Chapter One
As far as any New Yorker could tell, it was a beautiful day. The sun shone above their heads without any clouds blocking its brilliant rays. Time was plentiful for the police. But, most of all, the temperature was impeccable.
Unfortunately, a citizen who lived below ground couldn't agree. His name was Donatello. Donatello was far from normal. He doesn't have a last name, but even more, he wasn't human. He was what you call a teenage mutant ninja turtle.
Donatello's brother, Raphael, was training with him. From a distance, their sensei Splinter was watching. Donatello, at that point, was playing defense.
"Raphael, move faster!" Splinter informed Raph. Raphael grunted in acknowledgement, and then swung his fist at Don't head. His knuckles connected with nothing. Frustrated, Raph tried again, but Don danced out of his way.
"Concentrate, Raphael," Splinter shouted.
With mounting annoyance, Raphael howled and kick out at his brother with all his might. He only succeeded at falling down when Donatello pushed off his back. While on the ground, Raph saw a tool, instict told him which could be used to his advantage. Forgetting to think, he picked up a metal bar and swung it at his brother's head. Don saw it coming, gaped at it, and tried to block the heavy object with his forearms. His reaction was a fraction too slow.
The mass and momentum of the bar carried it into Don't wrist and into the side of his head. Don's head was forced backward, taking his body with it. Donatello fell in a heap o the floor.
Splinter moved to help his fallen son. Raphael dropped the bar and grabbed his sai. His head filled only with rage, he drove the dull dagger into Splinter's arm and into the stone wall.
Only then did Raphael notice what he did. His eyes went wide and his mouth agape. From it a moan escaped. Sure, Raphael was known to be hot-tempered and act on impulse, think later, but he now knew that this was his worst mistake.
The rat squeezed his eyes shut, letting tears fall down his cheeks. Teeth gritted together, Splinter suppressed his cries of pain. When he opened his blurry eyes, Raphael had vanished.
Raphael's sai still pinned Splinter to the wall. Wishing to aid his son, Splinter grasped the sai's handle and yanked it free. The movement cause acute pain, and blood tumbled from the hole onto the floor. Splinter let out a short howl and stumbled over to Donatello.
As soon as the steel impacted into Don's head, he was out. Lucky for him, his neck had snapped backwards, rejecting the bar to imbed itself into his brain. But, the wound gushed blood. Splinter hardly had a cllue how to stop so much from leaving the turtle's body.
Donatello's wrist wasn't in the best shape, either. The wrist wasn't exactly what had snapped, but the two bones connecting the hand to the rest of the arm. The call was so close, though, it was hard to tell. Fortunately, Donatello wasn't externally bleeding from there. But already it was swelling.
Just as Splinter pressed a clean, white pillow against Donatello's head wound, Leonardo and Michelangelo arrived from up top. Both looked exhausted with heavy eyelids, until they saw the aftermath before them.
Leonardo instantly forgot his report about the strange Foot and Purple Dragon patterns and rushed to help his master and brother.
"Master Splinter, what happened?" he cried.
Splinter only shook his head and pointed to the crism-bladed sai. Instantly, Leonardo stiffened and grew angry. His hands were clenched into fists and sparks flew from his eyes. Before he could jump to his feet, Splinter placed his hand onto his shoulder. He passed a meaningful look to his eldest, saying that Raphael, too, was his brother, and that, like Donatello, he deserved sympathy, not revenge. Leonardo, being emotionally closest to his master, relaxed a little and nodded. Then, without a glance backwards, he left to hunt down Raphael.
In the meantime, Michelangelo, confused, looked back and forth between Splinter and Leo and Don. It appeared to him that Donatello didn't look to comfortable.
"Uh, Master Splinter? Shouldn't we move Donnie to a couch or bed or something? I mean, he looks awfully uncomfie on the floor there."
"That may be a good idea, Michelangelo. Why don't you help me move him. And be careful."
Michelangelo's posture waned for a second. For him, it was hard to keep his mouth shut. Sometimes, he payed. Before Splinter noticed, he straightened his shoulders and helped lug his brother over onto the couch.
Splinter removed Donatello's blood-soaked mask from his head, set aside his bo and cut the fabric from around his swollen wrist. Fetching a rag and a bucket of hot water, he left Mike alone with his battered son. Michelangelo didn't like the idea of staying alone with Don. Mike was a bit squeamish.
Soon, Splinter returned and set to work on cleaning up the bloody mess. Already he had bandaged himself.
