Yay! A chapter 2! Okay, this is where my story actually begins to unfold. Like I said...I. Don't. Own. Anything. (Except Brandy and the...well...read and find out in the future chapters!) In fact, I'm not even sure why I bother with a disclaimer when EVERYONE knows I'd be hunted down and killed by copyright law enforcers if I even muttered the tempting words "I own the turtles." (But secretly Donny is mine and no one can have him!) Damn...here they come...

"MICHELANGELO!"

The voice rang through the depths of the New York sewer system, violently shaking the walls in indirect accusation. Like the walls and sewage water, Mikey trembled at the sound of Donatello's enraged and thoroughly stunned voice.

'It never happened. Denial is the key. Breathing is the second key. Eye contact is the third. Fourth…'

Mikey groaned, barely audible, as he mentally went through the requirements for successful and effective lying strategies. He could never pull it off. Mikey figured he might as well accept the fact he was – and always would be – horrible and unconvincing at the art of lying.

"Might as well face the music," Mikey murmured, walking from his hurricane-visited bedroom and out to the living area. He could picture his grave, and the horrible sound of the death song being played on the trumpet. He cleared his throat to calm himself. "Y-yes, Donny?"

"Don't sound so innocent, Michelangelo." Donny's back was facing Mikey, and his voice was cold, hurt and stern. It was rare to see or hear Donny in this state, and when he was, everyone knew it meant something was undoubtedly wrong.

"Donny—"

"Don't try to explain just yet." Donny turned in his computer chair, facing Mikey with serious, demanding eyes. Mikey was immediately reminded of Raphael. "First, I want to say that I have done a lot for you as a brother and as a friend."

Mikey nodded.

"AND as a mechanic, doctor, electrician…"

Mikey looked down in shame, playing absentmindedly with one of the nunchakus attached to his belt.

"And this is how you repay me?" Donny pointed to his computer. Nothing seemed wrong with it at a first glance. However, Donny turned toward the computer and brought up one of his many files. The little folder icon was in plain view, and under it read the name: Donatello's Research. Donny clicked on the icon and waited as his computer loaded. A screen of white stared the two turtles in the face.

Mikey's hands fidgeted with more than just his weapons now. His arms and hands went from a crossed position to a thoughtful position to a to-be explanation position all in a matter of seconds, all sudden stops and all in many different orders.

"Do you see anything, Mikey?"

Mikey looked his brother in the eye, afraid to answer, and honestly, unable to. He wasn't sure if Donny sought an answer right then or if he was further making him feel the nakedness of shame. As a response, Mikey shook his head "no."

"Neither do I." Donny's voice went from the stern mother punishing her child to hurt, abandoned and distant. He sighed. "That research was all I had to keep updated on things that went on. News, people, events, weather…I had everything. I had studies going…the DNA structure of our mutation...the chemical components and the anatomy comparisons. I was even studying our origin, had journal entries of contemplations and personal thoughts, scientific theories and some of my own…all about how we came to be and what our purpose is. I had EVERYTHING in there. And look where it is."

Mikey's eyes were threatening to release the dam of tears that were building up, tears that represented the core of his grief and guilt. He felt horrible, and he wanted to explain himself, but fought the urge to allow Donny to sock more of his anger to him. He deserved it.

"It's gone. All of it…gone."

Mikey sniffed, shifting nervously from side to side like a child.

"Mikey…please…why did you DELETE it?" Now Donny's voice became desperate, demanding and angry. He slammed his hand flat on the computer table, awaiting Mikey's answer.

That is, if Mikey could remember it.

When Mikey had gathered his thoughts together and had recovered enough from the onslaught of brotherly guilt to function, he looked Donny in the eyes. His voice was rough, sounding as if it hadn't been used in years. "I was just going to play some games," Mikey began.

"But I had asked you not to go on my computer, Michelangelo!"

"I know." Mikey didn't defend himself. He just slowly and honestly told it like it was. "I went to a game site and played some sport games. Then all of these pop-up thingies kept on making me loose the games, so I clicked 'no' for most and hit random keys."

Donny had his arms crossed, looking intently at the floor, seeming to be listening and nodding his head. His lips were sealed tight, like he was thinking hard. Mikey dared to go on.

"I guess one of those pop-ups was a bad one, because eventually it showed this window going through all of your files. I hit some keys to make it stop, but when I did, it landed on your folder and deleted it."

Donny cringed at the sound of that. His eyes became heavy with disappointment, but he convinced himself not to blame Mikey for it. Despite the logic behind keeping his temper at a minimum, he couldn't help but feel the burning flames of neglect...why wouldn't anyone take him seriously? 'No means no means no...'

Mikey, being the foolish, youngest turtle of the four, made little sniffling sounds. He was such a big baby. Donny looked up, unfolding his arms and resting his hands on his kneecaps.

"I'm really sorry, Donny."

