Author Notes: I do not own anything. Just taking them out, playing with them and putting them back. I'll try and put them back the way I found them; I promise. I did put this thing through Grammarly, so hopefully not many errors. If you see them, "these are not the errors you are looking for." ;)
In my head I was picturing 03k Turtles but honestly, they could work for 12k and maybe even Rise. Hope you enjoy!
The pitch blackness was broken by a silent whimper as the pain continued to pour in waves. Tears streamed down the little mutant turtle's face as fear began to take over, and the little turtle tried everything to quiet his racing thoughts. He had been so stupid. If he had just listened and heeded the warning of his father and brothers, he would not be in this mess in the first place. Yet now he had to figure out a way out of this, or his abrupt young life would be cut dramatically short. Using the wall to try and steady himself, he slowly pulled himself up. He slowly began to try and put his total weight down on his foot and found that would not be an option, as he let out a yelp as his leg collapsed out from under him. As more tears began to fall and he let out another cry, his senses picked up something again. He put his hand over his mouth, knowing he could not give his location any more than he already had. He started sucking in the air faster as his heart began to race, preparing him for another fight or flight. The distinct sound of footsteps slowly made its way toward his hidden location. They were being unhurried on purpose, knowing he was injured and unable to put up much of a fight. As the being moved closer, inch by inch, he then heard what sounded like claws slowly dragging across the wall. The sound of its screeching rang in his ears, making his entire soul want to jump out of its body.
Then as loud as the creature had become, it quickly became quiet, which scared him even more. Where did this thing go? Was it waiting for him to disclose his hidden location? He continued to hold on to his mouth so as not to make a sound for fear; just one little noise would alert the being that was hunting him. It may have given up. He thought way too positively. It could leave him alone, and he could go back home and apologize for leaving in the first place. He was so sorry and wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and never leave the lair again. He promised to be a good turtle and listen to his brothers and Father. He would try to be the best one anyone could ever ask for, just let this nightmare end, and he woke up safely tucked away in his bed.
When he did not wake up like he had hoped for and the being made no noise, he slowly let his hand down and let out what felt like a long breath. Then, he closed his eyes and let out a silent prayer. But then, before he could even think about what was happening, something was again grabbing him and gripping his injured leg in one gigantic grasp. He fell to his side and searched for anything to grasp onto, to try and use as a weapon as it slowly growled, pulling him towards its massive body as it bared its menacing razor-sharp teeth.
"Found you little turtle."
All he could do was scream as it dragged him further into the darkness.
(A few hours earlier)
"Focus Michelangelo."
He hated when his older brothers said this to him. It was almost on repeat out of their mouths. Though he would never admit it to anyone, it got under his skin when he was told to slow down, to focus his mind, and to try and think like them. But, of course, he didn't think like them. That was like asking his older brother Raphael to tell him not to get angry so easily and to let things go like a breeze in the wind. It was a ridiculous thing to say to him. He would never be able to focus the way Leonardo would be able to during their mock fights. He tried, but his mind often would think about the video game he wanted to finish or the comic, even the pizza with his name on it. 'Oh, sewer apples, he was doing it right now. He had lost focus, and he could see Leornado talking to him, and so was Sensei, but honestly, he wasn't even hearing what they were saying.'
If he could blush and turn red, he would have. "uhhh, I'm sorry, Sensei, I just," think of something in his mind quickly thought, "didn't sleep too good. Was tossing and turning all night."
He looked into the eyes of his father and caught the glint. 'He's not buying the excuse. Maybe think of something else!'
"Then Raph was snoring, and you know he sounds like a dump truck."
"I DO NOT!" Raphael yelled across the dojo as he stopped fighting with Donatello to declare his innocence from his younger brother, who was now accusing him of snoring. He was too young to be doing such an adult thing. So why was he being blamed and pulled into the middle of Mikey's dressing down?
For some reason, Mikey couldn't stop himself; the deeper he got, the more committed he got into the lie he was spinning. As his mouth continued, it felt like his brain had split as it resumed; he could hear himself thinking, 'SHUT UP! YOU NEED TO STOP.'
"Leonardo was talking in his sleep, so I had to hear that conversation, and Donatello started sleep walking so I had to you know, make sure he got back to his bed and then."
"Michelangelo. That is quite enough." His Sensei now crossing his arms in front of him and had a complete look of disapproval on his features. But, of course, out of all the looks he got, that was the one that killed Michelangelo inside. He never wanted to disappoint anyone. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he lost the battle.
