The turtle brothers were walking down an empty alleyway on a cool midnight of March. They had just finished taking care of a battle of bandits who had been planning to break into the city's bank. Now, the streets were quiet except for the brothers whom were having a loud conversation.
"Leo, man, you're my idol!" Michelangelo told him with confidence. "You took out more guys than all of us!"
"Hey, I was second to 'im!" Raphael forced. "I feel like I got in a lot o' good swings."
"Yeah," Donnie turned to Raph. "You actually clocked me a few times back there..." He rubbed his temple from soreness. Raphael placed his hand on the back of his brother's shell in a bit of embarrassment, but chuckled at his misfortune.
"Mikey," Leo began, "thank you for the compliment. But you know you can be just as good as me or anyone here?"
"But I've been training as long as you guys have and I'm not nearly as good! I keep screwing things up. Tripping, knocking stuff over—I'm surprised I don't have two left feet..."
"To be honest," Donnie commented, "you never really focus on what's in front of you…"
"If you came to trainin' as often as we do," Raph explained, "and stopped playin' video games, then maybe you would be. I mean, you can't even beat one of us in a fight if you tried. And Donnie's right. Just face it; you're scatterbrained."
Mikey tried to argue, but couldn't find the words at first. Once he did, however, he grinned and said, "Maybe...But I bet I could beat you at Black Ops?"
The brothers laughed.
Now close to a nearby manhole, the brothers jumped down below. However, Mikey hadn't leapt right away. He had become distracted by a quick shadow in an alleyway forked from where he was standing. Mikey looked back at the open manhole listening as the turtles conversation and laughter softened the farther they walked away.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll just be gone a second," he told himself. "They won't even know I'm gone..." As he stepped slowly and silently down the way, he called to the open air, "Anyone there? I'm up for another fight!" He stepped a bit further. "Come on now, I don't bite! Hard..." He chuckled. That was something that Raph would have said, he thought. "Show yourself!"
He paused when a suspicious empty can rolled out from behind a nearby dumpster.
Michelangelo pulled out his Nunchaku and inched his way closer. He held a grin on his face ready for another confrontation. "This time, I need to focus. Focus…" Now near the edge, he held his weapons in tight fists ready to strike. But just before he could round the corner of the large bin, a hand reached around from behind and Mikey received a face full of what felt like flour.
He spun around to see who had struck him, however was no longer able to open his eyes. The dust coated his eyes in a thin layer, burning them and making him temporarily blind. His lungs were now filled with the dust making it extremely hard to take a breath. Mikey coughed angrily and wiped the substance off his face as quickly as he could to take in a gulp of clearer air. Through the violent coughing, poor Mikey soon begun feeling disoriented and faint unable to catch a breath.
Mikey rushed to a nearby rain puddle and splashed his face and, without care, drank some of it to dislodge the grainy sensation from his throat. Finally able to breathe without coughing, he stood with weapons drawn now very dizzy and angry at whomever hit him in the first place, more ready than ever to beat the living hell out of someone. But the person had gone. And Michelangelo was all alone. This left him questioning who that was in the first place. It couldn't have been a random pedestrian pulling a prank or anything; they would have run at first sight of Michelangelo...Debating on how methodical it was, there wasn't really much to it. Just to sneak up behind and blind. Then, run away. It was almost like it could have been a teenager. But most obviously, if anyone laid eyes on Mikey, they'd run away in a panic, not pull a prank on him.
He wiped some of the substance off his forehead to examine. It was grey like ash and had a powdery texture. What was it? It didn't look anything like what the Foot Clan usually used as a weapon. And the poor planning of attack was far below them.
Mikey had to get back to his brothers right away and report to them what happened. However, the walk home was more difficult than ever before. He kept passing perfectly good manholes to jump down, but the thoughts felt like they were being sucked from his mind leaving him traipsing from alley to alley.
Eventually, he was able to focus just enough to get to the sewers, however, walking down the empty corridor seemed like it was taking much longer than usual, for the end seemed like it was continuously becoming longer, extending outward, like a suspenseful scene in one of the many scary video games he played.
He reluctantly made it to the front entrance of his home without fainting. When he reached for the handle to open the door, he stopped in his tracks. The pipes, all the ones on the walls surrounding him...started to move. They twisted and waved until the ends of the pipes all turned to Mikey in a hissing sharp-toothed smile.
But...But how?
Panic-stricken, he began swinging his Nunchaku at the walls and ceiling trying his hardest to strike the now lively serpent-like pipes before they could attack. The fear he felt just then was unreal.
Leonardo heard his angry shouts and rushed outside. Instead of helping however, he stood in confusion watching his little brother swinging continuously at nothing at all.
"Mikey!" he called trying to get his attention. Michelangelo turned to Leo then back at the wall. The pipes had returned to their original places. He looked back at Leo mortified. "Are you alright?" To tell the truth, he really wasn't. But how was he to explain?
Too embarrassed for words, he walked on by him and through the door leaving Leonardo confused and concerned.
Reaching the kitchen sink, Mikey splashed water in his face and swirled it around in his mouth to spit, making sure if the reason why he was seeing things and feeling so strange was because of that powder, he wanted it out of his body pronto. But thinking on it, the powder was probably running through his veins by now since he could feel a faint, thin layer of coating in his lungs.
Leo caught up to him and laid a comforting hand across his shell.
"Mikey..."
He looked up at him, clearly scared.
"Are you feeling alright? What was that out there?"
He opened his mouth to tell him everything he suspected was going on. However, as he tried to say even one word, his tongue tied in his mouth. All he needed to get out was 'Foot Clan.' But for some reason, his own body wouldn't allow it.
Frightened beyond belief at what the Foot Clan may have done to him, he did the only thing his body was able to and shook his head. Then, he ran upstairs to his bedroom.
Pacing back and forth now trying to think of a way to tell them what happened, Mikey thought about writing it down. He rushed over to his desk grabbing the nearest pencil and paper. To his disbelief, with every attempt, the pencil only scribbled nonsense.
Mikey threw the pencil enraged.
What had the Foot Clan done? Michelangelo was physically unable to speak or write, he was having hallucinations, feeling dizzy...Whatever they were up to this time, it was frighteningly brilliant. And Mikey had the undeniable thought that they actually might get away with it this time. Whatever they were up to...
Having no other ideas, he plopped down on his bed and tried his hardest not to think about what happened. But he couldn't help himself.
If only, he thought to himself, I'd have stayed with my brothers instead of wandering off alone...Maybe the guys are right. You are scatterbrained...He thought even deeper on the matter. Farther than he should have. You're a disappointment to your family. You can't do anything right…And now look at you. You may have just started an unbeatable war.
After scolding himself for a few more minutes, he passed out from stress.
