This was pitched as a short story to the team a while back, which we all quickly saw potential in. So we decided to publish this as both a short story and a prologue in the case that readers might like a full story. So as you read it, keep in consideration that while it's a bit lengthy for a prologue it's also here for you to decide if we should take this idea further.
This is a reminder that all original characters, plot devices and artwork is copyrighted. We do not condone the illegal redistributing and recycling of our content. The unauthorised use of our work will be dealt with consequence. So please be respectful of the time and effort that all authors and artists put into their writing and artworks.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle's is credited to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird and Nickelodeon as of 2009. We do not own the rights to this franchise, only all original content.
Remember: If you're interested in this becoming a full story please let us know!
29th of September, 1987.
The owner smiled and waved as a little girl clutching a rabbit seemingly twice her size raced from the store, shaking the sleepy pet in every direction. Her parents wave back and dash after the girl whilst shouting for her to stop. As the door closes, the owner slumps over the register and stretches out his body.
It's been a tiring month for Paw Prints Pet House since summer break. Customers had been in and out of the store constantly, especially since the school holidays had started back up. Most stop by to browse and pet the puppies, some stop by for the occasional toy or treat. Days were flying by fast for the exhausted owner and although he's happy, so very happy to have a lot of customers, it's been hard to catch a break.
Which made slow days like these feel even worse.
Worse?! Can you imagine, you think I'd be rotten lucky for a break but now I'm losing money.
Dogs and cats of various shapes and sizes chatter loudly and the owner couldn't help but want to rest his eyes for a while. A long, long while. Lazily he stores the first receipt of the day and checks the clock.
2:30pm.
"Well then, It'll be another long, boring day today."
He mumbles as he hears the bell above the front door jingle and a customer step through. Shocked, the owner tries to quickly right himself but his feet slide out from under him. Sprawling for the bench he struggles to get a good grip before the customer notices.
This bogus floor is gonna kill me one day!
Gripping the bench he uses it to throw his weight forward and stumble over to the quietly browsing man by the doorway. Expertly, if he does say so himself, sliding into the customer's sight. He takes a moment to observe him while he straightens his polo, sizing up the best way to go about getting his business.
The man is tall and thin. Quiet, but in a calming manner, almost eerily calm. His eyes are what he searches first, but upon seeing only a hollowness instead of the usual demanding agenda the owner pauses. He's clean, but he screams messy. Not a hair out of place but this strange man standing before him looks as if his whole world had just shattered. Ironed clothes, polished shoes...sandals?
But the most striking of differences was the large burn mark over his left ear that appeared to be healing. In fact, the closer the owner looked he spotted more and more burns all over the man's body. Blinking, he shook his head and tried to ignore them in order to push on. He was going to get this man to walk out of his store today with an animal whether he knew what to do with it or not. Readying himself, he strutted forwards.
Remember, the customer is always right except on public holidays.
Oddly the man turned to face him just as he was preparing to clap his shoulder, eyes open and arms raised in defence. The owner froze in surprise, carefully watching as the man's face dimmed and his body relaxed. He swore he felt shame in the man's demeanour, but then again, he couldn't tell anything about him. The owner cleared his throat and puffed out his chest willing all of his confidence into his voice.
"Good morning and welcome to Paw Prints Pet House, may I interest you in our 'Summer Steal'?"
He outstretched his hand and waited as the taller man gently shook it, not meeting his eyes but with enough confidence he didn't have to. The owner watched the strange man's posture change as he registered his greeting, blinking and shuffling back.
"In the middle of fall?" He questioned, taking in the colourful hand drawn poster above the register.
Immediately the owner noticed the thick Japanese accent. Though not uncommon in New York it was still enough of a difference for him to notice. He nodded and slapped on his brightest smile.
"It's been very good for business, sir. One goldfish with two weeks supplied stock and a guaranteed replacement."
"Why would anyone need a replacement goldfish?"
The owner stopped, dropping the smile. Sighing softly he ran a hand down his face and thought back to the argument he'd had over the phone with his supplier, mostly about how much he wanted to simultaneously bang his head against every object in the room and then shove the phone so far up the suppliers a…
"Sir?"
"Honestly, you tell me 'cause I'd like to know as well." The owner huffed.
The taller man started to scan the owner's tired face with his eyes, reading his appearance. He sucked in his breath as the man harmlessly looked him over, shivering as if a cold breeze had suddenly whipped through the store.
