Author’s Note

Yay, I decided to bring this story back, even though my sister accidentally erased it the first few times. o.0

Taking Place After: Aliens among Us

Don glared at the TV screen. Bishop had done it again, only this time, he had crossed the line into the ‘completely must avoid’ list.

The man had not only managed to trick the president of the United States that aliens had just attempted to abduct him, but he had also made the turtles public enemy number one by framing them as killer aliens. The turtle let out a sigh as he and his brothers continued to watch the live news.

“Man! Every time we try to do something good when Bishop’s involved, he always gets the better half of it!” Mikey, Don’s orange banded brother, exclaimed. “It just doesn’t seem fair!”

“That’s ‘cause it’s not, shell-for-brains,” Raphael, Don’s red banded brother, muttered. Leo, the supposed ‘eldest’ of the four, remained silent, seeming to stare straight through the TV monitor. His focus made Don feel almost uneasy as he continued to listen.

“We of the US government have agreed to invest large sums of money into the World Protection Program,” the president announced. Don’s sharp eye caught Bishop’s straight face twist into a sly smirk. His blood seemed to boil as his hands tightened into slight fists. Mikey was right. Bishop always did seem to get the upper half.

“Well, that’s great news,” Raph muttered sarcastically. “I’m sure that means we’ll be even more famous on the streets.”

“Which also means less training on the surface,” Leo stated, almost in a sharp tone. “From now on, we’re not venturing up there alone…at ALL.”

With that, the blue banded leader stormed off, leaving the other three staring after him. They then turned to each other and shrugged. Mike suddenly yawned.

“Boy, I didn’t know I’d be so whipped,” he muttered, standing up from the couch. “Donnie, what’s the time?”

“Uhh, One A.M.”

“Better turn in,” Raph muttered. “Master Splinter’s probably got a painful training session with our luck. That always seems to happen after some event like this.”

Don frowned. Normally, that was true, he had to admit. He nodded and jumped off the couch.

“’Night, guys,” he said, moving at a swift pace towards his room.

“See ya in the morn’n, Donnie!” Mikey called as he buzzed off for his room. Don couldn’t help but wonder why Mikey always seemed to have an endless supply of energy.

The turtle walked into his room and closed the door behind him. Don scratched the back of his neck as he walked over to his desk. Note to self, Donnie, he thought to himself, eyeing the scattered papers, knocked over mugs and gadgets laying about the table. Clean up mess from last night…or dread the next.

He let out a sigh. He’d find the chance to get to it eventually.

The turtle jumped onto the top bunk of his bed, swinging onto his back and staring into the ceiling for a few seconds, thinking back about that day. Bishop had come close to shooting him with some sort of gun…but had hesitated and giving Raph just enough time to appear and come to the rescue. The turtle now thought over possible reasons why Bishop had hesitated. Suddenly, something hit him.

Bishop was probably remembering an action in the past, one Don had forgotten a long time ago, from the day the turtles had first faced Bishop. It was back in the laboratory; Bishop had planned on dissecting them. Don had never been able to completely wipe the day from his memory, as much as he would have liked to. He knew he’d never forget out fast his heart seemed to be pounding just before Master Splinter, April, and Casey broke in, saving Mikey from being cut open. Just as the turtles had been cut loose, along with their old friend, Leatherhead, a brawl had broken out amongst Bishop and his soldiers and the turtles along with Casey, April, and Master Splinter. During the battle, Leather head had broken a large gas pipe, sending smoky gray gas everywhere. The lights flickered, making it even harder to see.

Don remembered running forwards, thinking he had seen something, and suddenly stepping right into a device that reminded him of a bear-trap. Only, this one was designed only to hold it’s prisoner carefully, not to harm them. While he quickly attempted to pry the ‘claws’ loose of his foot, Bishop found him. Every word and action in that conversation would be implanted in the back of his mind for…well, maybe the rest of his life.

“Not exactly the turtle I was hoping on catching,” the man had murmered as he walked towards Don. The turtle readied himself in a defensive position, glaring at Bishop. “But you will have to do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Don had demanded. Bishop suddenly pulled out some sort of stun gun and fired it. Don collapsed to the ground, finding it hard to move…nearly impossible.

“Don’t worry, Donatello,” Bishop said in a low, mocking tone. “My ray will only paralyze you long enough for me to raise the beginning of my plan.”

“You’ve already explained it all,” Don pointed out, managing to turn his head just enough to keep an eye on Bishop. “How are you going to completely dissect me before this gas lets up?”

Don discovered his thoughts were wrong when Bishop had suddenly laughed lowly at his comment.

“Oh, I don’t have enough time to do that,” he said, turning around. Don’s eyes widened as he noticed a shot container in Bishop’s hand. The man turned and picked up a few small viles holding some strange green liquids. “Instead, I will take the longer time period.”

He poured one full vile into the shot’s container, and a little from each of the others.

“In order to keep our earth safe from mutants and aliens,” Bishop stated as he slowly screwed on the lid for the shot. “I need a powerful army, and your mutant DNA is just the sort of power I need.”

“How are you supposed to get it?” Don asked, giving the shot a weary glance.

“Well, I hadn’t figured it out until just seconds ago,” Bishop said with a clever smirk. “In order to build the perfect army, I need something from each of you mutants. Your brains, Leonardo’s determination, Michelangelo’s speed, Raphael’s endurance, and Leatherhead’s strength. But I need them all in one package, not one by one.”

As Bishop neared Don, the turtle tried to move himself but found it impossible at the moment. He could hear his brothers and Leatherhead fighting a few yards away. Bishop kneeled down next to the turtle, his face twisted into a cruel grin.

“And you, Donatello, are the lucky mutant who will be able to help me make this one-of-a-kind DNA,” he said. Don closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the needle lower…he hated needles. He felt his side get pricked and winced.

“Don’t worry,” Bishop stated, tossing the shot container behind him. “Everything you just learned will come together when the time is right…” And he disappeared into the remaining fog.

Don had gotten his muscles and feel back shortly afterwards, finding Bishop had released him from the trap. Just as the gas was beginning to clear, Don met up with his brothers to finish the battle, getting there just in time to see Mikey get caught and strapped to another table…a bone-saw at his throat.

After that day, Don had questioned whether he should tell his brothers or not. He had decided not to, worried his family would bounce into questioning him. Plus, none of them would probably been able to help. By the time they had gotten back home after the entire funeral for the Fugitoid, whatever had been injected into his body would have already completely circulated through his bloodstream.

That had to be why Bishop had hesitated. The man was probably questioning himself. But, when was ‘the right time’? And what was going to happen.

Don shuddered at the memory, deciding that just HAD to be it. Whatever Bishop was planning hadn’t started yet, and almost every month he had a horrible dream reminding him of that day. He quickly pulled up his covers and let out a slight yawn, attempting to push the memory from his mind. He eventually drifted off to sleep.