Donny sighed and shook his head. He knew he was incapable of staying angry, but very well knew it was what he had to do. Why couldn't he just stick by his word, be stern, and get things done for himself? No...he would always be the brother all the rest can count on...to fix TV's, radios, bikes, heaters, refrigerators...

"It's okay, Mikey. I just wish you understood. I hope you didn't destroy my backup files, but taking in your story, with my luck you probably did." Donny sighed again, turning his back on Mikey again and staring at his computer. "Go on, Mikey. Go eat pizza or do your katas or something."

"But Donny—"

"It's okay, Mikey. I'll find a way to get them back. I always do."

"Really? Phew...I'm glad you're not mad. If you were it would have scared me to death! Thanks, bro...oh, and I'll never EVER go on your computer again! Promise!"

'That's what everyone says,' Donny thought gloomily. 'Promises don't last when it comes to me...because I'll always forgive them in the end.'

Donny got up from his chair and crossed the living area into the kitchen. He was suddenly reminded of the project he had going with the coffee maker he had found at the junkyard. It still needed some crucial parts. Figuring that since it was a project he wanted done, not his brothers, he would willingly go out and find the necessary parts. He needed the fresh air.

"Guys, I'm going topside," Donny murmured as he passed the TV. Raph and Leo were playing the new N64 Donny had found and fixed up for them a few days ago.

"Dammit, Leo! Quit firing those things! I have no weapons yet!"

"I told you, Raph! I'm not giving you any mercy. If our roles were switched you'd be burning my ass, so I'm doing the same!"

"But you got the goddamn minigun last time!"

"You snooze you loose, bro!"

Donny figured they were playing one of the Turok games, so shrugged it off and put on his coat and fedora. He was glad that Raph was feeling better, nonetheless. Ever since he had returned from his anger walk the other night, he seemed to want to spend as much time with his brothers as possible. Raph had even taken an interest in some of Mikey's football cards. Of course Raph was still an insensitive jerk, but at least he was more normal than before. And, if his actions seemed abnormal to the other two turtles, they didn't say anything about it in fear of being targeted.

Donny trudged through the murky waters of the sewer tunnels, kicking and splashing monotonously. Hands dug deep into trench coat pockets, Donny thought hard about his status among his brothers.

His brothers were the most reckless turtles ever to live. (Well, the only, since there aren't that many mutant turtles in the world nowadays.) Everything they had broke somehow. Raph could fix anything concerning auto parts. Everything else, (mostly being electrical,) went to Donny. Coincidentally, most of the things broken were electrical. The TV had broken who knows how many times, the refrigerator, toaster, radio, and heater broke on occasion, and the air conditioner broke mainly during the summer. (And what a wonderful time to break, too.)

Basically, Donny was the other turtles' handyman. He was the nerd who would figured out everything for them. He was the smartest, he was the most talented with his hands...he just had too many qualities to him to add on to his kind, gentle nature.

Donny had reached the manhole, and he looked up the ladder as if it were an old friend. He regarded it simply as the ladder he used to return to his sanctuary. The junkyard was Donny's haven...his place to think. He grabbed hold of one of the handles and lifted himself up, climbing up at a decent pace. His ninja senses were alert, but hardly on duty during Donny's intense train of thought.

Peering through the opening, he lingered a while, making sure no one was going to come. No one really would, but as master Splinter instructed, Donny was cautious anyway. When not a single sign of life stirred, he lifted himself out of the manhole and started his way to the junkyard.

Up above, the moon shone down on him sympathetically. Her glow embraced Donny, droplets of light staining the filth of the yard that only proved the wasteful nature of Americans. Nature's tears were falling for him in the form of blissful moonbeams. Somehow, the moonlight made the junkyard appear to be a peaceful, natural tower of rocks and trees. Apart from night in the actual city, nights here seemed to bring Donny back to a more natural state.

Donny was grateful for the stars he could see that night. In the city, there were too many lights for him to get a good look at a star or two. Now, they winked at him in giddy girl-like fashions, groups of them smiling and seeming to kiss the black velvet of the midnight sky. The thought of reproduction occurred to him briefly, and though in the past he could easily shrug it aside, for it was a matter that did not apply to him, his body refused to do the same.

Donny sat on a crushed car, and thoughts that had never crossed his mind were searing their way into his brain. 'What will happen to us when we're gone?' he thought. 'We'll be...gone. Completely gone. There will be no proof of our existence left behind. We'll be wiped clean off the face of the Earth!'

At first, the idea of love didn't appeal to him, for there was nobody he could love. 'A human girl? That's a likely story.' Instead, Donny tried to think of ways that he could preserve some part of him and his brothers so they may save their existence when they died.

Donny shrugged the thought away again, thinking he had plenty of time to think about that, since he was healthy young turtle who would (hopefully) not die any time soon. "Now, to get those parts..." he murmured out loud, tugging enthusiastically at his hat and getting to work.