"I can't let you continue your training until you find focus and center while practicing with your brothers. One wrong move, and you could permanently damage yourself or your brothers. Especially as we move to weapons, I don't think you are taking your training seriously enough."
This response from his father was not what Michelangelo was expecting or anticipating. He thought he would have to do a time-out or do some flips or something. But to stop practicing with his brothers. To get behind in his training. They already picked on him as the smallest and youngest, and now he would be made fun of for not being on the same level as his brothers. Or worse, what if they got to go topside someday, and he never got to go with them because he was not as good as them? Before Michelangelo could stop his brain, it started catastrophizing the worst, and he could hear the ridiculing of his brothers already. Though one side of his brain was telling him that it was ridiculous they would never do such a thing; the other side was creating the vivid nightmare he was currently living. Unfortunately, the winning side spun the racing thoughts almost too quickly for his mind to comprehend what Master Splinter was saying to him.
The sudden emotion came on strong, and he could feel the sudden tears welling up before he could even stop himself. He could feel the mask starting to get wet. He was trying so hard to keep it down; he didn't want to do this. He had to hold back; he couldn't do this again in front of them. Yet the harder he tried to hold back, the worst he felt, and the emotion was becoming too strong for him to hold back.
"Awww Mikey going to cry again." Raphael spoke with teasing in his voice and as clear as day so everyone could hear him. It sounded like he was yelling in Mikey's head.
What Mikey did not see was the stern looks from Splinter and Leonardo. Knowing that Raphael was giving tough love as he only knew how to, but for Michelangelo, that was the worst he could do at that moment in time. But, then again, Raphael was never known for his impeccable timing and sensitivity. Even Donatello gave a look and a soft swap of his hand on Raphael's shoulder to give him the indication to knock it off. This was not the time to be hassling their baby brother.
For Michelangelo, what he heard and saw were two different stories. He saw the disappointment of his father. He saw the same from Leonardo and the smirking face of Raphael, and another sad face from Donatello. 'Once again, he would never be good enough. Everyone would always be bigger, faster, smarter, stronger.' Then, feeling like the entire world was on his shoulders and the energy was too heavy for Michelangelo, he darted for the exit. He needed to breathe. He needed to find clarity. He thought he heard one of his brothers call for him, but he paid them no attention. The lair that was his home was suffocating, and he needed to get out of there before it swallowed him whole.
(Back in the Lair)
"Should we follow him, Master?" Leonardo asked, itching to follow his youngest brother, worried about what kind of trouble the younger mutant would find himself if left to his own devices.
"No, I will. I do not want you leaving home, is that understood?" His eyes looked to each of his children to ensure they understood the repercussions if they did not listen to him. His eyebrow raised, still not convinced. They all bowed.
"Aye Sensei." He nodded. He turned and left as the three turtles turned and looked at one another.
"Nice going Raph." Leonardo glared with his arms now crossed like Splinter and glaring at his red bandana brother.
"What! Oh, come on, you know he cries too much." Trying to defend what he had said.
"Yes, but he's also younger than us, you know this. Picking on him doesn't make it better just makes it that much worse Raph." Donatello spoke up hope by clarifying what Leonardo was saying, and it didn't spark a fight between the two.
Raphael was trying to see it from the perspective of any of his brothers, but he'd rather cut off one of his limbs before he cried, especially in front of his father or brothers. For his brother to openly do it in front of everyone was just something Raphael would never truly understand. In a way, Raphael saw it as an opportunity to get his younger brother to toughen up. If Mikey thought Raph was tough, there was no telling how those outside the lair would treat them. Though they loved their younger brother and his sweet nature and carefree attitude, they also felt his skin needed to toughen up just a little to survive. They were only as strong as their weakest link, and right now, it felt like Mikey was showing his cards.
"Fine! I'll go get him." Raphael grumbled under his breath as he turned.
"You heard what Master Splinter said." Leonardo dropped his arms and reached out and grabbed his brother before he could move any father. The idea of disobeying their Master was just not acceptable in Leonardo's eyes.
"I did. But I'm not Master Splinter's favorite son, so what's one more disappointing kid." Raphael said. He jerked his shoulder to get out of the grasp of Leonardo. "Besides, if anyone has a shot at finding him, it will be one of us. We know how that kid thinks….for the most part." Raphael said no more as he sprinted, leaving the two brothers trying to figure out what they would do next. Either listen to their Master or follow both their wayward brothers.
