Shell Shocked
Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT
Chapter 4: Galizia and the Four Turtles
Mutant Girl's POV
I sat on my knees, watching the boys train in the dojo while Splinter observed. It has been three months since the turtles and Master Splinter found me. They could have turned the other cheek, but instead, they let me live here in their lair as one of them. At first, things were complicated, for example, being the only girl in a house full of boys. I kept some distance initially, wanting privacy, but young Michelangelo is hard to refuse.
In fact, the boys are fun to hang around with. All four are thirteen years old, although it's hard to believe that from their height. But their personality is that of a thirteen-year-old. Even with me being fifteen, it hardly changed anything. Although Splinter believes the boys were born around the same time, there was a divide. The oldest and the youngest. The oldest was Leonardo and Raphael. Leonardo is presumed the oldest of the four. Personality, Leonardo took the role of leader. Taking the burden of his brothers, he becomes a true older brother for Michelangelo and Donatello, doing it with a smile. Next, there is Raphael, who holds a lot of anger. Raph doesn't like to live second best and works harder to prove himself in front of Splinter. Then there are the youngest, Donatello and Michelangelo. Donatello is a shy but intelligent brother who enjoys tinkering and improving things. And finally, the group's jokester, Michelangelo, loves playing video games and skateboarding. When he isn't training, he is the heart of the team.
It took me a while to separate the brothers, quickly picking Michelangelo and Donatello out because of their different heights, if not Donatello wearing glasses. As for Raphael and Leonardo, it was difficult when they were silent around me, to the point I forgot who was who. So, I go by their weapons. Leonardo possesses the katana, Raphael with the twin sais, Donatello has the bo staff, and Michelangelo is master of the nun-chucks . . . sorta. The youngest occasionally smacks himself in the face, time and again.
Also, I got over my rat phobia when being around Master Splinter. All right, I lied. When I see a rat or mouse, I jumped up, screaming. Master Splinter is the only exception of not freaking out like an elephant. He is the father with only a handful of humorous moments in his role, but he is stern, serious, and wise. And a loyal sensei.
The first few weeks staying here were spent on recovery and watching the boys train. Although my wounds healed within a week, Master Splinter believes it was the mutagen. But he advised me not to talk about it with the boys. The turtles were slowly learning about themselves, and he didn't want to have it interfere with their training. I complied.
Master Splinter started my training with the basics. In other words, taijutsu. I must learn how to fight physically without an extension. How to fight an opponent with my body alone. Once Master Splinter believes I'm ready, I shall know how to use a weapon.
But that isn't the only thing that happened. During the first month, I was nameless, for Splinter thought my memory of my name shall return in time. So, if anybody wants my attention, they must approach me or call me girl. It was getting irritating with no memories returning, let alone Raphael calling me girl. Therefore, I went to Master Splinter to give me a name.
"Master Splinter, I'm sick and tired of waiting," I told him in his room. "There has been no improvement in my memories."
"A Ronin, you are," Master Splinter murmured. "A Samurai without a cause."
I sighed, sitting down, "I feel like a nobody without a name."
Suddenly the boys barged in with a smile on their faces. As Michelangelo spoke out, "We can name you."
"Now I'm afraid," I murmured to Splinter.
Master Splinter gave a smile.
"C'mon, how hard is it to choose a name?" Leonardo said.
"Yeah, since it's quite troubling not calling you by something." Donatello agreed, to which Raphael nodded.
"Fine, but it can't be a comic book name," I told them.
Instantly Michelangelo's face dropped. Guess his choice of names was from his favorite comic books. We spent an hour going over the choice of names. This would be a disaster, as if I were some pet. The names go from Cammy, Kassumi, Kitana, Chun Li, Jade, Clementine, Rayne, etc. Apparently, video games were not excluded from these boys.
It wasn't until Master Splinter set a book down. From the cover, it read Painters of the Renaissance. He scrolls through the pages looking up female artists of that time period. "How about Galizia?"
"Sounds like a tongue twister," Michelangelo whined. "What's wrong with Kitana? It rhymes with katana."
"Dude, that's not right," Leonardo said, shaking his head.
"Galizia," I repeated. "I kinda like it."
"Awe, man," Michelangelo whined.
We all laughed at Michelangelo's protest before Splinter confirmed Galizia would be my official name. After the boys returned to training, I borrowed Splinter's book, reading who Galizia was during her time. From what I could read, Fede Galizia was an Italian female artist well known for still life, from the Renaissance to Baroque. She was a protégé to her father, as people commissioned her for religious artworks. However, her talents have been more towards still life. One of her well-known paintings translated is Judith with the Head of Holofernes and Peaches in a pierced white faience basket. I admired the amount of detail she put in, making the objects so realistic that you just want to eat the fruit.
