just a little bit of skewing of perception plus some twisting of myth.
Warning: The following is a fanfiction that deals heavily with theology/ philosophy. Ideas expressed do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of ChartreuseTruffles.
o
Leading Monsters
o
Chapter One: Adhering to the Rules of Metaphysics
o
I exist to plague you
To rot your flesh and soul to the core
Forgive my incursion
For it is my duty
o
I live to harm you
To mutilate your being without mercy
Forgive my confrontation
For it is my task
o
I endure to deny you
To take that which you desire and need
Forgive my deprivation
For it is my charge
o
I will destroy you
And cease your being in this world
Forgive my annihilation
For it is neither my function nor purpose nor reason
But my pleasure
o
Four teenaged butts landed squarely onto the cold dirt, followed closely to the bodies attached to said butts.
One of the bodies began cursing colorfully, rubbing his arm (which had sustained a rather violent bump on the way down). "What the fuck was that? If this is another one'a Casey's practical jokes, I'mma ram shit down his throat to Tuesday-"
"I don't think so, Raph," said another helpfully from his landing point a few paces away. "I hardly think Casey has the means to dump our sorry asses into what looks to be some sort of alternate dimension. I could be wrong, seeing as the trip was way to sudden to be caused by any sort of shift in the spatial/temporal layer division like what we've ever experienced before, but then again, I don't think it makes any difference here. I mean, look at this place. Does it look even a bit like 56th Street to you?"
"You lost me at special/tempura."
"Never mind."
"Yes mind", admonished a third, rising from the dank, stale fog which surrounded the four fallen. "I am not taking any risks, Raphael, and neither should you. Be on your guard. Don, is there any way to find out where we are?"
"Last I figured was the cross-section between 56th and Mirage. Though we seem to be a long way off from there. I do have my equipment, though, we could- shit. Uh, never mind, I don't."
"Ow… my head. Guys? Help."
The one standing up rushed over to the side of the last one, grabbing hold of his forearms to hoist him to a sitting position. He nervously held four fingers up in front of the other's face. "Mikey, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"You're holding up fingers? Man, I can't see anything in this fog. Wait, fog? Since when is it foggy in the Big Apple in the middle of July? Where are- ow ow ow!"
"I can't believe it. You landed on your head."
"Wow, Mikey, another fall like that and you could win this year's Worst Ninja award. The grand prize- a hundred whacks from Splinter and my chores for a week."
"Sssh-! I hear something."
The bantering figures fell deathly silent for a moment as they strained their ears- in the distance, they could make out the cawing of some bird. The sound echoed almost piteously, growing fainter and fainter with each choked call before it disappeared altogether.
The fog began to let up slightly, and the eldest frowned, brushing black bangs out of his eyes. "Okay, I am most definitely worried now. Where is everybody? Report call."
"Just peachy over here, Fearless," grumbled the first to speak, named Raphael. "I'mma try to find you, I think I can sorta see you from here."
"I'll wave. See it?"
"Yeah. Hold up, there's some nasty thorny vine stuff on the ground."
There was a silence, and the leader, Leonardo, frowned again. "You all right, Don? …Don! Donatello, answer me!"
Finally, a tentative, if uncomfortable answer floated across the chilly stale air. "I'm fine. I'm coming too- this fog's starting to lift."
From the leader's knees, the last figure attempted cheeky humor. "I feel absolutely terrific, sir, just awesome and righteous and… holy Playstation, naked."
"I told you I didn't have any equipment", said Donatello, emerging from the fog to his eldest and youngest brothers' sides and looking terrifically uncomfortable. "I just didn't mention that we are all utterly bare as the day we were born (most likely), too."
Leonardo seemed lost. "How the heck didn't I notice?" He could now feel the wind freezing his skin in places he really didn't want frozen.
"I didn't notice either, until I remembered to check for my bag. Look, this place-"
Raphael was the last to congregate, picking a thorn from the sole of his foot. He interrupted angrily, "Great. Just great. We get dumped into this weird endless dirt ocean covered in thorny stuff and dirt and this stupid fog and to top it all off, we don't have our clothes or weapons- oh, shit, we don't have our WEAPONS."
Something akin to fear or panic crossed the boys' faces.
Finally, Donatello spoke up, hand over his mouth in concentration. "So, let me get this straight. Approximately eleven at night, regular scouting down 56th. Soon as we jump that really wide gap from that tall apartment complex to Bei-Fong Feng Shui International , we somehow lose our bearings and land here. Without our clothes or weapons, or any clue what's going on. Were there any sort of irregularities about what you did today?"
"None to speak of. Homework, training, and that's about it."
"Screw homework. I was at Casey's the whole day, and landed a great prank on him, too, which was why I thought it might be him at first."
"Vid games, man. Whole day. Beat my old high score by at least three thousand points, too. Nothing weird."
Donatello's face screwed up as he hesitated briefly, staring at his hand. After a pause to gather his thoughts, he said, "If, and I do stress 'if', we did get somehow transported to another layer of existence that doesn't adhere to the rules of metaphysics of our previous journeys across space and time, there is a possibility that the transportation doesn't include anything other than organic material-"
"Like the time we-"
Michelangelo was shushed with a swift knuckle to the head.
"Yes, like that. It's honestly the most reasonable, logical explanation. But I doubt it."
Leonardo's head snapped back from it's position monitoring the slowly clearing sky. "What? Why?"
"Because of this."
Leaning in, Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo craned their necks to see what Donatello was pointing to- a small black X mark on the back of his left hand.
"What is that- did you do that with pen?"
