A/N: Hey Everyone!
Sorry for the delayed updates. I've been sick with a cold and then it turned into the flu. I had to go to the hospital because my temperature was really high. But, I'm okay now, just a slight fever now. I just hope I get better for Homecoming! lol
Anyway, I want to take the time for those who have reviewed and added me to their alert list or whatever. THANK YOU! They made my day when I signed on this morning. hehe
I won' t delay you any further...
SLIGHTLY EDITED
"New High Score!" Michelangelo shouted from where he sat on the couch.
"You know, Mikey. If you put in half the effort you do playing video games into practice, you'd probably make a much better ninja." Leonardo told him as he paused and looked up from the newspaper.
Michelangelo scoffed at that. "Apparently, you have no idea who you're talking to, bro."
Raphael growled, stopping his beating of the punching bag. "You jus' had to encourage him."
"Here we go." Donatello said under his breath, glancing up from his book.
Michelangelo was now cupping his ear. "I'm guessing by the silence that you all don't have any idea who you're talking to!" he leapt atop the couch and grinned. "Well, it will be my pleasure to remind you..." the orange banded turtle cleared his throat dramatically. "Turtles...- oh, and Raph," Rapheal growled and narrowed his eyes at that. "I introduce to you the undeniabley, ravishing all-star - MICHELANGELO, BATTLE NEXUS CHAMPION"
He waved heartily to an imaginary crowd of people, distributing a bow here and there.
"What is all the commotion?" Master Spliner asked, retreating from the meditation room. He turned to the orange banded turtle. "Michelangelo, please get off from standing on the couch and since you seem to be capable of standing on your own two feet, perhaps we should have a private training session tonight."
"But Sen- " he broke off at the piercing look his father gave him and sighed instead.
"Begin with stretching and then thirty flips as a warm up, my son." Master Splinter said. "I will come to join you shortly."
"Yes, Sensei." Michelangelo replied with a bow before he headed off towards the Dojo.
Leonardo folded up the newspaper and stood up from the chair. "If you want, Sensei. I will instruct Michelangelo for tonight."
Master Splinter shook his head. "Thank you, Leonardo, but no. Take your brothers and go out for patrol, I expect you to be back by ten o'clock and no later."
"Yes, Sensei." Leonardo said and motioned for his brothers.
"It's about time!" Raphael exclaimed as Master Splinter watched them head out the lair. "I've been craving for some action!"
"Raph, we're not looking for trouble..." Donatello contined on as he follwed them out with Raphael smart mouthing him back, their voices fading as the doors closed behind them.
Master Splinter sighed, rubbing his forehead and joined his son in the Dojo only to stop when he found his young son, scratching at the back off his neck. "Michelangelo, what is the meaning of this?! I thought I told you to start on your stretches?"
"I did!" Michelangelo replied in a whiney voice. "But, I fell after I lost my footing while sumersaulting in the air and now my neck is itchyyyyy!"
"Let me take a look." the old rat motioned for his son to turn around kneel so he could inspect him. His eyes widened at the blotchy, bleeding spot that Michelangelo had been scratching at. "Oh no, my son. You cannot train in this condition, it seems the antibiotics that Donatello has been using is not helping..." he sighed, helping him up. "I will clean and wrap it up for tonight and then you are to go straight to bed. Perhaps, it would be wise to phone Leatherhead on this. How is your ankle? "
"It's okay for now." Michelangelo said, glancing down at himself as he followed his father out of the Dojo "It's just numb."
"Just as a precaution, I will bind your ankle up as well." Master Splinter said as an afterthought. He took notice as Michelangelo reached up. Taking his wooden walking stick in hand, Master Splinter whapped his son.
"Owwwww!" was the expected reply as Michelangelo recoiled and rubbed furiously at his stinging hand. "What was that for?"