It is an honor to be named after her.
In the following months came winter. Those were a struggle, as my body did not adapt well to the cold. There are days I'm lethargic, barely moving around while staying in warm locations in the lair. Master Splinter tried to find me some clothes to keep warm, but it wasn't enough. When the holidays came, they celebrated Christmas differently. It was more of watching Christmas movies, but I tried to make them gifts I found. One memory I have is drawing.
I am still determining where it came from. I sat beside Michelangelo, messing with his art kit, asking me to join him. I did and zoned out. Donatello appeared, startling me, as he complimented my drawing of Mikey. Everyone was impressed that Michelangelo even framed it.
Therefore, for the holidays, I drew everyone. The boys loved their drawings. Even they had gifts for me. Leo gave me a leather strap with weaving to create an intricate design, saying it was for my hair. Raphael had knitted me a sweater in dark shades of pink, which I wore throughout winter. Donatello tinkers with a heater that will provide more heat in my room. Michelangelo provided me with a case of Orange Soda when he learned it was my favorite flavor too. As for Master Splinter, he surprised me when he gave me a paper artwork he found in Chinatown of a Dragon, stating it shall scare negative energy away.
I was in tears, and I hugged all of them. Even though it had been barely two months, they had welcomed me as their own.
Anyway, here I am, watching the turtles train by sparing. Leonardo was fighting against Michelangelo while Donatello spared against Raphael. Splinter stood there holding his staff, observing. I also watched, memorizing all their moves for future use.
Michelangelo threw a shuriken at Leonardo, who luckily dodged it and afterward used his katana to block the next shuriken. The oldest brother started swinging his swords at the youngest. Quickly Michelangelo sunk into his shell, rolling away while Leonardo strikes at him. At first, it seemed a unique defense until Michelangelo jumped out, doing a break dance on the floor, making an annoying sound.
"Come on, Mikey, focus," Leonardo scolded.
He charged forwards joining his katanas, creating a spear swing fluently at Michelangelo. However, Michelangelo dodged all the attacks with ease. When an opening revealed itself, the small turtle got up, smacking the oldest in the face. A growl rumbled from Leonardo as he did a spun kick, kicking Michelangelo in the arm, causing him to fall.
"Ow, dude," Michelangelo protested, sitting on the ground and rubbing his injured arm.
"Sorry, I didn't-"Leonardo started, only to get a water balloon in the face.
Instantly Michelangelo got up, dancing around his brother, "Ah yeah, dude. Never underestimate the power of the water balloon arm."
Leonardo stood there watching his brother in shock before shaking his head. I chuckled at such childish behavior of Michelangelo. No matter what the situation is, he has the tendency to pull a joke. Even if it gets on his brother's nerves. Although, when a prank is pulled, the young turtle better run like a jackrabbit. Otherwise, he's in for a beating. And just like that, Leonardo charged at his brother, tackling him to the ground. The brawl continued as the two tossed around, accidentally tripping Donatello. Raphael stood there watching this amused before giving a shrug, tossing his sais aside, then joining in the fight.
"I find it hard to believe training is always like this." I chuckled.
Splinter shook his head before giving the command. "Yame!"
Immediately the boys topped all in a bow position. I sat there amazed at how quickly they followed Master Splinter's command. Sensei walked over to them with a severe look. "My sons, now is not the time to be foolish. Sooner or later, you all shall be in a situation where a water balloon won't defend you."
"Yes, Sensei," All four boys said in unison.
"Now back flips fifty times," Splinter ordered.
All four turtles got up, grumbling as they walked to the wall. They took a few steps back before running to the wall, jumping up to walk alongside it, and then backflipping to land on their feet. After each flip, they called out how many times they did it. I chuckled quietly, feeling sorry for the poor turtles.
"Galizia," Splinter called out.
"Yes," I replied.
"Let's begin your training." He said.
I nodded, got up, and went center of the mat, starting with some stretches. My training to be a kunoichi starts off with taijutsu, unarmed combat. Every lesson started with drills. I got into position standing in front of Master Splinter, legs spread out with my right leg in front while my left was in the back. Arms at the ready, starting with the back fist: I had to punch forward, flicking my wrist fast, creating a fast motion from chest to an imaginary opponent. Doing both, I get into a reverse punch, turning my hips, then punching. And I continue with all the different types of punches. If I make a mistake, Master Splinter would point it out, correct my form and tell me to start over. For two months, I've been learning the drills and forms.
Sometimes Michelangelo would accompany in this training, except his attention was elsewhere. Let me tell you, the boy likes to flirt.
"Galizia, high kicks," Splinter commanded.
