TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman & Peter Laird of Mirage Studios.

This story is rated PG-13 for bloody violence and some foul language. You were warned.

Domo Arigato to the people that review. This is my first attempt at a TMNT fan-fiction, although I am not necessarily a newbie at this. Please review with positive criticism. (Kind of an oxymoron, eh?)

Of all God's creatures great and small, rodents probably have the worst lot in life. Almost every animal eats rodents. There's a reason why rabbits have so many babies—most of them, if not all, will be eaten. Also, most humans have issues with some types of rodents, fearing them for some reason or another. Why do you think there are so many different types of rat traps at Wal-Mart, right next to the cockroach hotels and ant poisons? Rodents have it bad—but at least it's not as bad as being an insect.

When you think about it, rodents are not all that terrifying. They have no venom; they are small, easily killed. In fact, most of them only cause damage to gardens or sometimes carry diseases. Even in big bad New York City, rodents aren't the most terrifying thing to deal with. There are many more animals that are worse than rodents—many humans even dare to keep these wild beasts as pets.

Snakes are probably the most horrible creatures known to mankind. In Genesis, the Devil as a snake convinced Eve & Adam to commit the first sin. They are cold-blooded, bearing no legs or fur. They can eat almost anything they can get through their jaws, some which can dislocate them. The worst thing about snakes, however, is not the way they look, or the way they act, or even their Biblical and Historical past. Perhaps the single most disturbing fact about snakes is the many ways they can kill.

The first thing a snake can do to kill is to simply bite into an animal's neck, crushing their vertebrae and instantly snapping their spinal cords. Failing to kill their prey in that technique, some snakes have such potent venom that they can even kill Elephants in 3-4 hours. If that wasn't terrifying enough, snakes can at least rely on one last strategy—to constrict its prey, breaking every bone in its ribcage and suffocating it to death. Undoubtedly, snakes know how to kill in any situation.

Suddenly, that spider in your bedroom window isn't so bad after all, is it?

We are brought to perhaps the most disgusting place known to mankind—the New York City sewers. It's been rumored that alligators that were flushed down the toilet can live down there. Other times, it's mutated humans or animals banished to a life of shame that live in the raunchy atmosphere. For certain, there will always be rats in the sewers; rats are amazing at adapting that way. In this case, however, there is no pursuit for rats, mutants, or alligators.

The only thing to look for is an elongated, leg-less devil that has been crawling down here for ages—and as luck would have it, it has found its next prey.

This snake, a common boa constrictor, is of particular interest. It has been exposed to toxic waste and radiation for over fifteen years, which has caused it to swell into large proportions and give off a paralyzing saliva. Where did this constrictor come from? Perhaps it was once a household pet that was disposed, or an animal that had escaped from one of New York's zoos. What it once was does not matter at this point; this is our silent enemy, one that is large and lithe enough to consume us.

As for the prey, he is a common, graying rat you'd expect to find in any sewer. This rat, however, began his life as a beloved pet of a respectable Ninjistu artist. After a few wrongs turns and twists around the road of life, he has found himself here, in this most despicable place. His current life, however, is not as desperate as one would image; he has his pupils, his sons by love alone, to watch over. So, this rat-being feels like a human, has the shame of a human, walks, talks, acts—but is not a human.

This rat, whom we may call Sensei for the moment, is taking a mild stroll down the large tunnels of the sewers. Sensei would undoubtedly like to walk into a temple or a park like us, but many humans would be terrified at the thought of a fully-clothed person like him. So, for the unbending world, the rat is walking in the 1912-constructed sewers, enjoying the freedom of movement. Even in the darkness of the sewers, he can find inner peace. Home is where the heart is, even if it's in a sewer.

Sensei hears nothing as he walks along the narrow corridors, careful not to fall into the sewage. If anyone were to come for him, he would hear them—after all, even his sons would eventually step into a puddle and alert him to their presence. What he is not expecting is the lean, 20-something-foot snake closing in around him from the ceiling. The constrictor is slithering throughout pipelines, wrapping himself around anything on the ceiling. The boa is very interested in Sensei—and approaches with trained quietness.

Then, there is the sound of something dropping down from the ceiling, teeth bared, lunging onto the hapless rat.

Sensei has with him only a small wooden walking pole, but this does not mean he can't defend himself. Side-stepping the attack of the snake, large ivory teeth slice into the left side of his robes. Blood awakens both primal senses within the creatures, heightening the master's fear and the snake's anxiety. Never-the-less, the two fight as if they were competing by the codes of Bushido, although only one knows them by heart. Each creature waits for the other to move, watching every muscle, eye, and tail movement in anticipation.

