Disclaimer:…. I obviously do not own Ninja Turtles. Peter Lair and Kevin Eastman do.
"Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse here everyday.
You learn to live like an animal, in the jungle where we play.
You gotta remember what you see, you'll see it eventually.
You can have anything you want, but you better not take it from me."
"Welcome to the Jungle." By Gun N' Roses.
The day before hell was actually pretty normal.
"Father! Father! Faaatttthhhheeeerrrr! Wake up!" A voice rang and echoed in a stone cave carved into the side of Mount Shasta. Inside this cave, two beings dwelled – two beings that weren't bears as most people would expect to live in a rocky cave.
Michaelangelo yawned and opened his single blue eye – despite his lack of depth perception, he could clearly see his adopted human daughter kicking his side and jumping up and down.
"Moth," he groaned "you are twenty years old; you don't need me for dawn runs anymore." Michaelangelo rolled back onto his side and pulled his deerskin blankets back over him. A frown creased on Moth's scarred, dirt-stained face; the young ninja reached for the canteen of water from the side of the sleeping mat, yanked the covers off of her father and poured ice-cold water on him.
Michaelangelo instantly jumped out of the mat, seething with grumpy anger. "YOU BRAT!" He screamed. Moth giggled and dashed away, her sensei hot on her heels "I'm going to punch you in the face until your face hurts!" He threatened – being half-asleep, he could only come up with a rather comical threat.
"You're going to have to catch me first, old man!" Moth taunted as she rocketed out of the cave, dashing onto the path that twined around the mountain, it had taken years to mesmerize the run and wear the path down with running feet.
"I am not old!" Master Michaelangelo shouted and angrily trailed after his adopted child.
"I don't know, forty-five sounds old to me!" Moth taunted with her amber eyes twinkling joyously, and jumped into a tree, looping around the branches a few times.
The turtles anger cooled as they continued scaling up the mountain – as they climbed higher up the mountain, the sun climbed higher up the sky, filling the tree-dense with beams of light.
Though his anger was cooled, it didn't mean Michaelangelo wouldn't have his revenge.
Moth stopped and kneeled along the side of a stream to take a drink – the stream had come from the top of mountain, and the water was melted snow-and-ice. With his disciples back turned to him, Michaelangelo raised his foot and used it to push her over the edge.
"Fff-fff," Moth gasped out, sitting in the water and starting to shiver "fffffuuuuck! That's f-f-fucking c-c-cold!"
Michaelangelo let out a small snort and crossed his arms as a amused crooked his lips "An old senile man once said, 'Payback's a bitch'."
"You're fucking senile too!" Moth snarled as picked herself up out of stream, shaking droplets of water out of her ragged dusky-brown hair.
"Not yet, but soon." Master Michaelangelo said to his daughter and she returned to his side "And when I do go senile – it'll be hell for you; your going to have to feed me, take care of me, and I'm telling myself right now that your name is Jim and you're my slave."
"Father…." Moth groaned at the thought.
Their lives weren't exactly perfect, but Moth accepted things as they were, and she would be, perhaps, less happy, if things were different. Moth could be considered a little too accepting – she was never bothered by anything about her life.
She wasn't bothered that her father was bi-polar, strict, not afraid to say things no matter how offensive (he called it 'blatant honesty'), somewhat insensitive, and well on the road towards senility. Hell, she wasn't even bothered that he committed infanticide to one who would be her age.
She knew full well that the true reason of her father ever adopting a child from an orphanage in the first place was so he could raise a warrior to help him destroy his enemy, who was also his blood brother; none of this bothered her. An good portion of people would feel used, or like a tool; it made Moth feel special.
There are a number of possibilities for this type of apathy; she was eager to please her father, knowing the story of her fathers past so well she had become adapted to putting herself in the same position to the point of hating Leonardo like he did.
It could also be because Moth wasn't exactly the zenith of sanity either. This was a young woman, who as a little girl, would catch field mice with her bare hands and break their necks, play with their dead bodies as if they were another little girls dollies; then she would take a stick, stab it through the mouse from mouth to anus, and roast it over an open fire as a kebab with a couple of field-snakes. This was a young woman, who had spent her entire life with a giant, talking, bloodthirsty turtle.
You are probably wondering where she came from; her story starts in a small orphanage in New Jersey.