Taking in his orders, I adjusted my body and started doing specific kicks. Master Splinter attached a Ping-Pong paddle to his staff, lifting it into the air. That was my target as I focused my aim on the direction of the paddle, attempting to make a good kick. There is no such thing as perfection. Master Splinter said one thrives for the perfection of his or her choosing. You may have made an excellent move, but it shall always be challenging.
I finished my drills an hour later, practically exhausted and ready to nap. But Master Splinter had another idea. He wasn't kidding that training would be draining at all levels. Even the boys got used to the intense schedule to continue without breaking a sweat.
"Excellent," Splinter complimented. "You are ready for the next step."
"Huh?" I panted.
"Donatello," Sensei called out. "Come here."
Donatello got up from his spot, walking over, slightly confused. He was the tallest of the brothers, though several inches shorter than me. Oh, guess it is time to spare. Donatello adjusted his glasses before we bowed in a sign of respect, then got into position.
"Begin," Splinter said.
.o0o.
"Ow," I mumbled, lying on the ground with Donatello holding my arm.
Donatello flipped me over his shoulder and pinned my arm behind my back. For a turtle, he is strong. I've noticed that he is stronger than I imagined in the fight. Every blow I tried to weaken him seemed absorbed through his leathery skin. Seeing that I was fast on reflexes, except he has the strength.
"That will be all for today," Splinter said, leaving the dojo.
"You alright, Zia?" Donatello asked, letting go of my arm.
"Fine," I answered, lying there. "Nice grip."
The tall turtle smiled, helping me up before walking towards his brothers. I'll compliment his success in winning the match. I smiled at them as I turned around to rest in my room.
"Hey Zia, you want to hang out with us?" Leonardo asked.
"You want me to join ya?" I replied.
"Yeah, you're one of us," Michelangelo said. "Why chill in your room when you can hang out with us."
I thought about it, "Alright."
Michelangelo cheered with a fist pump walking over and dragging my arm to lead the way. We ended up in the den facing the large televisions on Pizza Hut's boxes makeshift couch. Raphael went over to the TV, looking through the small collections of DVDs.
"So, what's it gonna be, Matrix, Live Free and Die Hard, or 007?" Raphael asked.
"The names James, James Bond." Michelangelo imitated.
I chuckled as the boys argued between Die Hard and Casino Royal. It became a tie that I had to be the breaker voting for some James Bond. We sat there watching the movie with some laughs, commentaries, and quoting the film. Once the film was over, we sat there in silence.
"So Zia, you never told us what it's like up there," Michelangelo said out of the blue.
"Mikey," Leonardo interrupted.
"No, it's fine, Leonardo." I sighed. "Sooner or later, the truth comes out."
"So what can you tell us?" Donatello asked.
I adjusted on the couch, "Well, my memories are a bit vague, but I remember living outside the city or spending time in another state."
"Where?" Donatello asked.
"I remember vast lands of agriculture farms, with crops rotating with corn, beans, and hay. In the car, it was practically an optical illusion in never knowing when the turn begins or it goes straight, stomach-lurching on sudden hills, the smell of cut grass. Occasionally riding horses now and then." I said in a daze.
"Wow, so you were a cowgirl," Michelangelo suggested.
"I doubt it," I chuckled. "Maybe I had family in the countryside?"
The boys nodded before Leonardo switched the DVD to the television. Raphael got up, heading towards the main exit. The boys cannot go through the one entry without Master Splinter's approval. Leonardo saw this as he ran over quickly, blocking the entrance.
"Where do ya think you're going?" he asked.
"To the Scrapyard," Raphael answered.
"Why?" Leonardo asked again.
"Cause I want to find more junk." The second oldest brother grumbled. "C'mon Leo, stop being a goody little two-shoes and get outta my way."
"Yeah, the Junkyard hould have new shipments. Maybe we can find some computers." Donatello agreed.
"Or comics," Michelangelo added.
"But Master Splinter said-"Leonardo started.
"You may go with a chaperone." Master Splinter announced, behind me out of nowhere.
I jumped at his sudden appearance and placed a hand over my chess. Damn, I didn't hear him approach, and the rodent got to me. Since living here, I could easily hear the boys, but not Master Splinter. Splinter stood there watching his sons with a neutral face.
"So, you're comin' too?" Michelangelo asked.
"No, but Galizia will." Splinter answered.
Oh, come on, why am I being drafted to babysitter, I thought bitterly.
Before I could object, Splinter gave me a serious expression. Those dark glossy eyes gave a threat. In other words, the Hashi. You want to avoid going to the Hashi. I never got in trouble, but I've seen the boys get in trouble for extensive punishment. A difficult obstacle that Master Splinter comes up with, most involving standing still or in one place while doing an activity that is subjective to focus and concentration. For example, you are stuck on a handstand while juggling with your feet. Not wanting to go to the Hashi, I got up.
