A/N: It occurred to me that there must be many off screen mutants in TMNT2012, those whose stories will never be told. I wanted to write something about some of them, and what their lives and cultures might be like. Therefore, there are no Turtles or Turtle friends in this story (yet).

OoOoOo

The summer of their 12th year was a particularly hot one. The temperature rose in small increments each day, no stop seeming to be in sight, as the day for their birthday, the day their new life began together, approached.

The year had been a busy one for Phoebe. Crevan and his friends came over on a regular basis, especially when the weather began to get hot. The children would piddle in the workshop below until it became too hot to work and then come up and lounge in the living room watching TV. She would put them to work in the early mornings, the only time that they could garden with any kind of comfortablity, weeding and digging and splitting and cutting. The juniper bush had sections of it die off from the heat, and Phoebe worked especially hard to keep it alive.

She meditated a lot that summer. Meditating was still, it got her mind off of the awful heat, and it was a great way to trick the kids into thinking she was occupied so she could eavesdrop on them.

She loved to eavesdrop on them! Sometimes she would even sneak to the middle of the stairs and listen as they talked in the workshop. They talked about what they were working on, what they liked and didn't like, the latest music, or movie, or movie star. They spoke like little grown ups, and Phoebe had to remind herself more than once that grown ups is what they were becoming.

One afternoon her brood and their friends gathered around the TV to watch the VHS tape of Harry Potter and Sorcerer's Stone they'd found. ("Look, Mama!" Medusa had said, "It's brand new, still in the packaging with the price tag on and everything!") Her kids had waited until their friends arrived to watch it together. They were riveted to the screen, but Phoebe walked away after only 15 minutes. The book was better, she thought, and she hadn't thought the book was all that great. Rowling stole too much from Tolkien. Now, when they found the VHS of Fellowship of the Ring...

She went to her little yoga floor at the opposite end of the house, sounds of little wizards echoing through the rafters, and began to stretch. She noticed that her yoga practice was much longer these days, the stretching eased her muscles which seemed to ache a little bit more after a vigorous game of Catch The Monkey than they used to. She sat down in the lotus position, placed her hands on her knees, and began to breathe. The sounds of the outside world began to fade away, and she was alone with just herself.

Her voice echoed in her head, as it always did in this stage of her meditations. Today the words were lazy, almost slurred from the heat of the day. Cut some juniper, the unbidden thought told her. She hadn't cut any recently for fear of stressing the plant. She would cut some when she was done.

Consider the floor, said the unbidden thought.

Consider the floor? What a silly thing to think. For the first time ever, after decades of hearing this voice of hers tell her to do things, she answered it. "What does that mean?"

Consider the floor, the unbidden thought said again.

"It's just a floor," Phoebe answered in her head. "We made it ourselves. We gathered the wood from a construction site. We sanded it smooth so we wouldn't get splinters when we did our floor exercises. We rubbed it with the only mineral oil could find until it shone like a mirror, and smelled the entire floor with baby smell."

Consider the floor, the unbidden thought said once more.

Phoebe brought a picture of the floor up in her mind. It materialized slowly in front of her inner vision, as did her knees below her. From her seat, she saw lines emanating from her into all directions. They looked red, and then they were blue, and then gold, and then white. Looking at them all around, her eyes fell on one, and the unbidden thought said, That one.

She touched it with a finger, and it felt very much like a soft fishing line. She followed it with her eyes, and it seemed to twist and turn in her vision, until it disappeared through the outer wall of the warehouse.

Follow it, the unbidden thought said.

"But it goes out the wall," Phoebe protested. "I can't follow it past there."

Follow it.

She she stood up, and began to walk along side of the line. It began to glow white, and stayed that color, so bright that everything around her faded away to darkness, so there was only she and line. She would touch it occasionally, and it almost made a sound, like a piece of a tune she didn't recognize. The smell around her changed into the warm smell of nasty public toilet, so that she looked up, to find herself in dark tunnel.

The light from the line, which she held in her hand, faded, and she could see she was in a sewage tube. She could hear the drip, drip, drip, of distant water, and the warm smell came at her in waves as air moved through the tunnel. She walked down it, noting that her feet made no sound when she touched the wet cement. In the distance, she heard a deep voice, accented. What was the accent? The words were spoken in a staccato, but she couldn't make them out. They carried on the breezes that came down the tunnel, as if carried by the smell.

"Mama," she opened her eyes, to see Ailurosa looking at her with a concerned expression.

