Here it is! The chapter you have all been waiting for. Author's note: updates may be slow do to this debate project that's due this Wednesday. Disclaimer: I don't own Ninja Turtles.

Using a crane, the container containing the now human Mikey was lowered onto the ground. The bio fluid began to drain down. Once it was completely empting, someone operating a large drill unscrewed the lid. Another man was on a ladder and removed the breathing mask and cut off the artificial umbilical cord. A second man helped the other man bring Mikey down to the floor.

Bishop could only watch this process happening with growing excitement. So far his creation was a success. He wondered if it will stay a success. He also couldn't help observe details about the human boy like his hair color, skin color, and his build. To a human girl, Mikey was quite handsome.

Mikey was placed in front of Bishop, and Bishop made a mental note to provide the boy with some clothes. For now, it was time to wake him up.

Mikey's POV

My eyes slowly opened and everything came into focus. I was in a laboratory. How did I get in here? I groaned softly as I tried to hack my memories for some explanation but found none. My mind was devoid of memories. Still, the world felt new to me.

Everything felt new like I was a baby who was just born into this strange and curious world. Not only this world felt new, but I felt new. Why I felt like this I had no idea, but my brain was telling me to observe myself so I did. I looked at my hands – five fingers – and my feet – five toes. Why was that a revelation? Doesn't everyone have five fingers and toes on each hand and foot? I touched my cheeks and felt…skin! Why is that such a big deal? Still, everything about me felt new.

My body shivered. I was cold, wet, and naked. Someone handed me a blanket and a mirror. I wrapped myself in the old and worn blanket and took a look at myself in the mirror. I had brown eyes, but they were different somehow. I don't know how they were different. Didn't I always have these eyes? I noticed my brown hair and ran my fingers through it. It was wet but silky and long. I noticed that some of it almost covered my eyes. My hair left my ears exposed, and it ended at the back of my neck. I had a mop-top hair style. But the feeling of having hair seems such a big deal, but I don't know why. What was I in the past? I realized that I can see my ears! What's the big deal if I could see my ears? Was I once blind?

"Welcome to the world, Michelangelo," said the man wearing a suit and glasses.

I instantly turned my head around. His voice sounds scary, and I felt fear inside of me. Why was I so afraid of this man? Who is he? For some reason, the name Michelangelo is the only thing that's truly familiar to me. I know it's my name. Then the word "Mikey" comes to mind. That sounds familiar, too. I also really like the sound of that. I guess this was my nickname, but this man doesn't call me Mikey.

"Who are you?" I ask.

The man's expression is one of surprise. "You do not remember me?"

"No." Listening to the sound of my voice made me realize that I have a surfer's accent, but that realization doesn't give me this feeling of new like everything else has. I guess I always had a surfer's accent.

The man smiled. "Interesting."

Why is that so interesting?

"My name is Agent Bishop, Michelangelo," the man in black said. "I am a secret government agent of the United States, charged with protecting Earth from alien vision and other extraterrestrial threats."

"Oh, okay." Then I saw the robot with the holographic head. I pointed at him. "Who's he?"

"So you don't remember me?" he said in an amazed but pissed off voice.

I shook my head. "No."

"Why I had trouble with you and your…"

"Stockman," Bishop cut him off. Then to me, he said, "This here is Baxter Stockman, my assistant."

Baxter Stockman growled something under his breath. I don't think he likes Bishop…or me. I know who they are now, but where am I? Somewhere in the back in the mind knows where I am, and it's telling me that this is a bad place. That part of my mind is also telling me that these two me are evil and that they did something to me. But what?

Agent Bishop and Baxter Stockman were arguing over something. I think it had to do with either Stockman being pissed that Bishop cut him off or that he was pissed because I couldn't remember him. One of those reasons.

I wanted to know where I was, and where to get some clothes. I'm naked and freezing, and this old blanket isn't good enough. My stomach rumbled. I need some food, and for some reason, I'm in the mood for pizza. I need a nap, too. I'm so tired. And why do I feel this urge to go to New York City? First thing's first. I uh-hummed loudly. That got their attention. "Can someone please tell me where the heck am I?"

Bishop answered for me. He seemed to be the leader of the two. "You are in a secret laboratory in a military base known as Area 51 eighty-three miles northwest of Las Vegas, Nevada."

"Why am I here?"
"That reason is classified."

Something in that statement tells me that Bishop holds the key to my lost memories and my past but refuses to tell me. No matter. I'll figure it out somehow. I stomach growled louder, and I shivered. Bishop noticed this and said, "Hmmm, it seems you require food and perhaps rest. That is reasonable enough. After all, it did take a lot of calories and energy to undergo a transformation such as you have gone through." What is he talking about? Bishop didn't explain. "You also need a shower and some clothes." To his four his assistants standing nearby, he said, "You two take Michelangelo to the shower and hose him off. You two find Michelangelo some old clothes and prepare a high calorie meal for him."

Two of the scientists hoisted me up and roughly escorted me to a shower that looks like its main purpose is washing off dangerous chemicals off someone. It wasn't that bad. Anything to get rid of this sticky fluid off me. All they gave me was some soap no shampoo. I managed to lather all over myself furiously to get rid of this liquid. Then I attempted to use it to wash my hair. It wasn't as affective as shampoo, but it worked.

When I finished rinsing off, a third man brought in a towel and a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, white socks, boxers, and sneakers. "Thanks," I said. He nodded and headed off to give me some privacy. I quickly dried myself off and got dressed. When I was done, a fourth man escorted me to the mess hall where there was a meal waiting for me. It was milk and some kind of mystery meat with a lot of fat on it. Even though it looks like it could come alive at any second, it tasted pretty good although I rather have pizza. At least the milk was normal.

Even though I was happy to eat something, I wished I wasn't at the mess hall because everyone kept staring at me like I shouldn't be here or something. They were also whispering something to each other. I'm sure it was about me. I guess from their point of view, it's understandable. I mean, isn't it unusual for a regular, casually dressed teenager to eat among military personnel and scientists all of whom are adults? Yeah, I can't blame them, but I wish they stop looking a t me like that. It makes me feel way too uncomfortable.

When I was done, two scientists entered the mess hall and escorted me to a locked door. One of them took out a key and unlocked it. Inside were a small bed and a table with a lamp. The floors and walls were made of concrete and painted white. I noticed another door on the right side of the room. One of the men noticed my confusion and said, "That's the bathroom."

"Oh, thanks."

"This is where you will be staying," said the same man.

I entered the room, but they stayed out. The other man said, "Under Bishop's orders, we have to lock you in here. You know just in case you escape." That guy closed the door, and I heard the lock turn.

The way he said that almost made me pee in my pants. It was so sinister like he was threatening me with death if I escaped without saying a word. I yawned. I was too tired to dwell on fear. I took off my sneakers and jeans and climbed into bed. The sheets were a little rough, but that was alright. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was fast asleep.

That night I dreamed about an anthropomorphic turtle that looked to be four-years-old with an orange bandana covering his whole head. He was lost in the sewers and crying for his family.