This is fine, I mean, I was doing the same earlier. So why does it feel so weird?
The man blinked twice and paused, then returned to browsing the shelving as if he hadn't been looking over the man before him at all. The owner rubbed his hands together and tried to subtly turn away from the man, feeling as if he'd just been standing naked before his knowing gaze.
"So are you looking for anything in particular?"
The owner tried to redirect the man's attention back to their conversation. However, the man was staring at a dog food package with a picture of a little girl and a woman holding a tiny puppy. They were smiling brightly, arms held tightly around each other and the hyperactive dog.
The man was transfixed.
"Hello? ...Sir?"
He blinked. "Hmm? Oh, no, nothing like that. I am merely browsing." He still stared at the dog food, but his face had softened some. A few seconds went by in silence before the owner tried again.
"...But you're actually gonna buy something, yeah?"
He stood waiting patiently for the man to stop staring at the picture so they could get back to business, but the man only briefly twitched a brow and hummed.
"Perhaps."
The owner fidgeted. He wasn't sure if this man was homeless, maybe on the run? ...A pedo? Regardless, he was getting tired of his behaviour and it was starting to go from creepy to pathetic by the second.
"Look dude, you seem kinda out of it and I don't really have time to deal with that, I don't want no mall-maggot in my store. So are you buying something or are you gonna book it?"
The taller man bristled and turned to stare the owner dead in the eye, relaxed but poised just in case. He was always ready for a fight now, it seemed, even in a pet store. He drew in a deep breath and relaxed.
"It's been a long day for me- It's been many long days. Do you have anything I can spend time with? I fear that I've… lost too much to be by myself."
A shadow passed over them and the owner imagined a small rain cloud hovering over his head.
He stood there, bewildered.
"Bro, what the- I mean, yeah we've got pets that'll burn out anyone. Come on."
He hastily turned the corner and started to lead the man over to the puppies when he came to a realisation. But instead of stopping, he awkwardly turned and started to speed walk in the other direction.
"Actually, you want to waste time, right? Well, turtles are pretty slow? I don't know if they'd be much fun to do, well, anything with really but-"
"They are perfect."
The man was lost in thought as the owner stopped next to a clear tank resting on top of a fold out table. It was fortunate that the terrarium had no lid as the walls were covered in grime. Inside, four baby painted turtles wandered around their home, munching on crickets and sun basking.
"Well we've only got a few here, I don't really remember how many. Three, four? Honestly man, no offence, but turtles don't really sell well with families. It's probably 'cause of the salmonella."
Immediately after he said it, the taller man leaned back from where he was admiring the baby terrapins. The owner watched and cursed himself for mentioning it.
Honestly, this is the second time I've brought that up! No wonder these things don't sell.
"I... no longer have a family."
The owner's head reeled up so fast the taller man wasn't even aware the owner had almost suffered whiplash and was now staring incredulously, opened mouthed and wide eyed.
There was a fond look in the man's gaze as he followed the lightest turtle's movement, briefly forgetting he had just mentioned his family's unjust demise. The owner was already perplexed thus far but now he was beyond shocked and curious of the man in front of him.
Did he just tell me he's in mourning, while in a pet store, to a random stranger and whilst staring at baby turtles?!
Actually, that explained a lot.
"You want them all then?"
The man briefly turned to see the owner struggling with this new information, stammering and still scratching his jaw, before turning back to the four turtles. He watched as a red painted turtle rammed into a purple painted one, which rolled onto its back and tried to kick the other away. A blue painted turtle was sun basking under the heat lamp, seemingly watching the other two brawl it out, eyes occasionally flickering to the lightest turtle. The lightest, an orange painted turtle, was sneaking after a cockroach trying and failing to munch down on it.
The man chuckled until his eyes noticed something in the corner of the tank.
"I thought you said there were four?"
A fifth turtle hides under a log, peering out at the others timidly. The man tried but he wasn't able to see which colour the turtle was, as it was huddled in the shadow beneath the log, tense and shaking. It looked frightened and exhausted and he felt himself sympathising with the young turtle. There was a familiar fear in its dark eyes that he knew well.
The owner rubbed his forehead as he briefly searched for the fifth turtle, grumbling internally when he found it hiding away from the others. For almost a whole year he'd tried to persuade someone to buy the hatchling but no one was interested in a weak and timid turtle.