The abrupt return to reality made her head spin, so she had to blink several times to steady her head. The smell of the sewage disappeared, the coolness of underground was replaced immediately by the 90 degree heat of New York City on this summer day. The deep voice was gone.

"Mama," Ailurosa put her hand on Phoebe's shoulder, "are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Kitty Cat," she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. "I was just startled that's all. Go and watch your movie."

The children behind her looked concerned, Crevan and his friends hanging in the back. "The movie's over, Mama," Arcos said, putting his hand Ailurosa's back. "You've been meditating for hours."

OoOoOo

It is a well known fact that crime skyrockets when the heat maintains 90 degrees for over a week. That statistic was apparently no different for the mutants who resided in NYC, for Phoebe had more patients to deal with, and a slew of nastier injuries, than the past three years combined.

What made her most angry, though, was they were doing it to themselves.

At least if The Grey Cats were fighting some other gang, she could feel sorry for their casualties and injuries. Infighting rankled her.

"This is a waste of my time," she muttered.

"Then leave him," Klashtooth said. "He doesn't mean anything."

Just as Chategris seemed to go nowhere without accompaniment, usually Razz or Klashtooth, so Phoebe was always in attendance by one of the three of them when she was at the cargo bay. She wasn't entirely sure, even after almost three years, why that was, but she chose to think it was for her safety. Her safety from what, she hadn't decided on yet.

"I can't just leave him," she huffed. Her own patience was wearing thin, she'd been at this for hours. "Can't you all get hurt by someone else instead yourselves?"

"Do you have someone in mind?" Klashtooth asked, his own voice on edge.

Phoebe, wearing shorts and a tank top, wiped sweat from her eyes with her shoulder. "Who do you normally fight?"

Klashtooth chuckled. "Whoever stands in our way."

Phoebe finished up with her patient, and told him to rest and stop being stupid. The Grey Cats were very good at deflecting her questions, even though she'd been able to glean a great deal of information from them, they stopped short on letting her know too much about the outside world. She knew there were other mutants out there, how did they live? Were they in gangs like this one? Did they live all alone? Did they have someone to take care of them? Often times, when she felt this way, she would think of the other mutants in the cells with her all those years ago, and wonder what happened to them all. Did they wonder what happened to her and the kids?

Chategris came over, and motioned with his head that Klashtooth was relieved of his babysitting. He was shirtless, the hair on his rather impressive chest damp from sweat. He held out his hand to help Phoebe up. She took his paw, tired from the heat and the tedious work of people patching. He looked her up and down appreciatively, and she was so hot she didn't even care. "You look overheated," he said slowly.

"It's hard not to be overheated in here," she snapped. "It must be 110 degrees with all these people. Those fans don't cut it. You need to steal an air conditioner or two."

Chategris laughed tiredly. "You, who will not take a gift taken from someone else, tells me to steal an air conditioner."

"The heat makes people crazy," she sighed.

"Come," still holding her hand, he lead her to the side of the bay, "I have already stolen an air conditioner."

Phoebe was too hot and too tired to argue. She let him lead her to a small room, which may have once been an office. Opening the door, two mutants, both dogs, were in a compromising position. Phoebe turned around quickly, but Chategris did not let of her hand.

"Sortez!" Get out! he growled.

The two of them scampered out of the chair, grabbing clothes, and running by Phoebe without look at her.

Chategris lead her in the cool room, and closed the door. The room was not cold, but the coolness of the loud air conditioner tingled the tips of her ears and her toes where they peeked out of her sandals. "Ahhh," she closed her eyes and put her head back.

"You see," he said, "I am not all bad."

Phoebe sank into a chair by the door, leaving the previously occupied one for Chategris. "I never said you were all bad," she replied.

"You do not agree with my business dealings," he said.

"Because they aren't business dealings," she told him. "Stealing, extortion, assault, battery, and attempted murder are not business dealings."

"You forgot successful murders," he added.

She opened her eyes and glared at him.

His pupils were round with the lack of light, he blinked his hazel eyes slowly. "You do not understand the nature of my business," he said in French.

"I understand it fine," she said. "I do not agree with it."

"There is a place in Brooklyn," he said, leaning over his long body to the small fridge at the side of the room and opening it up. "Flatbrush, you know this place?"

Phoebe nodded, taking the Coke he offered her, "The big Haitian neighborhood."

"Oui," he opened a Budweiser, and took a swig. "I have ties to this place," he nodded.

She nodded back, "Is your family there?"