As far as any New Yorker could tell, it was a beautiful day. The sun shone above their heads without any clouds blocking its brilliant rays. Time was plentiful for the police. But, most of all, the temperature was impeccable.
Unfortunately, a citizen who lived below ground couldn't agree. His name was Donatello. Donatello was far from normal. He doesn't have a last name, but even more, he wasn't human. He was what you call a teenage mutant ninja turtle.
Donatello's brother, Raphael, was training with him. From a distance, their sensei Splinter was watching. Donatello, at that point, was playing defense.
"Raphael, move faster!" Splinter informed Raph. Raphael grunted in acknowledgement, and then swung his fist at Don't head. His knuckles connected with nothing. Frustrated, Raph tried again, but Don danced out of his way.
"Concentrate, Raphael," Splinter shouted.
With mounting annoyance, Raphael howled and kick out at his brother with all his might. He only succeeded at falling down when Donatello pushed off his back. While on the ground, Raph saw a tool, instict told him which could be used to his advantage. Forgetting to think, he picked up a metal bar and swung it at his brother's head. Don saw it coming, gaped at it, and tried to block the heavy object with his forearms. His reaction was a fraction too slow.
The mass and momentum of the bar carried it into Don't wrist and into the side of his head. Don's head was forced backward, taking his body with it. Donatello fell in a heap o the floor.
Splinter moved to help his fallen son. Raphael dropped the bar and grabbed his sai. His head filled only with rage, he drove the dull dagger into Splinter's arm and into the stone wall.
Only then did Raphael notice what he did. His eyes went wide and his mouth agape. From it a moan escaped. Sure, Raphael was known to be hot-tempered and act on impulse, think later, but he now knew that this was his worst mistake.
The rat squeezed his eyes shut, letting tears fall down his cheeks. Teeth gritted together, Splinter suppressed his cries of pain. When he opened his blurry eyes, Raphael had vanished.
Raphael's sai still pinned Splinter to the wall. Wishing to aid his son, Splinter grasped the sai's handle and yanked it free. The movement cause acute pain, and blood tumbled from the hole onto the floor. Splinter let out a short howl and stumbled over to Donatello.
As soon as the steel impacted into Don's head, he was out. Lucky for him, his neck had snapped backwards, rejecting the bar to imbed itself into his brain. But, the wound gushed blood. Splinter hardly had a cllue how to stop so much from leaving the turtle's body.
Donatello's wrist wasn't in the best shape, either. The wrist wasn't exactly what had snapped, but the two bones connecting the hand to the rest of the arm. The call was so close, though, it was hard to tell. Fortunately, Donatello wasn't externally bleeding from there. But already it was swelling.
Just as Splinter pressed a clean, white pillow against Donatello's head wound, Leonardo and Michelangelo arrived from up top. Both looked exhausted with heavy eyelids, until they saw the aftermath before them.
Leonardo instantly forgot his report about the strange Foot and Purple Dragon patterns and rushed to help his master and brother.
"Master Splinter, what happened?" he cried.
Splinter only shook his head and pointed to the crism-bladed sai. Instantly, Leonardo stiffened and grew angry. His hands were clenched into fists and sparks flew from his eyes. Before he could jump to his feet, Splinter placed his hand onto his shoulder. He passed a meaningful look to his eldest, saying that Raphael, too, was his brother, and that, like Donatello, he deserved sympathy, not revenge. Leonardo, being emotionally closest to his master, relaxed a little and nodded. Then, without a glance backwards, he left to hunt down Raphael.
In the meantime, Michelangelo, confused, looked back and forth between Splinter and Leo and Don. It appeared to him that Donatello didn't look to comfortable.
"Uh, Master Splinter? Shouldn't we move Donnie to a couch or bed or something? I mean, he looks awfully uncomfie on the floor there."
"That may be a good idea, Michelangelo. Why don't you help me move him. And be careful."
Michelangelo's posture waned for a second. For him, it was hard to keep his mouth shut. Sometimes, he payed. Before Splinter noticed, he straightened his shoulders and helped lug his brother over onto the couch.
Splinter removed Donatello's blood-soaked mask from his head, set aside his bo and cut the fabric from around his swollen wrist. Fetching a rag and a bucket of hot water, he left Mike alone with his battered son. Michelangelo didn't like the idea of staying alone with Don. Mike was a bit squeamish.
Soon, Splinter returned and set to work on cleaning up the bloody mess. Already he had bandaged himself.