It greatly confused the owner, as he had never known turtles to be so emotive. He wasn't sure if maybe it was rescued from an incident or traumatised in a demonic past life but since nobody wanted it, that meant there was something wrong with it and it was his problem to fix it.
"What? Oh god damn it, I keep forgetting about that thing."
The orange painted turtle wandered nearer to the frightened turtle and softly snapped in its direction. Immediately the smaller turtle retracted its limbs into its shell and froze so the orange painted turtle quickly lost interest and wandered away. The man was curious, why would this turtle be so scared?
"You forgot about the fifth turtle?" He distractedly asked, trying to find the tiny turtle now that it was hiding in its shell. The owner scratched his jaw again and looked away, his chest heavy whilst counting down the days since this turtle arrived in his head.
"What, it's easily forgettable, especially since no one wants such a tiny thing. I don't even know how it hasn't fallen over and died already," the owner whispered, holding his breath when he reached the end of his counting. He stared sadly at the turtle and eyed a box under the table.
It'll be alright, this is part of your job, toughen up.
Meanwhile the taller man breathed out through his nose in agitation and felt his heart go out to the scared animal. It didn't matter whether or not someone deserved it, all life was precious, even a simple turtle. Besides, this turtle has to be something special if it still lived this long.
But even he had to admit a timid turtle wasn't much of a companion. How could he look after an animal in desperate need of someone's help when he couldn't look after himself. Was he well enough for this turtle, a life who depended on him? He'd already let down the lives of others that depended on him, lives he thought he would have protected till the day he died. Unfortunately, only he survived that day and he vowed never again to let anyone else be hurt because of him.
Turtles he could look after, so long as he gave them a cockroach every now and then. Maybe some heat, fresh water and a clean tank. But a frightened child-
Animal. Frightened animal.
He would only let it down.
The man exhaled and felt tears begin to gather in his eyes, which he blinked away while trying to not be noticed by the owner.
How do I do good by you when the world does bad by me?
Nevertheless, he felt a warmth flood him as he watched the purple painted turtle settle down beside the blue painted one to rest. Despite their relaxed position they looked so energetic, so carefree and he felt it call to him. He looked over to the red painted turtle which seemed to glare at the others and he couldn't help but let out a quiet snort. Only family could act that annoyed with each other, like brothers-
He stilled, heart pounding as he made eye contact with the light blue eyes of the curious orange painted turtle.
Brothers...
"How much are they?" He asked, trying to mentally recall how much he had on him when he left his motel room this morning. The owner laughed and clapped his shoulder, gesturing to the label on the edge of the terrarium.
"For these guys, only $55 each."
The owner proudly grinned at the man and started his closing routine, listing off all the handling techniques and benefits of the pets. Just as the owner was explaining how to feed them the man realised he wouldn't be able to purchase all of them. His hand lingered on the wallet in his pocket as he looked over all the turtles, watching how they interacted.
They're family, those boys. So while they still have theirs I will not be the force that separates them. What kind of person would that make me if I split them up, to hurt a family just as mine was hurt? Even if I won't be able to eat tonight, I will gladly take them all. Except…
He watched the red painted turtle nudge the timid one who was still hiding in its shell. None of the turtles seemed to be friendly with it, and he couldn't afford them all.
Do I buy these four, knowing I will leave this one alone? Who is that fair on, me or the turtle? The turtle has the pet store, the owner and a home. I have nothing. Does that make this right?
With guilt itching at him, he came to his conclusion and turned to the owner.
"I will take these four."
He spoke with confidence, although he felt the side of his face burn. He knew the turtle wasn't looking at him but his heart was weak- No, it was strong. Oftentimes there's just nothing you can do, you can't help everybody. It was as his father used to say.
"Yes, you should always do your best to be kind but sometimes the most important person to help is yourself."
He definitely learnt it the hard way and in his case, he needed it badly.
The owner wasn't having it though, desperation clawing at him. He'd tried for ages to sell this turtle and by damned was he going to let another person turn it down. He turned to the man and tried everything under the sun to get him to reconsider.
"Please man, do you want to take that one too?"
The cardboard box seemed to glare at him as the owner pleaded with him.
"I gotta do something with it, otherwise it'll be too late for it."
The man didn't meet his eyes and pulled out his wallet, beginning to walk to the register. When he noticed that the owner hadn't followed him back he cautiously looked at him.
