Tuesday Night
The kitchen was a rather echoey location and one of the few rooms not sound proofed over the course of time they had lived there. As much as the clattering of pots and pans could be irritating, Donatello never spent much time in there to be distracted by such sound waves, unlike, let's say, Michelangelo.
His segments were often a temporary, if not absolute requirement for meals and snacks, and rare, rare cases of family meetings that just so happened to take place in said locale rather than anywhere else.
His cheerful whistle bounced off the bricks and high ceilings as he strolled into the room, shuffling about the cabinets and collecting a bowl with a mixture of sweet and salty treats both pleasing to the eye and pallet. Collecting a soda from the fridge, he turned and bumped the door shut, nearly jumping in place at his little brother's grin,
"You're in a good mood."
Adjusting the bowl in his arm, Donnie arched a brow, whistle cutting short, "Yes. Yes, I am."
"Awesome! Wanna join in?"
The royal clad teen glanced over his brother's head at the group clustered along the chopping board island, perched along their stools as they kept their cards concealed from one another. How he hadn't noticed them there was beyond him…more distracted than he realized. It was the only logical explanation.
He would've patted Mikey's head if he could, but his arms were occupied, and his pack was charging, so instead, he merely shrugged his shoulders,
"Alas, Angelo, I cannot. It's Tuesday. You know I'm off limits on Tuesdays."
The glee in his brother's face toned down to a mask of understanding and deep rooted hurt, "Oh, yeah —right! 'Cause…uh…"
Setting a card down on the table, the eldest poked a fist under his chin, "That Jocelyn game."
"Javelin."
The correction held irritation, but went ignored.
The largest of the four stretched his shoulder out, throwing his move down, "Tuesdays and Thursdays are Donnie's bonding time with April…though it's been goin' nearly every night now. They play until the crack of dawn, keepin' everybody else up with their yellin'. I'm all for quality time, but if you keep me up one more night, I'm smashin' that tv, buddy."
Hugging the bowl closer, Donnie frowned,
"You sound like her mother."
"Just be a little considerate. The rest of us like to sleep…or least need to sleep."
Wincing innocently, Mikey rubbed along his neck, "You could always soundproof your room?"
"Or your face. Whichever's easiest." Leo noted with a smirk, eyes lifting curiously when Donatello pointed at all of them, the soda still firmly within his grasp,
"Go ahead, scoff if you will, but while you've gathered and played your little archaic card games, April and I decimated the competition last week and obliterated the leaderboards which qualified us in the Javelin Tristate Area Tournament. This time next month, you will be in the presence of a Grand Master —reputation and prize money in hand."
"And now I'm interested —money, you say?"
"Knock it off, Leo. You know he takes this stuff seriously."
"Who says I'm not? We could use a few upgrades around the place. We'll have to start buyin' them at the rate Donnie's been game addicted. I know being locked up in your room is your thing, but really. A little fresh air wouldn't kill you."
"Not helping, Leo…" Mikey muttered, shuffling out of the way and back toward the island, "Besides, it can't be all that bad if April's playin' with him. Keeps things in check."
Brows falling heavy, it got awkwardly quiet as Donatello clicked his jaw to the side.
"…Excuse me? And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
Eyes darting about, the smallest of the mutants offered a sheepish grin as his other brothers avoided contact, lost within their carded hands,
"N-Nuthin'! I-It's just, y'know? You an' games? You can get a little…lost…? It is SO nice that you and April have a thing, y-you should totally get on that —it's Tuesday, right? Time's a tickin'!"
Eyes clicking toward the stove clock, Donnie kept a sour mug, shuffling toward the archway exit.
"Nice segue, Michael…Conversation isn't over." he uttered under his breath, and Mikey ducked his chin timidly into his shell, not looking forward toward part two.
Shaking his head, the second youngest of the four scuttled back down the empty halls, walls void of any echoing tune. His mood had been dampened only a fraction.
They simply didn't understand.
It wasn't the kind of game they could get behind. Too much planning and upgrading. They'd rather the quicker beat-em-up types, which were all fun and good —but Javelin was different. It had well written storyline and intricate backstories and, of course, your team was only as good as your partner.
To unlock the next chapters, both halves of any team needed to reach the goal points together, and survive the ordeals of the NPCs as well as the live players. Only one set of characters could truly complete the story, and only the best of the best had gotten this far.
And Donnie was the best of the best.
But everything up to now had been child's play. A tournament was going to contain only the top tier players…players with cheats, and hacks, and wildcards ready to do whatever it took to win the grand prize.
He and April needed to be ready, and there was no better way to do so than to practice. Scout out the safe spots, utilize the best weapons, best armor, best stats, memorize the terrain —he could feel his chest ramming with excitement at the very thought.
And with this, a treasured smile adorned his face when he arrived at his room, the disappointment of being misunderstood by his brethren a long forgotten thought.
He was going to get lost in his world, a universe of numbers and code, and adore every moment of it.
Dropping in his chair, Donnie shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and snapped on his headset, loading everything as he settled in.
Menu…sign in…profile…co-op waiting room…
Brows knitting curiously, he glanced at his phone.
Seven thirty.
Strange.