"It seems I will have to get the mittens out as well." Master Splinter said, grabbing Michelanelo by the arm and seating him on the couch. "That is the only way I can keep from scratching and irritating your skin further." he added when the orange banded turtle groaned in response before getting up to go and retrieve the first aide kit. When he returned and patched up Michelangelo, who was grimacing in pain throughout. Finally, he set away the supplies and sent his son up to bed. "I will check up on you in in the morning."
"See you tommorrow, Sensei." Michelangelo mumbled, miserably.
"Good Night, my son."
Michelangelo entered his room, closed the door behind him and turned on his small lava lamp or as Raphael liked to call it, "night light." He climbed into bed, knowing full well that Master Splinter was probably listening. So, he settled himseld in between his orange sheets and stared at spot on the wall long enough to hear his brothers return home before he drifted off into a deep sleep.
"Hello?" Michelangelo called down a lone tunnel.
A scurrying sound and a flash of a shawdow caught his attention and he whirrled around. "Leo? Is that you?..."
No answer. "Raph...Don?...Sen-Sensei?"
Clunk! Clunk!
Scratching sounds echoed around him."Dudes, this isn't...this isn't funny, anymore." he said, feeling around for his nunchucks. The lights flickered on and off, casting an eerie kind of feeling in the tunnel. Hearing a slight rumbling noise, Michelangelo swallowed and leaned his ear against the wall.
As if knowing he was there, a hoard of small rats spilled from a large crack in the wall. Squeaking and scurrying over his feet and soon rising towards his ankles, their red eyes glowing in the darkness. Michelangelo was panicking, his breath becoming short as he slowly started to be engulfed in the mountain of rats as they contined to shew at his flesh and rising in numbers up to his hips.
"N-no..." he whimpered, closing his eyes.
The evil laugh of the Rat King bounced off the walls, staring down at his victim from a railing above.
Michelangelo shifted in his sleep for what must have been the thousandth time since his head hit the pillow of his bed. He let out a yelp as he awoke from another nightmare and stared up at the ceiling. By now it was midnight and the light snores from the rooms outside of his told him his brothers had found their sleep much more easily than he had. He yawned, pushing the nightmare from his mind, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and placing his feet onto the stone ground of the lair. A slight purring from his left made him flinch and his eyes were brought to a ball of fur huddled in the corner of his room.
His orange cat, Klunk was curled up, sleeping peacefully atop of a pile of old newspapaers.
The orange banded turtle smiled with relief, wrapping his orange blanket tightly around him and tip toed out of his quarters towards the main room. He suddenly felt like he had something expanding in his head, pounding away like a drum. Not to mention his stomach, which was turning in knots that he felt like he could throw up any second. He groaned, furrowing his brows and redirected his way to the bathroom instead.
Upon entering, he opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Ibprofin that stood out from the emptiness of the shelves. He popped two tiny white pills into his mouth, drowning them in water from the sink faucet before he exited the bathroom and dragged his feet into the living area.
He threw himself onto the battered sofa and sighed deeply, stretching his legs out to lay down. His hands scrambled for the clicker and he pressed the power button to turn on the television. A late night scare marathon! Michelangelo settled down into the cushion of the sofa and immeresed himself into the movie, trying hard to ignore the pain of his head and stomach. Slowly, but surely the young turtle drifted into slumber after the second movie of the marathon started. His orange blanket had been kicked off and now layed in a bundle on the ground, leaving him to succumb in the drafty air of the lair.
It was not peaceful sleep. Michelangelo would find himself waking at least every hour before going back into dreamworld. Between the night chills and the stomach pains, he couldn't figure out whether he wanted his blanket or he wanted to throw up all over the floor.
The next time he roused, however, he found himself doubled over the toilet, dishing out the contents in his stomach into the bowl. He groaned, leaning his head against it and sighed, tugging his blanker tighter around him. His body was aching and a tingle was overcoming the back of his neck down towards his arms, it didn't feel nice, it felt like someone was placing an iron hot metal against his skin. It puzzled him just how he had managed to run all this way without tripping his own two feet, but he concluded that would just end himself in an even worse headache.