"I'm sorry, when I arrived in America I did not have much. I can only afford four at most."
The owner ran a hand through his hair and slumped over.
He lost.
Sparing a glance at the turtles, he nodded and took over directing the man back to the register. As they walked away, both men faced straight, too disappointed to look back.
"That's alright man, I'll just have to figure out what to do with the fifth one."
The owner ringed him up and packed the four turtles into a transportable terrarium; a plastic bowl with a little palm tree and some water. He also handed him a pamphlet on 'How to care for your hatchling' and a coupon for a free box of cockroaches with a $20 purchase.
The man thanked the owner for his help and left, holding the terrarium close to his chest as he smiled down at his new family. The familiar sensation of hope stirring in him that he'd dearly missed.
"Thanks for your business and have a nice day."
He called after him with a wave as the door closed behind the man and the bell jingled.
leaning over the counter and popping his back he groaned and fiddled with a pen, letting the clock tick down a few more seconds as he procrastinated.
Eventually, he had to haul himself up and walk over to the now nearly empty terrarium and force himself to look down at the smaller turtle's hidden shell.
"Well then, what do I do with you, little miss?"
With a heavy heart he leans under the terrarium and picks up a small cardboard box that'd been slightly teared at the corners, probably from opening it. Carefully, he steps back from under the table and reaches into the tank.
"I don't mean to do this, but you've been here too long. Nobody wants you and I've got to keep the pups fed. I just ain't got the money to take care of you and you'll die soon if nobody comes to fetch you. But I suppose you're gonna die anyway now."
He picks up the tiny turtle by its shell and puts it into the cardboard box, closing the flaps. As he does so the turtle remains dull and timid. If the turtle could cough, the owner would've assumed it'd be hacking up a storm in it's chest.
"Really though, maybe I'll be doing you a favour. Who knows, somebody might find you and take you somewhere nice!
Holding the box but not moving, he takes a moment to breathe. The owner knows well enough that the second he starts moving again the tiny turtle is doomed. Tapping the box with his index finger he looks from the cardboard box to the empty terrarium.
"Who am I kidding, that's a fool's dream. Guilt's taking me, but you've got to be strong in this job."
Resigned, he heaves up the box into his arms and starts the hard journey to the back of the store. Opening up the back door with his foot he gently drops the cardboard box behind a trash can. The thud rattles the small turtle inside and the owner finds his eyes meeting with the turtles through the box's holes. His chest continues to ache.
"Well this is goodbye. You were always a small thing, probably wouldn't have lasted long anyway. I can't take you anywhere else, not anywhere which cares for turtles in the big city."
The owner looks away and clears his throat, lingering in the doorway.
"Don't hate me, I'm just doing my job."
He turns and with a final glance down closes the door. The cold alley breeze kicks up a newspaper which floats into the box and blocks off all light for the baby turtle. Inside the dark box, the trapped terrapin does all it can to find warmth by huddling in the corner to try and feel the heat of the sun.
It's cold, it's dark and it's lonely.
The turtle closes her eyes.
"… Go no… this place…"
"You are not allowed…"
"...been seen in…
"So this… not a place."
"… will… left by you."
Muffled voices and noises carry through the box every few seconds followed by the occasional grunt and shouts of fighting. Strange gunfire and a mysterious metallic grinding reverberates around the alley as a masculine voice yells and the ground seems to shake, rattling the cardboard box.
A powerful force barrels into the trash cans and flings them in every direction. The turtle is flipped on its shell as the cardboard box is sent flying, landing on its side with the flaps open. Harsh sunlight peaks into the box revealing a battle going on in the alley.
The man from the pet store yelps as he struggles to push back two identically suited men bathed in a soft pink glow. Their voices are delayed and monotone, speaking broken English as they fight. He guards the terrarium the best he can whilst defending himself.
Holding the painted turtles close to his side with one arm and blocking with the other he attacks with precision, dodging both limb and bullet. The suited men rapidly fire glowing bullets that bounce off the walls of the alley. During the scuffle, they accidentally scare a large rat digging through an old pizza box. It runs out into the fight and frantically weaves through their legs.
The rat shrieks as the man accidentally steps on its tail. He pauses in his punch to look down as the rat runs over his foot and scampers away. Determined, he regains his stance and high kicks one of them in the face. Whirling around as another two similarly looking men join them, he skillfully dodges all of their attacks.