Her parents she did not know; her mother, who was either a homeless woman or a teenager who wasn't ready for a child, left her as a baby in front of an orphanage with only a first name; Moth. Her first memories were the lonely ones from that orphanage.
It was when she was two, Michaelangelo who would later adopt her, was finally driven away from New York by his brothers constant assaults on him and his sister Venus DeMilo: Michaelangelo and Venus separated; Venus fled to some other state and Michaelangelo spent the next three years in New Jersey.
A year after moving to New Jersey, Michaelangelo realized he'd need to raise his own student to one day destroy Leonardo, so he picked Moth out from all the other orphans; he visited her every night for a year, and when she was four he finally took her away from the orphanage and they hitched a ride on a plane to California, where they settled on the bulwark of mountains that surrounded the golden state.
From the time she was five, Moth was trained viciously in Ninjitsu and wilderness survival; she made her first kill when she was six. Her first 'victim' was a rabbit and the weapon she had used was a rather crude tomahawk that was extremely difficult for her to carry or use at the time because of her tiny, underdeveloped child stature.
Now, fifteen years later; Moth was very close to mastering Ninjitsu. She was a prodigal warrior, the apple of her fathers single eye; she knew that very soon she would finally have a welcome rest from training and go to war with Leonardo and the vicious Foot clan.
Finally, they came near to the top of the mountain; snow capped the top of the mountain, and while in this spot it was more slush than actually snow, it would serve its purpose to them quite well.
Moth kicked a tree and broke off a large pierce of bark from its trunk; Master Michaelangelo did the same. They set the giant slabs of bark on the top of a foothill of stared down at the spot where snow and forest met.
"I'll beat you this time." Moth told her sensei in a cocky tone.
"The only time you'll beat me is when I'm dead." Michaelangelo said back and they snow-boarded down the side of the foothill with superb speed.
"WHOOOHOO!" Moth whopped and bended her knees as she crouched down, grabbing the edge of the bark-slab. "Eat my dust, old man!"
"You first!" Michaelangelo said before his 'board' rocketed off of a rock jutting out of the snow, sending him right into the forest.
This side of the mountain they were on was rather slanted; even when off the snow they would continue to 'board' down the side of the mountain until they were near home, especially with all the momentum they gain at the beginning. Knowing the mountain as well as they did, they would never hit tree's or rocks because they k new when to move away from them, weave between the foliage and dodge anything that could stop them – their movements were much like the wind.
Halfway down, Moth was far ahead of her father and took an alternate path home which she knew was a short cut – this time she was going to finally beat him back home.
Moth's board slid down the rocks and she flipped in the air a few times before landing on her feet in front of the cave entrance. Triumphantly, she raised her hands up into the air "Ha, I win!" She cheered.
"Really?" A dreaded reply came from behind her; she turned to see her father leaning against the cave wall – his cowl, nunchaku and mask were on which meant he must have gotten here a while before Moth did.
Moth stamped the ground in a small tantrum "How do you do that?" She demanded.
"Do you really think you are the only one who knows the shortcuts?" Master Michaelangelo chuckled "Now put on your over-gear and get your weapons for training."
Yawning and looking up at the sun which had gotten higher up in the sky, making it morning now, Moth entered the cave and took the short walk to the end where her own sleeping mat was.
Moth's under-gear consisted of baggy shorts and a jersey made of light-brown deerskin, a forearm band of reddish-brown moose fur, a belt also made of moose fur, gear capped with animal bones and wrist-guards made of rabbit fur. She also had a necklace made of eagle feathers and animals sharp teeth (fangs and canines of coyotes, bears and bobcats). Like her father, she also wore a red mask, which was the only 'fabric' she ever wore.
Her over-gear was consisted a cowl – it wasn't black fabric like her fathers was; the cape part of it was made of black bears fur, while the hood part of it was the actual gray-furred head of a coyote that she had skinned, the skinned feet of a black bear that still had the toes and claws which she used as boots and kept tied to her ankles with white gauss, and the skinned paws of the black bear which she used as gauntlets with the claws; she had cut out the five toe-pads of the bear and stuck her fingers out of them, she also kept these tied to her wrists with gauss.
With her cowl, gauntlets and boots on, Moth grabbed her beloved weapons – a metal tomahawk and twin scimitar (Arabian Swords). Her tomahawk would be strapped to her back under her cowl while her scimitar would be strapped to her waist in the sword-holsters connected to her belt.