Sometime during his digging, Donny felt a breeze of disturbance in the peacefulness of the night. His head lifted, and his body automatically set itself into a crouched, prepared stance. He opened his mouth, allowing the second of his two means of turtle smelling to take in the aroma around him. Something seemed not right, something seemed to smell like...

Before Donny could put a name to a scent, he heard a grunt and felt himself pushed and thrown from his tower of trash, hitting the ground with a painful smack as well as a gather of weight landing on top of him. He cried out in response, as Splinter always taught him, so that the impact would not hit him so hard. When he recovered, ready to spring up and fight back, he realized he was staring into the eyes of a girl.

"Shh!!!" the girl hissed. She closed her hand on Donny's mouth, and he panicked when he realized that touching his face may scare her. He thrashed his head away from her hand.

"What the—" Donny began, but the girl hushed him once more, attempting to cover his mouth again, but Donny threw his head sideways and listened. Shuffling and cursing could be heard far off in the distance, as well as stranger sounds seeming to be in the form of motion. Donny's heart was pounding from the suddenness, but he began to relax while the girl was silent, stiff, and alert, and as he waited, actually began to feel a bit tired.

Before he could go any further than a doze, the girl jumped off him suddenly, startling him. He sprang up as well, his hand behind his back ready to grab his bo. Donny knew he could never hurt the girl if she were dangerous, but perhaps just disarm her...

"I can't believe those idiots," the girl muttered, dusting the dirt off of her faded overalls. Donny took this moment to observe her, figure out what it was he was truly looking at. She seemed normal enough as far as her clothing went. Under her overalls she sported a purple tank top that hugged her body tight enough to flaunt her form, as well as stopping above her belly button. Old, worn out black boots peered out from under the long, wide pant legs of her overalls, which her hands were now stuffed deep into the pockets of. Her hair was to her shoulders and layered, the top layer curled out and the bottom layer curled in. She wore a worn out brown leather Greek Fisherman's hat that tilted to the right of her face, which was a simple oval structure.

Now came the part that Donny found a bit odd, but couldn't be sure of. She was thin, and her skin seemed fair. However, her skin tone seemed to have an unnatural hue, almost purple. Donny dismissed that thought with the explanation that it was the moonlight. Also, her eyes — he had never seen such a shade — were a piercing arctic blue. The girl was small, but seemed close to his age. Her expression was unmoving; it was neither annoyed or pleased.

"Done?"

Donny jumped at the sound of her voice. He hadn't realized just how long he was observing, for she had been standing there, observing him as well. At the mere thought of that, he folded the collar of his coat up to hide his face, making it look like he was cold. The girl didn't fall for that, though.

"You seem kind of odd. Why are you hiding?" Her voice was very soft, but very confident. The sound almost reminded Donny of cotton candy, a luxury he had experienced one night when a child dropped a bagful of the fresh, fluffy pink sugar next to a storm drain he had been passing. (Luckily the bag was closed; he was getting sick and tired of finding rotten things.)

"I'm just cold," Donny answered rather quickly.

"Uh huh." The girl approached him, and for some reason, Donny seemed rooted to the spot. He had no strength nor desire to reach for his weapon, even though he was scared out of his mind. She unbuttoned his coat and slipped it off, while almost at the same time flipping off his fedora. Her wide arctic blue eyes scared Donny more than anything in his whole life when she beheld the awesome creature standing before her.

Donny was getting ready to run from her, until he realized she was downright enthralled. She seemed to be one of those people who has to touch things; and that's precisely what she did. She touched his plastron, outlining with her fingers the indents of the lines forming squares across it. She touched his arms, interested in the texture of his greenish flesh. She touched the folds of his neck, her eyes sparkling with interest the entire time. She touched his shell, his belt, his weapon, his hands, his face, his nose...she couldn't get enough of him.

"Wow," she sighed, "You are absolutely fascinating." Donny hadn't heard anybody say that to him, not even Splinter. It was something he knew the meaning of, but never used or heard it being used. Not directed at him, anyway. He himself used the word a lot when fixing things, but either than that, it was a rare word that was like a treat to hear.

"Uh...thanks," was all Donny managed to stammer. Finally, after recovering from his shock, he addressed her more formally. "If you don't mind, before you please yourself in observing me more, may I ask your name?" He hadn't meant to sound rude, which was, unfortunately, the way it sounded. So, he smiled at her with friendliness.

The girl smiled back, her lips a lovely, shining thin-on-top-full-on-bottom pair. She flipped off her hat, seeming to show she had nothing to hide from him. Emerging from where her ears should have been were horns, curling back and then folding forward, sharp an dangerous. She reminded Donny of a ram almost. Her eyes sparkled again with excitement upon the finding of another strange one like her.

"My name's Brandy."