"I have ties to this place," he said again. "There is a group of people there. They make it difficult sometimes ." He took another drink of his beer. "I have ties to this place, and if I am compensated for helping to make it less difficult, where is the crime in that?" He sounded genuine, as if he was honestly asking the question.

"Because what you do to make it less difficult is illegal," she was quite sure it was, even if he hadn't gone into detail. "Why can't the police handle it?"

Chategris laughed, a little less tiredly than earlier. "The police?" He leaned forward, "The police do nothing, ma Medicienne. The police are useless. We," he clapped his bare chest, "we are not useless."

She didn't say anything, but she looked at him dubiously.

"Do you know what would happen to you if you were out there, on your own, without your children?"

She blushed.

"Do you know how much, even as little children, they protect you because they are monsters?"

"They are not monsters," her ire began to rise again.

"Non, that is where you are mistaken, ma Medicienne. We are all monsters. You," he pointed at her, "are the mother of monsters. It is because of those monsters, us, that you are safe."

Phoebe shook her head, "No," she said vehemently, "no, we don't have to be monsters." She stood up, "Being a monster is a choice, not what you look like."

"You tell that to the monsters out there, ma cherie," he stood up also, towering over her. "Tell that to my people, and see what they do to you." He leaned down, his face close to hers, "Like it or not, we are not humans, ma petite Medicienne. We are freaks, abominations, monsters. Do not forget that."

OoOoOo

The sun began to set, the temperature getting a few degrees cooler. Phoebe asked for her children to be brought to her. When they came to her, Chategris smiled broadly, "Stay and dance with us, tonight."

"Oh, a dance!" Crevan punched the air.

A dance? They were having a dance in the cargo bay?

"Oh, Mama, please!?"

"But it's so hot," Phoebe almost whined. "And you want to dance?"

"What better way to forget the heat," Chategris bent down closer to her, his voice in her ear, "than to dance it off?" She could hear him purring, "I hear you like to dance."

"And where did you hear that?" she stepped away from him.

He looked at Crevan, and winked.

Crevan avoided her gaze when she looked at him.

"Please, Mama, please!?"

Later on, when she thought of this day, she thought the heat must have gone to her head, or perhaps she was just tired, or lonely for something other than the little world she had inhabited for so long. Her head was blank of any reason to say no. "Alright," she said.

The room erupted around her. Chategris picked her up by the waist, and spun her around, and then the music was on, bodies were moving with the beat, and she joined them. She danced as the sun went down and the world went dark. The music enveloped the bay, the smell of animal became stronger as the heat of the space refused to go down with the sun. Bodies moved in ways that no human being could move, and in the back of her mind, Phoebe came to the realization that her own body, through years of honing with contortion, was no match in gracefulness or movement to any of these creatures that danced around her. The movement of the least graceful of these was more feral than one she could ever hope to produce, no matter how much or how well she danced. When she felt body heat too close to her, she would spin away, to enjoy the dancing on her own. Chategris ended up by her more often than not, and more than once she slipped out of his grasp with a laugh, feeling powerful and in control.

She danced with these mutants, part of her life whether she liked it or not, until the sun came up.

OoOoOo

The heat of that summer seemed to affect Aries the worst. At least, Phoebe thought it was the heat. He was constantly at odds with his siblings, especially volatile Ailurosa, and when he was not, he was in the workshop working on something. He was amicable when Crevan and his friends were around, even if he and Ailurosa still dueled it out. Crevan was savvy enough to stay out of it, and only subtly take Ailurosa's side.

A meditation session was interrupted by a loud, high pitched hiss, followed by several loud bumps. Opening her eyes, Phoebe saw Aries running at Ailurosa, who had jumped on the kitchen counter. She jumped just before he reached her, easily flying over him as he rammed the counter top. Phoebe leaped up, running across the warehouse floor. As Aries made another run toward his sister, Phoebe managed to reach her, she grabbed Ailurosa's ear, giving it a hard pull. Aries' head was still down, his horns in front of him, curling around his head. With her free hand, she caught his ear also. Twisting it, he came to a quick halt with a yelp.

"What is this?" Phoebe asked. "I have to tweak your ears like little children?" It had been years since she had to employ this form of disciple. "What is the matter?"

"She started it!" Aries pointed at Ailurosa, wincing from Phoebe's pressure on his ear.

"I didn't," Ailurosa twisted in an attempt to get out of Phoebe's grip. She pulled harder on her little triangle of an ear. "He is the one who tried to ram me."