Training lasted all day and ended at sun set. At training Moth would practice the katas she already knew but strived to memorize completely, shadow fight, exercise, stretch, learn a few knew techniques, meditate and live-spar with her father with and without their weapons. It was because of all of this constant training Moth believed war would be a welcome rest.
At sunset it was dinnertime – they still had plenty of moose jerky from an earlier hunt and dried forest herbs, luckily this time of year the plentiful blackberries were ripe so they had some of those too. Moth was a little disappointed their salt reserves had run out, but her father promised they would have another 'supply run' soon, which brightened Moth up a little.
They only had supply runs a few times a year, where they would re-stock on medical supplies, food items they rarely had (like candy, which Moth loved), trivial luxuries such as books or magazines and they would visit their good family friends, the McLeod's, which was the time that Moth would get to watch TV or play videogames or play with the other humans (The McLeod parents had six children, two baby/toddler boys, two adolescent boys, a adolescent girl and an young lady only a year younger than Moth.
After dinner, Moth popped her neck and walked away from the clearing in front of their cave-home "I will go to my pack now." Moth told her father. He nodded and gave her a brief warning to not be seen by humans before she ran off.
In a much smaller, separate cave a mile away, there lived a savage pack of coyotes that slept during the day and came out at night to hunt. The pack had one female with pups (two males), two other female pack members, and three male pack members. There was only one alpha. And while this alpha was indeed furry, savage and smelled terrible like they did, it was not exactly a coyote like that….
"Wake up, dogs!" Moth growled as she entered the cave – she heard smothered growls and whimpers from the cave. Being a trained ninja, Moth could see in the dark as well as she could in the day, and could see her pack rise from their bellies and trot over to her. Their jaws were tied shut with gauss that she had tied on.
Two years ago, she had taken control of this pack by slaying their alpha (the head of which was now the hood of her cowl that she wore) when they had tried to steal food from her home. Deciding to become their new leader, Moth had fought the coyotes (law of the club and fang) and made it to where they had to obey her; the gauss around their jaws only she could untie; only she could allow them to eat or drink. She lead them in hunting, she commanded when they attacked or fled, she stalked and attacked pray along side them, she chased away threats or enemies in form of rival coyote packs.
Moth entered the coyotes den and approached he mother coyote – the mother coyote was the only adult one that didn't have her jaws sealed, and this had been so ever since she was pregnant. "Hello Non-Fang," Moth said and patted the mother coyotes head; No-Fang had gotten her name by being easily the most docile of her pack, she would not snap her jaws at Moth ever, even when she was so close to her puppies. "Hello Jumper, Hoot." She addressed the two pups. The pups, Jumper and Hoot were two brother puppies that did not need to suckle anymore. Jumper was the bigger puppy, who trotted with a stride as if he were the alpha and had very much energy. Hoot was quiet, and rather creepy with his too-big black eyes.
Moth frowned when she heard a compressed growl behind her "Give it a rest, Raphael." She said to the large, brown, male coyote behind her who was also the father of Jumper and Hoot. She had named him after her dead uncle whom her father often talked about. The coyote Raphael was easily the most angry, impulsive, savage and often anti-social. (And, admittedly, every time her father mentioned his brother Raphael, she always imagined a rabid, savage-like turtle that lurked around his brothers like a guard-dog and growled at anything that came too close.) He was fiercely over-protective of his mate and pups and made it clear he did not respect Moth as alpha, as he was a coyote that could not be controlled and would perhaps make a better rogue that pack-dog. He snapped at Moth every time she freed his jaws from the bonds, even though he would be punished afterwards. He was her favorite coyote, because of his fierce nature.
Raphael growled as best he could between clenched jaws and shook his head a few times, black eyes fixated on her and filled with spite.
Moth ignored him and petted the elder-coyote that trotted towards her "Good evening, Splinter." She said to the elder-coyote; she named this coyote after her fathers father, Master Splinter – Michaelangelo explained Splinter as a wise old rat, who was very kind and very calm, but to Michaelangelo he had been old his entire life. Coyote Splinter was blind, had a ragged pelt and walked with a constant limp. He would be considered useless, since he could not hunt or fight, but he did guard the den and any of the pup-mothers that did not hunt. Coyote Splinter was possible the most domesticated of the group.
