NOTE: There will probably be grammar mistakes that I will fix later.

...

Two weeks ago...

Mikey woke up in the middle of the night with a rumbling stomach and decided to get a midnight snack. Perhaps a full frozen pizza with jelly bean toppings would be enough. As he made his way down the hall, he saw that the living room was lit by the T.V. He was surprised to see Rocket watching a movie on the couch.

"Rocket?"

Said raccoon peeked over the couch at the Turtle, and Mikey could've sworn that he saw fear in those brown eyes for a second. "Oh, hey, Mike."

"What are you doing up so late?"

Rocket went back to watching the movie. "What? Is it a crime to stay up late?"

Mikey walked over to the couch and sat down next to his friend. "Is everything okay?"

Rocket nodded without looking away from the T.V. "Yeah. Just couldn't sleep, y'know? So I'm watching a movie 'til I doze off. No big deal."

There was a pause before Mikey asked, "Did you have a bad dream?"

Rocket said nothing for a moment, then he answered softly, "Maybe."

Mikey wrapped an arm around the raccoon. "You wanna talk about it?"

Rocket shook his head. "No thanks. Let me just watch this movie."

"Talking about it might help you feel better."

The raccoon briefly glanced up at him before turning back to the screen. "It ain't pretty."

Mikey shrugged. "I think I can handle it, as long as it's not about pizza turning to dust in your mouth. That one haunted me for weeks."

Rocket chuckled, then he took a deep breath. "Well, okay, if you insist. My dream started with a memory, a horrible one..."

...

He was strapped down to a cold metal table, the bright lights in the ceiling hurting his eyes. Silhouettes surrounded and looked down on him. They were sticking syringes into him and cutting pieces of his flesh off. His screams of pain and agony fell deaf on their ears and they tortured him for hours. They didn't care that he was suffering greatly; they only cared about the data and results.

They gave him life, but he wished every day that they hadn't.

After testing and experimenting, they'd put him back in the small cage for the night. There were other creatures in the room with him, abominations that should never had been created, their very existence considered a taboo. He could hear their moans and wails and them desperately kicking at their doors.

He was extremely tired from today's experiments and began to fall asleep when he heard a slow creaking sound. To his shock, his door opened on its own. He didn't know how it was possible nor did he care, and he wasted no time leaping out of his cage and running to freedom.

Seconds later the facility's alarms go off. Somehow they had found out about his escape.

He ran down the halls as fast as he could but couldn't find an exit, and he could hear their footsteps behind him. They were getting closer and he was becoming slower. Panic began to set in and he thought about stopping and begging for mercy when he suddenly bumped into a pair of green, scaly legs and fell backward.

When he looked up, Mikey was staring down at him with a smile on his face. Without saying a word, he reached down and picked up the raccoon, staring at him with his baby blue eyes.

He should've felt safe in Mikey's hold, but for some reason, he didn't. Something didn't feel right.

Then all of a sudden, the Turtle's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he opened his mouth to reveal large sharp teeth that was just dripping with saliva.

Before Rocket could even scream, his head was shoved into the mouth.

...

Mikey stared at his friend absolutely horrified. "Rocket, that's horrible! Why would you dream of something like that?!"

Rocket shrugged, eyes still on the T.V. "I dunno. It was just a dream, anyway."

But Mikey wouldn't let it go. "You wouldn't have dreamt it if nothing was bothering you." He gently scratched the top of the raccoon's head. "It's okay. You can tell me."

After a moment of silence, Rocket finally confessed. "I guess I've been hurt by so many people that...I'm scared that one day...you'll hurt me, too."

Hearing that hurt Mikey's heart. Rocket was scared that his friend would hurt him?

Rocket looked up at him with apologetic eyes. "I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't trust you, 'cause I trust you more than anyone." He lowered his gaze in shame. "And I hate that I have these...insecurities, if you know what I mean."

Mikey pulled the raccoon close to him in a hug. "It's okay, Rock," he said gently. "I understand. And you don't have to worry, 'cause I could never, ever hurt you like that."

The raccoon slowly smiled and laid his head down on the Turtle's plastron. He finally went to sleep minutes later in Mikey's embrace.

But Mikey didn't get a wink of sleep that night. He couldn't stop thinking about that terrible dream.

...

Present Time...

"Rocket! Rocket, wake up!"

The raccoon slept soundly on the couch while holding the remote in his right hand. A cheesy black-and-white monster movie played on the TV, which he had left on after he drifted off to sleep. It took a finger gently tapping his nose to make him finally wake up.

"Whazzat...?" he mumbled as he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a large all-black figure with pupil-less white eyes staring down at him. "EEEEEAAAAAH!" He screamed shrilly along with the scared woman on the TV.

"Rocket, wait!" The stranger waved his hands. "Wait! It's me!"