April was usually logged in at this point, especially since she wanted to upgrade some of her armor. Side quests were so….mechanical, and not in the best way. But worth it in the end. Would he get back those precious hours of his life? No.
But was it worth it?
Absolutely.
Look how far it had gotten them.
Waiting a few minutes, he cracked open his soda and look a sip, swiveling from side to side, but as the minutes grew longer and longer, he realized nearly fifteen had passed and that was far too generous. Snatching his phone, his fingers attacked the screen.
'alias, destiny awaits. tournament training needed pronto. where are you?'
His eyes remained glued to the screen as the floating dots animated up and down…up and down…
and remained that way for a good minute.
Stranger.
April was typically a fast responder, unless she was teasing him —which was more often than he liked to admit, but when she did so, she never replied midway and gave up. She often left radio silence to drive him mad before popping back into the conversation, and never this long.
His brows had fallen heavily in earnest concern, wondering if something genuinely bad had happened. It wasn't like the teen wasn't a complete magnet for the strange and obscure. Sure, she was able to defend herself…to a point…but what if she needed help? Well…she had her SOS, and she had most certainly used it before in times of crises.
She was fine. Everything was fine. Despite the creeping uncomfortable indigestion lurking in his gut, everything was fine.
But her response, when she finally did hit send, hardly lifted the feeling.
'i can't. ╥﹏╥'
His eyes widened at the message, fingers quick to reply, but hers had been faster,
'we got assigned a huge science project and it's a big chunk of our grade. teacher's requiring a data log for every week we're workin on it.'
He skimmed the note with a sigh of relief, a calmer smile curled as he deleted the start of his previous message, setting one anew,
'never fear, dear alias, for science is mine bread and butter. there's yet to be a problematic equation that I've yet to solve. except mystic power, but we don't talk about that one.'
Again, the dots rode wave after wave, leaving him somewhat unsettled.
Thumbing along his chin, he arched a brow as whatever she had typed had been erased, and the dots stopped moving, disappearing all together.
'sorry, D…you gotta sit this one out'
His eyes widened at the screen, immediately huffing,
"Aw, c'mon!"
She wasn't going down the mystic route again, was she? She knew how much that flustered him. He had given it a chance once, wasn't that good enough? It was a science project, not a mystic magic flash-and-powder-garbage project. If that was the case, she could've texted Leo—
No. No, terrible idea.
He would prefer his pride be shattered than April going to Leo for any logical assistance. Discouraging as it was, he'd rather be told at face value that his extraordinary skills were unwarranted, for what it was worth.
But rather than argue with her, he had found that building the guilt train was equally as powerful. Psychological warfare was a game of manipulation and emotional turmoil —two things he had, over time, grown to find quite useful when the moment called for it.
'…oh'
It took milliseconds before the dots danced once more, and with a slouch, he typed again, balancing the phone on his chest,
'yea. okay. cool. sounds good. i mean if you're sure. nbd.'
Her message was much faster this time.
'would you knock it off? if pouting could have words, geez'
He winced at the snap, though it was only brief,
'we got assigned a partner for the project and he's comin over to start it today. wasn't exactly planned.'
Brows knitting sourly, Donatello clicked his jaw. Well, that complicated things.
A standalone project would've been smooth sailing, but a tagalong posed all kinds of problems, especially concerning his whole…situation.
Exhaling heavily, he had no choice but to throw in the flag…at least, somewhat.
'i can always check in later and monitor your progress'
Her reply came swiftly,
'you know you can't help yourself. if you make any kind of change i can't explain, that's gunna be a whole other problem. please donnie, just sit back and let me handle this. besides, the faster I get this project done, the faster we can get back to Javelin.'
His brows lifted. He had nearly forgotten. Priorities, priorities.
'an i gotta make sure this project is solid. if we mess this up, my mom will cut off my online subscription.'
His frown deepened.
'two for two on shattering my heart. but fair enough. education trumps all. is this guy at least sufficient when it comes to the sciences?'
'honestly…I have no idea. he sits in the back of the room so ive never really talked to him. guess we'll see. but i think he's here. someone just buzzed in. catch you later, D'
Poking his tongue, his eyes shifted toward the game screen, already dimmed in standby mode,
'godspeed'
'peace n love'
Clattering the phone against his gut, Donnie sighed. Well, that certainly ruined everything. Pop up projects and the like.
In reality, he would've loved to partake in anything of the sort…to just be able to waltz into a school without the constant dread of paranoia scoped within his eyes —though time and time again, April had assured him that such feelings didn't alter regardless of being a full human or not. High school came with its own challenges and enemies, but to know what that was like instead of imagining it…
Wishful thinking.
Until the day he could just deny half of his genetics, bound to the sewers he'd stay. Well, with the occasional outing.
He supposed he could always join in on Mikey's original offering…
Eyes scrolling toward the screen, he shook his head and sat up, scooting his chair closer. Just because April couldn't play didn't mean he couldn't. He still needed to practice, and there were plenty of side quests he could replay for credits.
She left him no choice. If she had been impressed with the last weapon line up, she was going to faint with the next batch. Taking a sip of his soda, Donnie shook the joystick from standby and made himself comfortable. It was going to be a long night.