The other male pack member was named Speed, as he was easily the most swift-footed. And the two other females were named Song (as she was the most vocal) and Thug (The one with ruthless, savage, bloodthirsty behavior that exceeded Raphael. It almost seemed as if this female coyote killed more for sport than food.)
"Dogs," Moth commanded "tonight we hunt – I spotted a moose nearby; fill our bellies for days." The pack was silent, standing straight on their paws like quadruped soldiers in pelts – she knew they could not understand her human language, but they would almost seem as if they could understand her intention, her tone, her message to them.
With a motion of her head and a quick growl, she left the coyotes den and her pack followed.
Moth was fast; her father was fast, the fastest out of all of his brothers even and Moth exceeded his speed do to her younger age, denser bone structure (reptiles have rather hollow bones) and practically boundless energy and endurance. Being as fast as she was, Moth could both keep up, and lead the coyotes on a run – they trailed at her heels, their paws kneading the ground and their tongues lolling out of their mouths with foam bubbling the corners of their jaws.
Through the foliage, ruffage, shrubs and trees the coyote pack and their human alpha treaded – the forest was theirs and not even the trees could compete with the ruthless gang of savages.
Moth stopped abruptly and crouched behind a tree – she gave a small growl to warn her coyotes and they stopped as well, getting into a four-legged crouch and holding their heads low and ears stooped, fur bristles. The dusky-haired savage pointed at the creature in the clearing – a young female moose with rippling muscles, and a middle-sized young moose that must have been the offspring. The offspring was half-grown and it would still take a while before it would be able to leave its mothers side. The mother and offspring lay in the clearing, asleep.
"We go after the offspring." Moth whispered to her pack. Raphael automatically snarled at her in protest between the muzzle-clamp in protest – with a growl of her own, Moth grabbed her subordinates furry ear and yanked his head down, twisting his neck in an awkward way and making the normally proud coyote whine high in his throat. "Obey." She growled "The mother is young – she will have more babies, perhaps whenever she is larger and stronger; it would be crueler to leave the moose-ling without a mother. The offspring will feed us just fine, and he has more fat and will give us energy."
She let got of Raphael's ear; the coyote shoot his head and snorted through his nose. Moth reached into her cloak and out fell a few hunting knives – one thing that made this coyote pack especially savage and fierce, was that Moth rained them to hold the hunting knives in their jaws and use the blades instead of their fangs. It was unusual and dangerous in the animal world, for mostly humans were the only being who had the ability to use tools.
She untied the bonds from her hellhounds jaws – they opened their mouths to stretch them out; as expected, Raphael snapped at her as soon as his fangs were free, which earned him another ear-boxing. The dogs, by the command of their training, picked up the knives on the ground by the handles and the blade stuck out from the side of their jaws.
The slowly advanced on the sleeping mother and offspring, and just when their noses were hairline-close to poking out of the brush, Moth gave a loud howl of a battle-call and the pack, and their human alpha, pounced.
It was impossible for the moose-mother to get up fast enough, or her baby – Moth would distract the mother moose while her hellhounds would deal with the real prey.
As Raphael and Thug, the most bloodthirsty of the coyotes, were first to get to the offspring; the baby gave out a rather pathetic squeal as the claws and blades of the two savage coyotes tore at it and blood ran over its velvety reddish-brown fur. The other coyotes surrounded them, waiting for the kill to be over.
With a loud nay of anger, the moose-mother rose up and attempted to charge at the hellhounds that dare go after her offspring. But Moth anticipated this and already had her trust tomahawk out – she as the moose-mother were at a fierce battle, Moth would strike with her tomahawk, cutting and slashing the moose-mother. And the mother in return would throw her head up and attack with her horns but Moth would only block by turning her tomahawk.
The moose-mother stood momentarily on her hind-legs and stamped down with her front ones, but Moth was too fast and moved between the front legs and swung a hard-fist at the ribcage. The moose-mother gave a loud grunt of pain and fell on her side, breathing heavily and neighing in pain over her shattered ribs. Moth grinned; even if her hands were small and slender, they were still very strong due to the countless iron-fist training sessions she'd had in her life.
The moose-ling was dead; it gave one last shuddering breather and its body twitched in response before it fell still – permanently.