"Alright, let's get scavenging," I chirped.
"Yes!" some of the guys cheered.
Master Splinter nodded in approval as he returned to his room. With nothing else to say, we gather our gear before taking the route toward the junkyard. A makeshift cart on the track was empty and covered in graffiti, if not outdated. Donatello said the abandoned train cart was left behind either during the change of the subway system or something along those terms. Nothing better to do than the intelligent turtle hot wire the cart before we started riding towards the dump.
.o0o.
We waited for the guards to leave the site late in the night. Checking my watch, it read 11:30 pm, and Raphael went ahead to see if the coast was clear. He had been gone for ten minutes, and I started to worry that something had happened to him. The last thing Splinter wants is for his son to be caught by humans. Hopefully, with this late February weather, the night shift workers would be inside. My nerves settled down when he ran towards the manhole cover.
"Coast is clear," Raphael announced.
"Good," Leonardo said, climbing out of the tunnel, followed by Michelangelo and Donatello.
I climbed up afterward, then my nose cringed at the stench of rust. Well, look on the bright side Galizia. It's not a landfill. Just junk; a whole lot of junk. Shaking my head, I kept on high alert as the boys split into two groups. Leonardo went with Donatello to the technology section while Raphael and Michelangelo explored the cars. I, on the other hand, followed the group that was most likely to get in trouble.
"So, what are you guys looking for?" I asked.
"Don't know," Michelangelo answered. "See if anybody left some cool stuff in their cars. Maybe a Wii system. I always wanted to play it."
"Doubt it," Raphael muttered.
"C'mon, Raph," the youngest whined slightly.
"Maybe Mikey," I said. "You never know. So let's get busting."
"Took the words out of my mouth," Raphael chirped, pulling a crowbar from his satchel.
I chuckled as I took mine, looking into damaged cars in search of items of interest. Quietly we searched, shimmy crowbars, and gathered interesting things. The two boys were focused on muscle cars; meanwhile, I explored chick cars, hoping to find either bags or feminine items to use. Really, I was hoping for bags filled with clothes I could use. Just banging the crowbars against the trunk, jamming it open for anything of use. It was when one beat-up BMW to find a duffle bag in the trunk. God, it stinks, but opening the bag to find some girl clothes, shoes, cheap jewelry, and cosmetics. Guess somebody up there is lending a hand.
I zipped the duffel bag and flung it on my back like a backpack. The weight hardly weighed anything as I continued to search around the cars. I walked over to Raphael and Michelangelo in some pile. Raphael seemed to find something interesting as he tossed, shoved, and pushed debris aside. Michelangelo, on the other hand, appeared to have been setting a pile of metal plates. As I got closer, I realized those were metal plates but weights.
"Found something?" I asked.
"Yeah, an actual gym," Raphael answered.
I walked over to find several dumbbells, bars, benches, and other stuff. It must be from some gym that either updated or revoked its equipment, with nobody claiming them. Thinking about it, this equipment might be useful. I set aside my things and helped Raphael collect the gym equipment.
Leonardo and Donatello arrived shortly after with a grocery cart filled with electrical devices. They paused to see dozens of weight sets. All the weights, bars, collars, and benches. The boys whistle in excitement, helping out their brothers retrieve the equipment. I smiled at the boys' elation. Pilling all the gear onto other carts, then pushing them to the manhole.
"We hit the jackpot!" Michelangelo cheered. "I can't wait to try out these weights."
"Yeah, and get some meat on 'em bones." Raphael teased.
"Hey, whatcha saying?" Michelangelo asked.
"I'm saying you're fubsy," Raphael replied.
"What, me?" he said, posing his arms. "Take a look at these bad boys."
Donatello came over, poking at the dangled fat under the youngest brother's arm. "Yeah, purely muscles."
"C'mon, let's get back before we get spotted," Leonardo said.
"HEY YOU!" A rough masculine voice shouted out.
Instantly we turned around to see a security guard standing at the end of the aisle, holding a flashlight in one hand while holding a leash to a rottweiler.
Oh shit, this is not gonna be good, I thought.
Immediately we turned around and ran without tails between our legs for the manhole. We ran as fast as we could, hearing the rottweiler right behind us.
Damn, damn, damn, gotta run fast.
Luckily, we made it to the manhole before Killer came over for a bite of turtle soup and lizard on a stick. In the darkness, Donatello turned on his flashlight.
"That was close," he chirped.
"Ya think?" I panted.
"Hey, look on the bright side," Michelangelo said. "We found some cool stuff."
I slumped on the ground, shaking my head. These boys are going to be the death of me.
So, what do you all think? I put in a bit of the TMNT 2012 in this chapter. Can you find it?
Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!
Updated