"Well, I haven't been in trouble in a while. I say let's go." Donatello said as he sprinted after Raphael. Leonardo stood there trying to figure out if he would stay or go. He so desperately wanted to listen to his Master and not leave. He HATED disobeying. His Master, their Father, had given his rules for a purpose. Yet, what kind of big brother would he be if he let them face something without him? He should be there to protect them.
"Why do I even bother?" Leonardo said to no one as he sprinted to catch up to his two younger brothers and, hopefully, their youngest.
(Somewhere in the Sewers)
Michelangelo finally stopped after what felt like an eternity as his lungs burned for air as he ran as hard as he could—not stopping until he felt like his legs would give out and he could no longer breathe. The crying had finally subsided, and he stopped moving, wanting to sit down eventually. He had blindly taken turns, left, right, left, then maybe another left somewhere. Turning and looking back from the direction he had come from, he wasn't entirely sure he could remember how to get back. However, at the moment, he didn't care. He would worry about that later. Then again, maybe it wasn't worth going home. He would just put his brothers in danger like his father had said repeatedly. By losing focus in battle or even in their fake fighting, he could get someone hurt. He tried to pay attention; he just had a thousand thoughts flying through his head at any moment.
Maybe he just had to find what made him focus, stop, and think this was the time to listen. There had to be something that would allow him to excel. If it was video games, he could beat his brothers upside and down the other. If it was something as silly as who could do the most push-ups or who could do the most hand-springs, Michelangelo was all over it. Or if it was even learning how to skateboard, he could do things his brothers couldn't even attempt. Yet, for some reason, the one thing that he should care about was the last thing he worried about, and that was taking his training as seriously as his brothers. He just didn't care. Their father never went into the necessary reason why they needed to do what they were doing. Just that the outside world was too dangerous for them, and this would give them an advantage that no one would have or see coming. But for what? Why would they want to hurt them? They were just kids!
Mikey kicked a rock that had somehow found its way down to the sewers, and he could hear it skipping down the sewer as he put his shell to the back of the wall and slid down. He brought up his knees, gasped his hands together, and put his head down, trying to find a way to center his thoughts. As he sat there, he then realized he had heard something. 'What was it?' He brought his head up to listen. It sounded like someone was coming his way. 'Great, now he was really going to get a talking too.'
"Master Splinter, I'm sorry I ran off." Mikey spoke; he could almost feel the tears springing back into his eyes. He clenched his fingers hard, telling himself to stop. But what drew his attention away from his emotions was Master Splinter; his loving father never responded. Instead, the rock he had kicked earlier flew back down the tunnel and landed near him. Michelangelo confusedly looked at it and then back down the tunnel. He didn't see anything. He demanded his eyes to see past the tunnel's darkness, but nothing registered as movement or another being.
"Raphael?" For some reason, his instincts were starting to tell him to run. But why? He should be safe down here, right?
"Come on guys, this isn't funny. Jump out and scare me already."
The natural animal instinct coursing through his veins made him stand up. Ready to move if need be.
He slowly stepped towards where the rock came from. "Guys? Seriously, could you just come out already?" He took another step. "Please." The last part of the word softly dying on his lips.
Michelangelo continued staring down the tunnel, and then he saw it. He took a few steps towards it but realized something was wrong. The movement was all wrong. It did not move as though it was his father or like his brothers. No, it moved like a predator that was stalking its prey. It moved significantly larger than anything he had seen or faced. 'STOP.' Mikey's mind screamed. Subconsciously Michelangelo stopped moving and now had started to take a step back.
"Hi, don't be scared. I'm just lost down here. Can you help me?" The voice came out almost childlike. The being finally talked but stopped moving toward the turtle.
The orange-wearing turtle wasn't sure why he didn't believe this stranger, but everything in him told him to ignore this thing and run back to the lair. Do not listen to it. Yet, for some reason, against all instincts, Michelangelo wanted to help this creature or human, maybe? What if they were lost, and he just allowed his mind to play games? He did watch a horror movie not too long ago, even though Master Splinter had told him not to. He just loved getting scared by TV. This was something entirely and utterly different. He was not much of a fan of this so far.
"I can help you. Where are you from?"
"Well, I'm not from around here that's for sure. You know, I can tell you are the sweetest person Michelangelo."
RED FLAGS, RED FLAGS. Michelangelo felt his gut drop hard. He could hear the quiver in his voice.
"Ho…how did you…know my name?" Taking a few steps backward, trying to put more space between him and whatever this thing was staring back at him.
"Lucky guess?" The thing innocently said, taking a few steps forward.