"Yes. It's so I can control my dreams- after the whole business with Draco and the Ultimate Ninja, I wanted to stop waking up in a cold sweat every night, so I looked into a relatively low-tech solution. It works by getting me into the habit of checking if I'm awake or asleep every time I see the X and I'm reminded to pinch myself. When I am reminded while I'm in a dream, I can control what happens or even wake myself up. But see, why is it still on my hand?"
A look of comprehension dawned Michelangelo's face. "It's not gone- but it should be!"
"It's not part of your body," muttered Leonardo. "Clearly, this isn't the regular ordinary dimension-hop, or my name isn't Leonardo Hamato."
"Like any sort of dimension travel is regular or ordinary," Donatello interjected, kneeling to sift through the dry sand beneath his bare feet.
"I don't care about all this dimension-X-travel stuff. I just want to pummel whoever's responsible into a pile of their own shit." Raphael's voice was getting low- and extremely dangerous. He was angry- he was livid- he felt utterly helpless, and there was nothing he could do about it.
There was nothing the brothers could do but stay alert, sit down on the dirt absolutely naked, and wait for the fog to clear.
The bleak emptiness of the world surrounding the brothers was indeed clearing up. A chilly, biting wind was slowly banishing the mist, revealing a vast, dry desert of cracked stone. There was the occasional random boulder or a scraggly, withered tree, but otherwise the landscape was completely flat. The only sounds were the whisper of the wind against the ground, and there were no smells save the strange, stale odor of something very, very old. There seemed to be no color- or at least, a very muted color scheme.
Quietly, Michelangelo drew his knees to his chest and muttered, "This place gives me the hella creepers. It's like it was painted by some severely depressed painter guy who only has gray on his palette."
"It does," agreed Donatello, staring at his hands.
"Shut up, Mikey. For once, So what now, Fearless?"
"What do you mean, what now?"
"You want to hang around, waiting for something to happen?" Raphael could feel a queer sort of pounding in his temples. Standing up didn't work; no matter what he did, he couldn't calm down. Not when there was nothing he could do. Not when he didn't have a choice in anything.
Arms crossed, totally nude and staring his supposed younger brother down with a grim expression, Leonardo looked an awful lot like a Greek statue… albeit one that had the Japanese character for 'turtle' tattooed on his back. , "Yes."
"Get it through your head, Leo. Nothing'll happen unless we do something."
"What can we do?"
"Anything!" Raphael bellowed, blood boiling. "Walk! Find something! Anything other than staying still."
The wind grew colder, and the already dim sky began to darken, but the four paid the world no attention.
Leonardo rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. "No. One, we are going to stick together. Two, I am not following you on your harebrained run across this… desert-thing. Three, I am the leader. Or are you going to question that, Raphael?"
"What?"
"Watch where you're going, dude!" grimaced Michelangelo, pretending to swat at Raphael when he lunged forwards. "My line of sight right now ain't exactly beautiful."
"Michelangelo, stop being such a pest."
"What? I was just trying to lighten the mood. Right, Donny?"
He was answered by a swift nod. Donatello looked more uncomfortable than ever, and he was clutching his stomach. His head was pounding.
The brothers began shouting, voices raised, forgetting that they were to be wary of their surroundings, forgetting their lessons, forgetting themselves, forgetting everything. The wind began howling. The land shook ever so slightly in an erratic beat, and spider web-thin cracks formed at the brothers' feet.
Four pairs of monster eyes watched them, shivering in anticipation.
o
Cast
Leonardo Hamato: 16: The supposed eldest of four teenage ninjas. Quick to blame himself for the tiniest of mishaps or faults. Responsible, capable, and idealistic, if not overly so.
Raphael Hamato: 16: Has a second-best complex and bears a fierce rivalry with Leonardo. Often angry, though sarcastically witty and very loyal at heart.
Donatello Hamato: 16: Genius-level IQ but somewhat warped perspective/priorities. Introverted and a deep thinker, leading to a very reclusive, machine-like lifestyle.
Michelangelo Hamato: 16: The 'youngest' of the Hamato Brothers. Cheerful and exuberant, but not the brightest bulb. An obsessive, grating, persistent nuisance at times.
o
It is now approximately 2:30 in the morning. I should be sleeping, I have nude figure tomorrow. I am also hungry and about to kill myself for coming back to ffdotnet.
Sorry for that very vague, extremely conversation-oriented first chapter. There will be minimal (or at least less) dialogue in the next few.
A) Yes, this is a reincarnation of the brothers as humans. I'll update my deviantART page (found in my profile) with the character designs soon.
B) I'll explain the timeline as clearly as I can- this takes place within my own comprehensive mashup of ALL of the Turtles' series. Yes, this isn't exclusive to the cartoons or comic. This means that there will be elements of Next Mutation, the currently running comic, even the concert tour.
NO WORRIES- you won't be left hanging wondering just what the characters are referencing. This section is a standalone and you don't really need to know the story much- I'll make sure you can infer the meaning from the hints. I WILL get around to polishing the original chronicle (a couple hundred pages and four years' sleepless nights worth of raw material) and uploading it, when I'm not busy at art studio.
C) Subject to sudden hiatus, though I promise the next chapter's coming in either one or two nights. Thou hast been warned.
PS- The thing with the X on your hand really works, but I've never done it because I've nearly always been able to have 'vivid dreams' without trying. Draw an X on your non-dominant hand and whenever you see it, lightly pinch yourself or think hard about whether you're awake or asleep. You'll end up doing it even during a dream because you've built up the habit, and when you do realize it's a dream you can force yourself awake, or better yet control your actions. Flying is fun, for example, or bedding your favorite celebrity.
Please review. I smile every time I get a comment.