A few more minutes of fighting pass until the man notices one of the suited men holding a glass canister filled with a brightly green glowing goop. It sloshes as they move and he tries to forget its presence as he's forced to jump over another bullet but he's quickly outnumbered. In a desperate attempt to escape, he throws a punch that knocks the canister to the ground.
The glass shatters and the goop spills all over the alley, splashing onto the man and the four baby turtles. He cries out in agony as his body begins to swell, his clothes shredding as dark brown hair grows from his skin. Below him, the four baby turtles begin to grow in size as their shells enlarge and their feet extend until all four are able to push themselves up to stand on two feet.
The man screams as his body convulses, arms wrapped tightly around himself. A pink tail swings from the man's hips and knocks over one of the turtles. It lies sprawled on his back crying while the other three newly mutated turtles stumble around with their fingers outstretched, their human looking faces giggling in glee.
The pain was overwhelming, but as sirens begin to blare from a few blocks away he swoops down and gathers all the turtles into his aching arms. The suited men lie still on the ground as the man unconsciously lifts up a manhole cover with his tail and escapes into the sewer, not looking back as he replaces the cover and sprints away.
From behind the cardboard box a muffled cry followed by the crashing of metal trash cans wakes the suited men. In sync, they all begin to robotically rise from the concrete, heads swivelling to stare at where the noise came from. One of them steps forward and raises an arm to point at the cardboard box.
"There was a sound known as a cry and a sound known as a bang that Kraang heard from behind the object known as the cardboard box. Kraang suggests Kraang should investigate the object known as the cardboard box to find what made the sound known as a cry and the sound known as a bang."
The suited men all look to each other and wait. When none of them move, the man with his arm raised turns back to the others and crosses his arms.
"Why is Kraang not investigating the object known as the cardboard box for the sound known as a cry and a sound known as a bang, as Kraang has requested?"
The other suited men all look at each other for a few seconds before turning back to the first man. Without thinking one of them steps forward and answers, his face expressionless but seemingly panicked.
"Kraang does not want to. Kraang is unknowledgeable of the inhabitants from the planet known as Earth."
The suited man, while also not changing facial expression, seems to be taken aback. He steps towards the identical man and teasingly replies with an equally monotone voice.
"Kraang is scared."
All the spectating suited men immediately retreat into the shadows of the alley, nervously standing in a line and lowering their guns. As they watch the argument unfold their heads swivel in unison from one man to the other. The strange pink glow moves with their heads and casts a spotlight on the speaker.
"Kraang is not scared. Kraang is wary."
"Kraang is scared. Kraang performed the same action back on Utrom when Kraang was asked to investigate the Utrom hub. Kraang did not perform the action to investigate the Utrom hub. Instead Kraang performed the action known as… running away."
One of the heads of the suited men start to spark as they continue to turn from left to right.
"Kraang did not perform the action known as running away."
"Kraang did perform the action known as running away. Kraang also was scolded for not performing the action. It was known as funny."
"Kraang was not amused as the action was not known as funny."
"Kraang recommends Kraang agrees that Kraang is scared."
"Kraang is not scared."
"Kraang is scared."
"Kraang is not scared."
"Kraang is scared."
"...Well Kraang's creator known as the mother is scared of the Kraang they created by performing the action known as birth as Kraang's appearance is the adjective known as ugly in a larger amount than Kraang's mother!"
None of the other men attempt to step forward as a normally awkward silence occurs, the sparking kraang now twitching silently. Another metallic bang from the cardboard box distracts them as it topples over and a trash can lid rolls out from behind the box to stop at their feet.
Where the box used to be was another baby mutant turtle.
It was still timid, smaller than the other baby turtles and as equally human looking. The child stumbled forwards as it took a few steps before it slipped backwards onto its shell. But instead of hiding away, the turtle giggled and clapped her hands.
She had a few similarities to the other turtles as well as her own unique features. The same misty blue eyes as the curious one, faint speckles on her skin as the tallest one, a rounder head as the angry one and a similar skin colour as the braver one.
"Kraang?"
"Affirmative Kraang?"
The suited man walks over to the baby turtle and picks it up from the ground, arms outstretched in front of him as if it would damage him. Holding it away from his body, he returns to the others who all step forwards to observe the child. They watch with blank faces as she swings her legs in the air and smiles.
"Alert Kraang Prime, we have what is known as… a problem."