The master strikes first, agility unhampered by his age. He lands a solid blow in the center of the snake's cranium, making the sound of cracked bone and the screech of the snake ring throughout the halls. In retaliation, the snake lands a successful bite into the rat's shoulder, biting into his collar bone and the back of his neck. Sensei is paralyzed by ancient fear, but manages to cling onto his cane. He manages to pry himself loose from the bite, stabbing his staff into the mouth of the constrictor.

The snake, with jaws like titanium, easily devours the staff whole, leaving Sensei defenseless. More blood spills onto the floor as the snake attempts to strike the master again, finding its nose blooded by the claws of the rat-man. Without any registration of pain, the snake coils around the rat, not bothering to get a strong bite on him again. Within mere seconds, Sensei finds himself gasping for breath, the boa's coils compressing his ribs tighter and tighter with every movement. The rat's vision becomes dizzy, and he blacks out, still desperate for oxygen.

As far as the constrictor was concerned, the battle was over. He loosened his coils, preparing to devour his dying foe whole. Sensei did not stir, his body betraying his spirit. The boa lowered his head into the darkness, leaving only a silhouette of the rat-man's cost of defeat. The true terror came from what the eye couldn't see in the dark, the sight of a creature gorging itself on the body of an innocent.

Or, so it was, until a second and a third creature appeared out of the shadows.

The first creature to strike was a humanoid turtle, barely fifteen years old. In his hands were two sharp, silver katana blades, lethal as a tiger. His shell bore several scars of previous battles, some he had to fight alone. Around his brown eyes he wore a bandanna of bright blue, describing his calm, cool personality. However, in this situation, he had lost his natural composure, reacting only on instinct and indignant anger. This turtle, the leader of his brothers, was the soul known only as Leonardo.

Leonardo heard his father's fight echo down the halls of the sewers, and he had come to aid him as fast as he could. With a sudden anger like a tsunami, the turtle had sliced into the bulk of the snake's hide. The boa gagged on his prey, vomiting the rat back up and turning to his new, deadlier assailant. Leonardo found only a glint of fear in the constrictor's eyes, and he hoped that his inner fear did not show either.

Another brother of Leonardo's splashed through the sewers, just barely catching up with his brother. This turtle, an academic and acrobatic genius, wore a band of purple around his face. He was petrified for a moment as his brother, a tornado of steel, began to slash mercilessly into the snake. His eyes lowered and he found his master lying unconscious, and the urge to fight welled into him like a thunder storm. Deciding that it would be best to remove Sensei from the combat area, he drug the rat off into the shadows, where no doubt his other two brothers would come to find them. The balance of wisdom and combat finesse ran deeply into the mind of Donatello.

Two swords and a bo staff of wood became worlds of pain to the boa constrictor. Cries of anger echoed throughout the sewers as Leonardo fully lost his temper, his energy focused into skewering his opponent. Donatello kept the quieter of the two, although his heart ached with the agony of a howling storm. Neither of the brothers could fully see that they were winning their battle, driving their foe away from their home. Their eyes were clouded with tears of rage.

The boa constrictor had finally had enough to do with the two turtles and their father. He slithered up onto the ceiling, retreating back into the pipes from which it came. Neither pupil of Sensei's dared to move, listening as the plump snake's scales grated against metal as it escaped. They felt no pain from battle, but were in sheer emotional destruction. Donatello was the first to move, walking back to the tormented body of his father. Leonardo unfroze seconds later, watching his brother carry Sensei back to their lair. No doubt that he would need medical assistance, if he managed to survive.

And so, we watch the snake, the rat, and the turtles separate from the spot where barely five minutes of battle took place. No lives were shed, but tears and the scent of blood distinctly floated in the air. The atmosphere of the sewers quickly quieted down, almost to the sound of complete silence. There was only one noise that disturbed the turtles as they returned to their lair.

That was the sound of a rat screaming in the distance, swallowed in death.

Quick Author's Note:

To Machias Banshee:

I am sorry! I am sorry! I am sorry! I did not mean to give the impression that Splinter died! He's still living in the story! I am so sorry! I'm a raving-mad Splinter fan myself! I wouldn't ever DARE kill the old rat! I am so sorry!

To Ramica:

I am progressively trying to learn about snakes, particularly constrictors. I realize that there's no way in hell a boa could get that big, but it's just that crazy for the sake of the story. If you could help me with some snake facts, I would appreciate it.