"Yeah, umm I think I hear my father calling. I don't think I can help you after all. Just go back the way you came, there should be a manhole you can climb out of. Have a great day."
Michelangelo could hear his father as clear as day as he about turned and started walking away, making sure not to turn his back but to start stepping backward. 'Never turn your back on a supposed enemy. Keep them in sight at all times. Be ready for any attack from any side at any time.'
"Yes, but I've been looking for something like you for a long time….and you are exactly what I need I promise not to hurt you. Please…don't go."
As Michelangelo turned to start sprinting, he heard a growl come from the dark. Now in fight or flight mode, the turtle picked flight as the first option. He turned and started sprinting as fast as he could, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He could hear it gaining on him at remarkable speeds. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest at the thought of this thing grabbing him. As he rounded a corner, he felt it breeze past as it wasn't ready to make such a quick direction change. Finally, he gained traction and sprinted ahead. He was going to lose it. That's until he came to dead in.
"Oh god, Oh God." Michelangelo started looking around. There was nowhere for him to go but back the way the beast was. It was standing there, blocking his path. FOCUS! He had to get past this thing. He had to find a way to best it and not allow it to grab him. What was the one thing it probably would never expect a mutant turtle to do?
Then with determination, Michelangelo started sprinting toward it. Without allowing his mind to think of the consequences if this should fail, he started twisting into a hand-spring backflip, and when he felt his arms about to give out, he pushed harder to use the momentum to spring over its head and land behind it. Giving a chuckle and a quick salute Michelangelo started to sprint. His eyes darted when he saw what was either an access tunnel with a grate. Deciding this was his best bet, he stopped but realized, to his horror, it was stuck, and he wasn't strong enough to pull. He could hear the thing starting to close the distance. It was going to be on him any second. As he pulled with all his might, he let out a scream as he used his fear and adrenaline to pull the grate off, as it finally came down on top of him. Scrambling out from under it, he dove for the small access tunnel, but not before it got hold of his foot. It pulled hard, bringing half his body out. He then grabbed hold of the wall and held on for dear life.
"LET GO OF ME."
"YOUR MINE!" It screamed back at him, and then he saw the claws on it as it dragged it down his thigh, splitting a huge gash into his inner leg. Blood started pooling quickly. With panic now and pain Michelangelo used his one good foot and kicked as hard as he could with as much force. A grunt came from the monster as it let him go and stumbled backward from the blow. Michelangelo dropped to the ground hard. He then used his forearms to crawl back to the access hatch and didn't stop crawling for fear it would follow him.
Splinter raced quickly, trying to track his youngest son, who had done a remarkable job throwing him off his wake. Unfortunately, the rat realized this too late after he had made his last turn and found the trail he had been trailing this entire time go cold. Turning around, he made his way back to try and locate where he thought Michelangelo gave him the slip. Splinter realized he could go right or left as he came to a tunnel. He stood there trying to think, 'what would Michelangelo do?' But, trying to think like his son was shown to be a difficult task for the rat.
All four of his boys were unique and special in their own way, but Michelangelo indeed saw the world in a different light than his older brothers. It made him the wild card and truly unpredictable in a fight, yet it seemed that only Splinter was able to see this. He didn't know how to make his youngest focus. It wasn't Michelangelo's fault, but he was failing his son as a teacher. When the child can't learn the way the others are learning, it may be time to adjust fire and switch tactics. As Splinter mused this within, he then decided to pick a tunnel. Once he had Michelangelo safely back home, he would mediate more on this. Splinter would have to think carefully to help his youngest son find his focus and get through to him differently. But the most important was still at hand: locating his youngest. So extensively focused on the task at hand, Splinter never even heard the three turtles coming up the rear, also coming to the intersection that had stopped Splinter dead in his tracks.
"So, which way do we go now?" Donatello asked, his eyes calculating, trying to determine the best course of action.
"I don't know. What do you think, Leo?" Raphael asked out loud, and both looked at the oldest turtle with his arms now crossed and gave an annoyed look.
"You two were the ones that wanted to go in the first place! So why do I have to be the one that picks?" Leonardo asked, his voice hitching and coming out much whinner than he intended.
"Because you're the oldest." Raphael gave a slight smirk.
"That's not a good enough answer, but, I think Master Splinter went right. I say we go left. Because…," trying to think of a good reason why they shouldn't just follow their Master, "whatever you think Mikey went, he probably did the opposite because that's just how Mikey thinks." Leonardo wasn't sure if that made sense, but it seemed to satisfy his two younger brothers. Raphael set off, with Donatello following in the middle and Leonardo bringing up the rear. Leonardo hoped they found their younger brother soon, and he didn't like how far they were getting from their lair.