"Who are you?!" Rocket jumped off the couch and ran to the coffee table where his gun was. "Get outta here!"

"Rocket, it's me, Mikey!"

Rocket's hand froze before he could touch the gun and he turned his head to the stranger. "What?"

Mikey nodded his noseless, mouthless head. "Yeah! It's me! Can't you tell?"

Rocket studied his features. The shape of his body seemed awfully familiar, and the white chest looked just like a turtle's plastron. But when he sniffed the air, he didn't recognize the scent. He lowered his brows in suspicion. "Okay, if you're Mikey, prove it."

"Prove it?" Mikey scratched the top of his head. "Okay. Um...when we first met on the Kyln, you said your name was... what was it...oh, yeah, 'None-Of-Your-Beeswax-And-You'd-Better-Scram-Or-I'll-Kick-Your-Ass'."

Rocket blinked before he chuckled in disbelief. "No way. That really you, Mike?"

"Yep! Sure is!"

"What the heck are you wearin'? Some kind of new gothic look?"

"Heh, no. I don't know what this thing is," Mikey gestured to himself. "I don't even remember putting it on."

Rocket raised a confused eyebrow. "Wait, so you just woke up in that thing? That's freaky." He approached the Turtle and touched his arm, then he immediately retracted his hand. "Eeyuck! It's so smooth and...and slick, like a hard boiled egg."

"Really?" Mikey asked. "Feels like a second skin to me."

"And how can you even breathe under there?"

"Dunno." Mikey took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "But somehow I can. Isn't this the coolest?"

"Eh, I wouldn't say that just yet. Can you even take it off?"

"Take it off? I didn't even think about that." Mikey pinched his right arm and tried to pull the black skin off, but he was also pulling at his own. "Ow!" He then tried pulling it off his cheeks, but the substance was stuck to them as well. "Oww!"

"Uh-oh," Rocket said. "You're stuck, aren't you?"

"How do you get this thing off?!" Mikey began to panic as he reached behind him to pull it off his shell. Again, he cried out in pain as he tugged effortlessly. "Ow ow ow ow!"

"Here, let me try." Rocket dug his sharp claws into Mikey's right leg and began scratching at the black skin. But it was like scratching rubber and it was too thick and strong for him to cut through. "You even feeling this?"

Mikey frantically shook his head. "Wait! I got an idea!" He ran into the kitchen with Rocket following after him and pulled a knife out of the cabinet drawer. "I'll just cut it off!"

"You sure that's safe?" Rocket asked with concern.

But the Turtle ignored him and proceeded to run the knife along his upper right arm. But the blade couldn't slice through the dark skin. He tried a second time, then a third time, and it was no use. He yelled in frustration as he threw the knife down, which landed a few inches away from Rocket.

"Hey, watch it!" the raccoon cried. "Calm down!"

"How can I calm down?!" Mikey shouted as he clasped the sides of his head. "I can't get it off me!"

"Well, panicking is not gonna help things!" Rocket quickly glanced around the kitchen and got an idea when he saw the stove. "Try burning it off."

"Yeah!" Mikey quickly turned the knob. "Yeah, good idea, Rock!" He held his arm over of the burner and the black substance recoiled from the flames, revealing Mikey's green skin at last. "It's working!"

Suddenly, the entire suit started to peel from Mikey's body and it became the slimy goop again, but instead of falling off, it crawled right into his shell.

"Eeek!" Mikey shivered and instantly got goosebumps. "Now it's in my shell!"

"That's disgusting," Rocket mumbled. "But at least you got your ugly mug back. Jokes aside, we should go get help. Stark or Dr. Banner could probably get that thing off."

Mikey nodded, still a little shaken from the whole ordeal. "Yeah."

Just then the black goop poked its head out of Mikey's shell and started to wiggle like a worm.

"Ewww!" Rocket pointed at it. "It's peeking out!"

"Huh?" Mikey turned his head and saw the wiggling black creature. "Whoa." He curiously poked at it and giggled as it wrapped itself around his finger. "Hey, little guy. You know, it's actually kinda cute."

Rocket looked at him incredulously. Just a minute ago, the kid was freaking out and trying to destroy the thing, and now he was calling it "cute". He sighed and shook his head. "You're too much, Mike."

"What?"

"I said, you're too-"

"Shh," Mikey suddenly shushed him, then he looked down at the goop on his finger. "Did you...say something?" There was a momentary pause before the Turtle's eyes widened in shock. "You can talk?"

Rocket looked at him confused. He didn't hear anything, and there was no one else in the room but them. He rubbed the inside of one of his ears and listened again, but there was still total silence.

"You came out of that black rock Bigfoot gave me?" Mikey asked the creature. "You're an alien? That's really cool!"

"Uh, Mike?" Rocket scratched the back of his head. "You're not going...crazy on me, are you?"

"Huh?" Mikey looked at the raccoon. "What do you mean? Can't you hear him?"

