Italics are flashbacks

Bold is thought

Warnings: Blood, Gore. Mikey/Raph onesided

Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT. The show would be on adult swim with vampires, blood, and even more gore if I owned it (WHICH I DON'T!)

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''Hey Donnie, could zombies be real?" a twelve-year-old Mikey asked his older brother Don.

They were at the lair, watching a new horror movie that they had rented. It was all about zombies, and it was gory, which scared the youngest turtle. However, he wanted to keep watching the movie so did not make a move to get the remote. Mikey did wish that they hadn't put so much blood into the movie even though it was so fake it looked like ketchup. He looked over at his obviously overworked brother with a curious eye. Mikey had dragged the techno turtle from his new makeshift lab in order to relax him. It was obvious to everyone that Don was at the end of his wire, and he needed to have a bit of fun. I don't think he's having any yet… Mikey though to himself with a groan. The plan was not working!

"Mikey, it's impossible to reanimate dead flesh, you know that. So no, they aren't real." Donatello replied with impatience lining his words.

The second youngest turtle had been dragged out of his room, during one of his projects, and had been forced to watch a video with his younger brother. On days where he did not have something to do, the purple-cladded ninja would not have been annoyed at watching a bad horror flick with his younger sibling. Today, though, was not one of those "okay" days. He was overloaded, with people breaking stuff all over the place and new ideas for inventions popping into his head every couple of minutes. It was torture! Donatello looked over at the remote, wishing that he could just grab the remote selfishly and turn off the TV so that he could go back to work. Looking over at Mikey, though, he gave a sigh and crossed his arms with the realization that he could not do something that hurtful to Mikey. He was his little brother after all.

"Should I still put a stake under my pillow, though? Just in case?" Mikey asked, giving the fake scared expression that he used to make everyone laugh.

"Those are for vampires, Mikey, not zombies…" Don laughed, relaxing a bit at Mikey's naivete when it came to mythological creatures.

There are such creatures… Mikey thought in horror and fear, near to silence of his mouth did not do anything for long, though. Soon there were screams, bursts of pained yells that pierced the frenzied New York air like bullets into a helpless body. Normally, the orange clad turtle on the roof of a building in the less wealthy part of New York would have run towards those screams, but not today. On this particular midnight, Michelangelo Hamato was the one who was screaming. He had no idea where the shadow figure in front of him had come from or why it was punching and clawing into the turtle like an animal, but compared to fighting for survival, those questions were stupid. Michelangelo's blood dripped onto the dark cement roofing of the building, making small, black ponds on the gray surface. He swung his nunchakus at the figure, hearing small whacks and even a few large ones as he drove the creature back and took the upper hand. However, it was not even a few seconds before the monster conquered the young turtle again, driving him near the edge of the building.

"Lay off, dude…" Mikey growled through clenched teeth as he felt his feet move backwards unwillingly.

The animal said nothing, deep growls being only the reply to Mikey's own growl. His punches and kicks increased in rapidity and power, forcing the turtle backwards and backwards towards the small ledge that separated anyone from a nasty fall into a semi-hidden, dark alleyway. It was not long until Mikey's feet scratched that ledge. The scratching sensation on the calloused feet of the youngest turtle was not for long, though, as a hand barrelled into his plasteron. Giving a weak cry, Mikey felt his arms scrambling in the air for some unknown thing to grab his arm and hoist him up, dropping his nunchakus in the process. It was futile to do that, he realized with a loud cry, because he was already halfway down to an almost certain death.

"You will have to remember to land gracefully if you fall," Mikey barely heard Leonardo tell them.

Splinter-Junior, as Raphael called him sometimes, was in charge of the 13-year-old turtles today, including training, due to Splinter's sudden illness. The leader did not complain about such responsibility, he was the leader after all, but Michelangelo knew that he was stressed. Taking care of brothers could do that, the youngest turtle knew, especially when the brothers included Raphael. No matter how much he felt for his oldest sibling, Mikey could not help but think that Leonardo was one of the most boring teachers ever in existence. Good thing this guy doesn't actually teach… Mikey thought to himself, giving a bit of a laugh as the thought raced through his brain like cold water.

He did not pay attention to Leonardo's demonstrations on landing, too focused on when the next couple of issues of comic books would be in. Mikey did not hear Leonardo telling them how to do it and then asking for them to try it. The only thing that brought the orange-wearing turtle out of his daydream was a whack on the back of his head. It was a whack that could only be performed by his second-oldest brother, Raphael.