Speed, the one who respected Moth as alpha the most, bumped his head against Moths leg and tilted his head towards the moose-ling. Moth gave the moose-mother a fleeting glance and walked over to the dead offspring.
She lifted the moose-ling by the legs and threw it over/behind her head and shoulders in a firemans-carry with the legs dangling over the front of her body. She grunted a little – even when young, moose were heavy.
The savage leader, with her savage pack trotting at her heels, trekked back to the coyotes cave.
About an hour later, back at the cave, the coyotes bellies were full and their heads lay in their blood-stained paws which they still licked. Moth sat on a rock in the cave – she had managed to hack off all four of the mooselings legs. As alpha, she always had first pick at the food and had hacked off the pieces she wanted; they did not always hunt successfully, and it had been a while since any of them have had fresh meat. Moth and Master Michaelangelo had been living on only jerky and mountain plants/berries for the past several weeks, fresh meat would be a blessing.
"I go now, dogs." Moth said and tied the coyotes jaws shut again. As always, Raphael was a struggle – he growled, snarled and snapped and did not submit even when his jaws were secured.
She patted Splinter and Non-Fang, and rubbed Jumper and Hoots plump bellies before jogging back home.
"Father." Moth called, entering her stone home – she knew her father was not asleep, as she could see from the soft light emanating through the cozy cavern. "Father." She called again, hanging the moose-meat to dry and stopped when she saw her father sitting in lotus position on her sleeping mat with candles lit around him. He was meditating; and very deep in the Astral plain by the looks of it, this explained why he had not responded to his daughter calling him.
Yawning again, Moth sat beside him and breathed evenly, letting herself relax and slowly drifted away spiritually.
"Hello Moth." A being on the astral plain said to Moth through the mist – Moth smiled and hugged her spiritual companion.
"Hello, Jade!" Moth chirped to her dead friend.
Another thing to prove that Moth had the short end of the sanity stick, was that her best friend was a dead girl her father had killed when she (Jade) was a baby, and whose body he'd dumped into the Hudson river to get revenge on Karai and Leonardo.
Jade seemed to grow as Moth did – after all, they were only months apart. Jade had appeared to Moth whenever the dusky-haired savage was five and had succeeded in meditation, and at the time Jade was a little girl too. Now they were both young women.
Oroku Jade had dark hair, green eyes and light skin – she looked much like her mother Karai, at least that's what Moth believed, as that was how her father had explained to her what Karai looked like. Jade was at a constant state of apathy and had a very frail-looking build. If she wasn't a constant feature in Moths life, she would find her rather creepy.
"Okay, so today father taught me…" As she explained, she demonstrated the new martial arts moves her father had shown her that day. Unofficially, Jade was Moth's 'student', whatever Moth learned she taught to Jade.
"Tuck your fist in more, raise your arm higher and don't be so stiff." Moth corrected Jades stance and movements.
Right as their session ended, Moth felt that she was being pulled away. Moth frowned "Bye Jade. See you next night." She said to her spirit friend.
Jade looked at Moth seriously "Listen to me, my friend." Jade hissed "Danger is closing in, it had been advancing for years but now it is closer than ever, soon it will strike – much like the movements of your pack."
Before Moth, who was shocked, could respond, she was out of the astral plain.
"Moth, it is time to sleep." Master Michaelangelo said to his student – Moth blinked, her eyelids were heavy now; she hadn't even realized she was so tired.
Moth yawned "'Kay. Goodnight Father," her voice was heavy "love you."
Michaelangelo kissed the top of his daughter head affectionately "Goodnight my daughter, love you too." He said and lie on his sleeping mat.
Moth moved to her own sleeping mat, which she then sat on, and removed her cowl, boots, cuffs, necklace and gauntlets. She put her head on the dried grass-filled fur pillow and pulled her deerskin blankets over her and fell into a heavy sleep.
Today had been normal.
Neither Moth, nor Michaelangelo, expected that tomorrow would be completely different – tomorrow would be the start of hell.
And we have met Moth and older-Mikey. This is a normal day for them.
Moth is an OC I made a long time ago and use a lot, and I always want to potray her as being... Completely nuts, I cAnnot stress this enough; but she is FUCKING CRAZY! A crazy, ninja savage... Good job Mikey, and good luck Leonardo.
What happened to Venus, you ask? More explaination soon...