"Mphf..." he grunted, pushing himself onto his feet. He wavered a bit, but was able to stand after a breif moment. Not wanting to waste any prescious time, Michelangelo flushed the toilet and shuffled back towards his room.
Usually, the thought of being enclosed in darkness would scare him into his shell, but right now he found the the nightlight would not help ease his head. So, for the first time, the young turtle climbed himself into bed, the thoughts of what lay in the shadows of his room far from his mind as he let his lids droop closed.
"Turtle Titan reporting for duty!" Michelangelo shoted as he entered a tower full of superheros.
"Just the turtle we wanted to see," Silver Sentry replied, grinning as he swung an arm around his reptile friend's shoulder.
"There's a maniac terrorizing the city." announced a woman dressed in a red flamed symbol costume. "We heard that you have encountered him before."
"Whoever it is, I can take him." Michelangelo answered. "Bring him on! Is it...The Shredderinator? Did he like he return as some automatic robot who shoots laser from his hands this time...or maybe it's Draco, I never did get along with that dude...or maayyybe - "
"Actually, this time it's someone who we've labeled as - " Silver Senry was cut off.
" - The Rat King." finished a man in a lightning bolt covered costume.
Michelangelo felt his throat go dry.
"Mikey..."
"Mikey, wake up."
"Mike."
"Michelangelo, open your eyes, my son."
Voices drifted into his mind and he groaned against the rushing sound in his ears, his head feeling as if it was being hammered over and over again. He grasped his pillow and shoved it over his head, to keep out the noises that were surrounding him.
"Michelangelo." Master Splinter called in a strict, but gentle tone, moving the pillow from his tight hold over his head. He could hear him whispering something and the murmurs quieted down into silence. "Michelangelo, how are you feeling?" A tone of worry was laced in his voice.
At this question, it seemed that his body seemed to answer as the stinging pain overcame him again. He whimpered, opening his eyes and letting them adjust to the light that filtered his room. His blurry vision cleared and he was finally able to take in his family, who were surrounding his bed with identical looks of worry. Donatello was standing over him with a bowl in his hand and was dabbing a damp cloth at his forehead.
"Mmm..." he murmured, with a small smile. He looked at them through half closed eyes. "Feels good..."
Leonardo was kneeling at his bedside as well on his other side, gripping his hand while Raphael stood by a metal counter littered with tools and gadgets that Michelangelo couldn't recall being in his room. As he took a closer look, however, Michelangelo found he wasn't even in his room, but in Donatello's lab. He furrowed his brows. "Wassa' happenin'...?"
"I found this morning on the floor next to your bed. It seems you had fallen out." Donatello explained. "You have a slight fever though."
"I feel fine, though." Michelangelo replied, sitting up.
"Well, yes, but in reality your body isn't." Donatello explained. At the look his younger brother gave him, he just shook his head. "Forget it, Mikey. You don't need to worry about it anyway. Are you comfortable?"
Michelangelo felt a chill go up his spine and his throat craving for some cool liquid. "Lil' cold...an' I'm thirsty." he confessed sheepishly.
"Should I get his quilt?" Raphael asked, coming over to the group as Donatello handed the sick turtle a glass of water that had been sitting on the counter.
"Yeah, I think it might help with his chills." Donatello replied.
Michelangelo downed the whole glass before crossing his legs indian style against his family protest and gave a half hearted smiled. In reality, everything was killing him! He felt like he had run a hundred laps around the city and smashed into a brick wall.
"Am I gonna get better, Don?" He asked his brainac brother, curiously.
It was the eldest who answered this. "You will." he replied firmly with a slight smile. "Don't worry yourself, Mike. Let us do that."
Michelangelo scoffed as he was forced to lie back down. "So, how did I get so sick all of a sudden?"
Silence.
"That's why I'm here." a voice said from the doorway. Leatherhead stepped into the lab behind Raphael and smiled at his friends.
A/N: I think this is my fav chapter so far. I don't know why either.