I'm back! Months later then I should be, but you know, life. Sorry about that!
I don't own the turtles.
3. Making History
The dream of every scientist was to do something that would change the world. Most of the time, the change would be positive, a cure for some new disease, a way to make the world run smoother. A common spy movie trope included someone trying to cause havoc, doing anything they can to change the world for what they considered better.
Donnie was no different from any human scientist. Ever since he was a child, he dreamed of doing something important, of being known, not for his appearance, but for his mind. He knew it wouldn't happen. In what world could anyone see past his terrapin qualities to see his inventions?
He remembered mentioning his dream to his brothers once. They scoffed, brushing every hope he had aside and stomping them into the ground. "You're a freak! No one is going to care about you! Stop dreaming and focus on something important!" Not the best thing to say to a seven year old, by far the least motivational, but it taught him something: Never bring up your ideas around others. If you do, you're asking for a reality check, and that wasn't something he cared to get.
His hopes were dampened some, but he still daydreamed. Even now, when his entire life was telling him to give up, he would sit on the rooftops and watch the lights, imagining the world with some of the things he had made.
He could do it. He could become an anonymous inventor, refusing meetings, never showing his face, but becoming a CEO of his own inventions. He'd read stories of other people doing it, and frankly, he didn't know what was stopping him. He didn't even have to tell his brothers, or anyone, for that matter. He wouldn't even need payment for it. What would he be spending the money on, anyway?
This was another thing he thought about. He spent hours above the streets, a small smile on his face as he faded into a new world, one where he wasn't worrying about his priorities, a world where he got to do what he wanted, a world where he was famous for all the right reasons.
And then he'd snap back into reality, blinking away a haze and sighing as he remembered. That was a fantasy, nothing real. He had things to do here, things that he would never be famous for. Humans weren't even supposed to know about mutagen, so why would they need a way to reverse it?
That was another thing. He stayed up all night, missed meals, worked his shell off on things no one cared about. He devoted his entire life to his inventions, and while at first, he had done that solely for fun, he had started to want recognition. He wasn't asking for a Nobel Prize, but it would be nice if someone else knew about how hard he worked and at least appreciated it.
His phone buzzed, but he kept his eyes on the moon for a moment longer. The message would be from one of his brothers, telling him to come back, that it was getting late.
He wasn't going to be famous. He would die a nobody, someone who never accomplished anything. He had resolved himself to the simple truth that he would never make history.
That didn't mean he was going to stop dreaming, though.