"Stop!" Phoebe thundered, also in a way she hadn't done in years. Both of them froze in position. She let go of their ears, and they each stood up, glaring. "What is going on?"

"She won't help to clean up," Aries said. "She always goes off with Crevan, and leaves the mess for us. I'm tired of it."

"You're the one who makes all the mess," Ailurosa wailed.

"No, I'm not, you help. And you're the only one who doesn't help to clean up!" Aries voice cracked when he spoke.

Ailurosa hissed.

"Stop!" Phoebe yelled again. "To your rooms!"

Ailurosa was gone in a heartbeat, and Aries stomped out and slammed his door.

Phoebe looked at Arcos and Medusa, "What was that about?"

Arcos shrugged. "They started arguing about cleaning up..." He motioned to Medusa, who had already begun slithering to the window. "We'll be outside."

Phoebe made herself a cup of tea, the expired aspartame giving it a slightly bitter flavor. She had to stir it quite a bit to get the expired powdered creamer to fully disperse. She drank it slowly, taking deep breaths to calm down. She had no doubt that Ailurosa had somewhat provoked Aries, she was good at that, whoever ramming things in the house was not acceptable.

After she finished the tea, she went to Aries door, and knocked on it slightly. Then, she opened it, to find him splayed on his bed, face is his pillow.

"Go away," he said.

"No," she said firmly. He had never told her to go away before.

He didn't say anything, so she went to his bed and sat down on it. She admired the craftsmenship of the frame. He had begun to carve into the bedposts and headboard, she couldn't tell what what they would be, but he could see what was in the wood, and was bringing it out. She put her hand on his back, and began to rub it. "Oh, Lamb's Ear..." she crooned.

"Don't call me Lamb's Ear," he said into the pillow.

"Aries," she said, in the same crooning way. "What is the matter? Surely Ailurosa not cleaning up didn't make you that angry."

Her flipped around with such speed and ferocity, that it frightened her, and she jumped slightly. His jaw was thrust forward in anger, his eyes animalistic. "What would you understand?" he huffed.

She was quiet a moment. "Because I've been here the whole time?" she asked it gently. "But I can't read your mind, Aries. You have to tell me what's the matter, or I can't help you."

He sat up and huffed again. "I don't know," he sounded defeated. "She just makes me so...angry. They all make me so angry. Everything makes me angry!" He threw his hands in the air barely missing her.

"What about everything makes you angry?" Phoebe felt at a loss.

"I don't know," he huffed again. "If I knew, I'd fix it."

Phoebe wracked her brain. She had no antidote for being angry without knowing the cause of the anger, so she grasped at the only thing she could find. "If them not cleaning up after themselves is a problem, would you like to have your own workshop?"

"That's just mine?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "And no one can go in except you."

"Even you?"

Phoebe considered for a moment. "No, I get to come in."

Aries considered for a moment. This surprised her, he was not, by nature, the considering type. "OK," his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "OK."

She stroked his head in between his horn and his ear. He looked so pathetic. "You could build a car." Did she really say that?

"A car?" His voice was incredulous. "How are we going to get the stuff to build a car?"

"I bet we could find most of we need around here, with all the abandoned vehicles just between us and the cargo bay. And there are mechanic shops all over New York that do not dispose of their parts in the proper manner. Their dumpsters are probably a gold mine."

"When would we drive it, Mama?" He looked disappointed. "Where would we drive it?"

"You could drive it all along the warehouse district. I doubt if some person who is here after dark tells the police that a giant ram boy is driving a vehicle that they'll get much of a consideration." When Aries finally smiled, she went on, "You can drive at night, especially in the smaller places. They don't have such a strong police presence." She opened her arms, and he fell into them, putting his head to her chest like he did when he was little.

"The police aren't good people, are they?" he asked.

"They do the best they can with what they have," she said.

"Then why do you always tell us to never let them see us?"

She had explained this already, she was positive she had, but she did it again anyway. "Because they do not understand. Aries nodded into her breast. "That's because people don't think you're real. They think you are part of a fairy tale. If they saw you, if they saw us, they wouldn't understand. And when people do not understand something, they are afraid of it. When they are afraid of it, they try to get rid of it to make themselves feel safe again."

"Is that what The Grey Cats do?

"Not exactly," she answered. "But I would strongly guess that people do it to them, and this is how they retaliate."

Aries sat up, looking at her he said, "They wouldn't be afraid of you. They wouldn't try to get rid of you. You're like them."

She reached up and put her hand on his cheek. "Oh, Aries," she crooned. "I wish it worked that way."