Rocket shook his head.

"Well, I hear him loud and clear. In my head, at least. It must be some kind of, uh...what would Donnie call it?"

"'Telephathy'?"

"Yeah, that. Huh?" Mikey looked back at the goop. "You're a 'symbiote'? What's that?" He nodded slowly as he listened. "So you and I are one now? That's really neat...and kinda creepy."

"You got a symbiote clinging to ya?" Rocket asked with a disgusted look. "Gross! We gotta get rid of that thing!"

"Hold up, Rocket! We can't do that!"

"Why not? About five minutes ago, you would've agreed with me!"

"If you separate us, he could die! He's not gonna hurt me. He's just trying to survive."

"Oh, so you're content with it feeding off ya like a leech?"

"No! I mean, it's only for a little while. Just 'til we find him a new home." The goop wiggled a little. "Sorry, 'new host'."

Rocket scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm totally serious. Who am I to turn a homeless alien away? I took you and Nebula in, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that's different. We're your friends, but you don't know the first thing about that living snot. It could be dangerous."

Mikey lowered his brow disapprovingly. "Okay, first of all, stop calling him 'it'. Second, he takes offense to being called 'snot'. He prefers 'symbiote'."

"Whatever," Rocket mumbled and shook his head. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."

The Turtle cleared his throat and lifted his finger so that the symbiote would be looking directly at him. "Alright, little guy, if you wanna stay on my body, you're gonna have to follow a couple of rules. Rule number one, that whole body suit thing? You only get to do that when I ask you to, and when I want it off, it comes off. No questions asked. Rule number two, whenever I go to the bathroom, you need to give me as much privacy as you can. I feel uncomfortable when other people stare. Rule number three, my bedtime is your bedtime. Only wake me up for emergencies. Rule number four, we never turn away pizza. You don't get to object. You get all that?"

The goop wiggled in response.

"Alright then! Welcome to the lair, little guy!" Mikey then realized something. "You know what? We need to come up with a name for you!" He tapped his chin as he pondered. "Let's see...we'll call you..." He grinned as a lightbulb turned on. "We'll call you 'Gloopy'!"

Rocket snorted. "'Gloopy'?"

"Yep! Cool name, right?"

...

From the rooftop of a tall building, Rocket watched for any sign of trouble with binoculars of his own design. Nebula sat on the ledge next to him, eating a ham and lettuce sandwich but staying alert.

She glanced back at Mikey, who was doing backflips on his free time, which was rather unusual since the Turtle used to hate that. His father Splinter would punish him and his brothers for misbehaving by forcing them to do ten backflips, sometimes twenty if they were in real big trouble. But now the young Turtle didn't seem to mind; in fact, he was having fun. And what was even more weird was that he didn't even break a sweat, possibly because of his new little friend.

The cyborg turned to the raccoon. "I still don't trust it," she said.

"The symbiote?" Rocket asked while still overlooking the city. "Yeah, me either."

"He needs to get rid of it."

"Well, that's up to him, but he insists on keeping it. And we can't force him to give it up."

"So you're not going to do anything?"

"What do you want me to do?" Rocket lowered his binoculars to look up at Nebula. "Knock him out so that we can remove the symbiote ourselves?"

Nebula seemed to consider this option and nodded. "That could work."

Rocket gave her a disgusted glare. "No. We can't do that to him. We're his friends. No, scratch that. We're his family. We can't break his trust, even if it's for his own good." He looked back at the city. "And look, I get that your family was messed up and probably did stuff like that all the time, but we don't."

As soon as he said that, he realized that he had gone too far.

He sighed and hesitantly turned his head toward her. "Look, um, I shouldn't have said that. Sorry."

But she shook her head, a look of shame in her dark eyes. "No. No, you're right. I keep forgetting that my father's ways are not our ways. I try to be better than him, but...sometimes...I act just like him."

Rocket looked at her sympathetically. "Hey, you are better than him. And yeah, you're a little screwed up, but, honestly, we all are."

Nebula gave him a small grateful smile. But just as she opened her mouth to say something, they heard a booming sound in the distance, and sure enough, several blocks away, smoke began to rise.

"What was that?" Mikey joined them and noticed the smoke. "Think it's the Thanos cult again?"

"My trash panda instincts tell me, 'duh'," Rocket grumbled as he pulled out his small gun and turned it on.

"Alright!" Mikey grinned and cracked his knuckles. "Let's go kick butt!"

Then, to the raccoon and cyborg's surprise, Mikey took a big leap and was so high that he grabbed the flag pole of an even taller building, swung off of it, did a couple of flips midair, and landed perfectly on another rooftop before continuing on his way.

They stood there in stunned silence for a moment, before Nebula turned to Rocket. "Did you know he could do that?"

Rocket slowly shook his head. "Uh-uh."