Michelangelo didn't know how long he kept moving until his body collapsed. He is no longer able to sustain his weight. He wondered how much blood had poured out of the wound. What was Master Splinter constantly drilling into their heads regarding injuries, especially if they were free-flowing and looked deep?
'Think,' he smacked his head. It reminded him of an old war movie he caught before his father turned it off, saying it was too violent. However, he found it ironic as they were being raised on the art of ninjutsu.
In the movie, though, a soldier had a gunshot wound and used something to wrap it tightly to stop the flow. Michelangelo quickly untied his orange mask from his head, ripped an excellent strip, and tied his leg. He closed his eyes, foreknowing the misery that was about to hit, and stopped the flow of blood with one good pull, but the pain that shot from his leg made him want to scream. Mikey started breathing heavily through his nose as he cried in silence as tears escaped his eyes from the pain of stopping the blood from seeping out. He leaned back so his shell was against the wall and lay his head against the wall as he allowed the pain to ride through but desperately held onto his scream so as not to give out his location to whatever was hunting him. He clenched his three fingers into his palms as hard as he could, almost turning his green skin white from the pressure. Once the pain subsided enough for him to think again, he realized he had not heard from the beast that had started terrorizing him. How close was he to the lair? Could he call for his brothers and Father for help? Risk bringing this creature down on their heads. 'No.'
A voice far from where he was hiding almost sounded like a young child speaking out.
"Come out….come out…little turtle. I just wanted to play. Don't you love to play Mikey….come on. If not, I'll see if your brothers want to play."
Michaelangelo hated when this creature said his name. It was like nails screeching across the brick wall of their lair. It felt so unnerving that whatever this thing was, it knew his name. Did it know his brother's names as well? Then again, how did it know he had brothers? How long had this thing been stalking him? He had so many questions, but he could go an entire lifetime without knowing it. Using the wall to get up, he tried not to put as much pressure on his leg and used the wall to steady himself. He slowly started moving again, picking a direction and hoping it was the right way.
"I hear you trying to leave me. I'm on my way…."
Michelangelo had heard enough of this monster. He let go of the wall, put full pressure on his leg, and tried to run.
He had to suppress deeply into his chest a yell as his leg screamed in protest at him. Michelangelo distinctly heard something splashing some sewage water, which was not far from his location. Dipping into one of the storm drains, he tried to quiet himself down, hoping maybe the thing was lying and did not know where he was and just hoping he would give up his location willingly like a cat playing with a mouse.
He started thinking and praying, 'I promise I will take my training seriously. I promise I will focus so I can use weapons. I promise, I promise. Just don't let me die. Not like this.'
As he caught sounds of what he thought was the monster, Mikey realized he caught the whiff of something beyond foul. Living in the sewers was not like a bed of roses, but they all got used to the different smells. But this, however, was something much worse. This smelled like death had wormed into the space next to him and was breathing on him. He then could feel his heart beating faster as he realized something had inched up without him knowing and was right beside him. He slowly moved his head and turned towards the blackness, straining to see whatever was next to him.
He heard the growl and realized it was too late. He tried to propel his body to jump away, but the thing grabbed him in its massive grasp.
"Found you turtle."
He tried to grab onto the tunnel's edge and hold on for dear life, but whatever this thing was, it was a hell of a lot stronger. It ripped him away from his salvation and pulled him deeper into the darkness dragging him along. The only thing he could do at that moment was to scream in terror.
(Two different locations)
Both Master Splinter and the three other turtles turned and looked around. They both had heard Michelangelo's scream. Master Splinter realized he had been going the wrong way this entire time and bolted to go back in the direction he had come running at full speed. "My son!"
The three mutant turtles took one glance at each other, and both called out their younger brother's name. "MIKEY!" Without hesitation, they charged forward, realizing they had been close to his scream.
They found Michelangelo being dragged down the tunnel as he continued to scream and thrash and kick as if his life depended on it, which currently it was. The nightmare that had Michelangelo in its grasp continued dragging him like a rag doll.
Michelangelo was in a blind panic until the chaos that was his mind came into focus with a snap. He knew this drill. Master Splinter had taught him so many times. One of the most powerful things on a Ninja was their own body, and they were the weapon.