Mikey, eventually, was forced to try the landing by his brothers, even though he had not learned how...

Practice session ended when the turtle broke both legs by accident while trying to land.

The fall from the building had not been a graceful fall.

The shadow figure, meanwhile, studied the broken body of the turtle below and licked his full set of fangs like an animal right before he mates. He raised his barely bruised and scratched right arm to his mouth, those horrible set of fangs, and bit his arm roughly. Blood from his arm started to pour out in a way similar to a falling cascade as he gave a small hiss, jumping off from the building. The specter landed next to Michelangelo, nuzzling his soon-to-be mate's throat lovingly before biting it passionately. Michelangelo was still partially conscious during this biting, gasping in horror and pleasure, somehow. The nearly dead wrist, meanwhile, bequeathed its black elixir on Mikey's plasteron and where his wounds were the worst.

The blood sank into now willing flesh, but it caused the helpless turtle to start having a seizure of sorts. The figure kept his teeth in the turtle's neck and his one good arm on the Mikey's chest to keep his new mate from hurting himself during the change. This desire to keep his mate unhurt was not a personal choice, but just an instinct. Still, instinct or love aside, the specter kept Mikey under his control as the turtle gave silent shrieks. The new black blood was circling in his veins, destroying the delicately mutated blood in the frenzy of a mass slaughter. This painful process continued as the sea green turtle burst into even more severe spasms that nearly threw off his attacker. His skin lightened extremely, the green nearly draining completely out of now cold skin as all of his wounds started to heal. The bruises lightened as the bleeding under the skin was consumed in the fire of unfeeling onyx blood. There was still pain though as Michelangelo teeth fell out and were replaced by sharp, shark-like fangs that were very similar to the specter's own teeth. Blue eyes, which held so much innocence, turned into a corrupt pinkish purple. As the spasms started to subside, the figure stopped biting Mikey's neck and stood up, blood still draining out of his, at this instant, shriveled wrist. He just looked accusingly at the turtle, as if it was the turtle's fault that he had come and bestowed this gift. Mikey looked at him back, raising himself off of the ground slightly, crying out in pain as he opened his eyes fully. Everything looked so dull to newly innocent eyes, so lifeless, except for the live creatures around him. They were shining jewels in grayish tones, their hair shining like diamonds while their blood was molten gold. The specter did not look like the rats around him did, and he instinctively knew that he, himself, was just as dull in his creator's eyes. The figure put an unnaturally white hand on Mikey's own clawed turtle hand, looking into the same colored eyes.

Without a sound, the calming hand was removed from the turtle's hand and the cold immediately swept in. Mikey shivered, feeling his mate leaving just as sudden as he had come. He found himself alone and felt pure fear because he did not know what to do. Mikey's new blood gave him the strength to eventually stand up, and to move. It was like getting up in the morning, that essential queasiness and motor deadening that comes from being still all night. Just as in waking, he started to feel that adrenaline rush that comes with finally getting out of bed. The senses awoke, and Mikey started to smell blood, even feel it coursing under his fingertips like a never ending waterfall of pleasure. What was even more powerful then his black blood was the blood from the innocents that were walking around at night. It was an intoxicating smell, a smell that he wanted so badly, but did not need. He did not need anything, anymore really, he also instinctively knew.

"Michel…Mikey…angelo…" Mikey creaked out of dead lips, his mouth forming an "O" as he moved back slowly.

Even in this state, he knew he had to be in the shadows. Someone had told him that it was dangerous to walk amongst the bright, human, angels. It was a person who used to be very important to him. Mikey put both of his clawed hands on his face and let out another scream, though he did not wish it. The talons sunk into his face like needles and black blood fell to the ground. A foreign voice pierced the air…louder, louder, and louder. It was screaming, his own blood-curdling scream. He couldn't stop screeching as he effortlessly jumped up to the top of the building that he had, unknown to him, been pushed off from. Michelangelo could not have done that before, but he could now due to his new body. He did not think about what he had done though, instead the animal ran. An animal loose in the city; a hunt was now on…

"Donnie, should I keep some kind of protection on me for zombies?"

"No."

Donatello was wrong.

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So… that's my first chapter of this ficcy! Don't worry if you don't get why Mikey is out alone uptop in the middle of the night because there is going to be a second chapter.

Read and Review, please! ^^