Someone is dragging you to use their momentum against them. Planting his good foot under him and his hands underneath him, he spun off the ground, swung his leg up hard, and kicked for all he was worth. Whatever that held him was not expecting such a devastating blow. It also did not expect three brothers to come in from behind and all three doing a jumping kick. The being lost its bearing and teetered backward as it tried to find something to grab onto it. It could not stop its momentum as it fell into a storm drain. Michelangelo lay there trying to decide if he should see if it had survived the fall or crawl toward his brothers. His brothers made a choice for him and ran towards them and started checking him.
Leonardo let Donatello and Raphael see over Michelangelo while he took a glance over the colossal storm drain that went God only knows where to see what had happened to the monster. Satisfied, he didn't see whatever the beast was nowhere to be seen, he dropped down to his knees alongside his brothers.
"Are you okay Mikey?"
"I think so. Just got me good but I'm okay bros."
"My son!"
All four turtles turned to see Splinter standing there. Michelangelo got up from where he had been hobbled and slammed into his father. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't ever do that again. I will never leave again, I promise, I promise." Michelangelo had kept it together for his brothers, but for his father was a whole other story. Splinter put his hand on the turtle's head and looked to his other three sons for a report of what had transpired, but they looked as lost as him. He gave a soft smile, thankful his boys were okay.
"Let's go home my sons."
Without hesitation, he picked up Michelangelo into his arms and carried him the rest of the way as the three boys followed closely behind. Neither one of them looked back for fear of what they may see looking back at them as they made their way back home.
(A few days later)
It had taken Michelangelo some time to recover from his harrowing events. Whatever the thing was, Michelangelo refused to talk about it. He would wake up screaming a few times, and one of the brothers would comfort him and soothe him back to sleep. He would smile or play it off and sidestep the question when they tried to ask. He also never explained how it had injured him so severely. Yet soon, things became routine in the lair again, and Michelangelo's leg fully recovered. He could start training again if Master Splinter so desired it. It was the day they were going to be given their weapons. Or at least the three of his brothers.
As Splinter had gone through why he picked the weapons for each son, he stopped at Michelangelo, who half expected not to get his weapons due to their last conversation about him being unable to focus.
"For you Michelangelo I give you the nunchakus."
Michelangelo's eyes went from disappointment to complete shock to excitement as he took them from Splinter's hands, who held them out to him.
"I get to train with weapons?" Trying to hide his excitement and shock, he tested out their weight of them. He slowly moved them around in his hands.
"Do you know why I picked these for you Michelangelo?"
"Because you think Bruce Lee is awesome and one of us has to have them?" He asked innocently.
Splinter smiled. Humor, always the humor his youngest always showed. "No, because it requires," before he could finish, Michelangelo smiled and beat him to the punch, "focus."
"Yes, my son. If not, the weapon itself will bite back as hard as any other weapon. If you do not respect it and give it your full attention it will punish you harder, more so than I ever could. Learn to master it Michelangelo and there is nothing you can't do."
"Aye Sensei."
Master Splinter smiled as he watched his youngest move to go to the dojo's side and spin the nunchucks around too widely.
WAP! The sound of the nunchucks hitting Michelangelo in the head as he spun it greedily around as though he had already mastered the technique.
"OWWWWEEE!" The youngest yelled, but after getting over the initial shock, he started going right back at it. Focusing on the intent of swinging the weapons freely. For the first time, it seemed the wild child, the unfocused one whose brain would wander at the drop of a hat, was now training like his brothers, hyper-focused on wielding the chaotic weapon.
As Master Splinter sat and watched his boys practice, he could not be prouder of each of them, and as his eyes landed on his youngest, he couldn't help but think, 'Yes. Michelangelo. You have found your focus finally, and I couldn't be prouder of you. I can't wait to see what type of potential you will have.'
~Finis~
End Notes: Well, this story turned a bit while I was writing it. I initially just wanted to write a story about Mikey being hunted. Just another shot at writing horror. Somehow it turned into him getting his weapon for the first time. I love the theory that floats around in why they have their chosen weapons, it just makes sense. Anyhew, I've been writing fanfic for quite a few years now. My first love was always TMNT however I never really had a desire to write for it. I saw the trailer for the new movie coming and I just kind of fell back in love and caught up with the 12 series and even Rise (ended up loving the movie). My heart still somewhat belongs to the original 87/90s movie and the 2003 series.
I want more turtle tots they are so dang adorable and just wish we had an entire season of them and their little adventures. For the monster, I kind of just pictured Pennywise. I wish I had more ideas to write more stories, but guess will see when the muse strikes again. Till then, later yo!