“Just once, I wish we would encounter an alien menace that wasn't immune to bullets.”

-Dr. Who

When Mikey woke up, he had no idea where he was. His shoulder was itchy, he couldn’t feel his toes, and he found that the ceiling was a very interesting thing to stare at; Very swirly, very yellow. It reminded him of the time that Raph had tried to make an omelet, except he was slightly less nauseated by this. Only slightly.

“Okay Mike, you’re having a nightmare about the omelet that ate the sewers and spat it back up, that’s all. But now it’s eaten you, so it’s up to the Turtle Titan to save you from this mess…!” Nah, no luck; There was no Turtle Titan swooping down from the skies to save him from his eggy prison. Although…if he ever did get around to starting up that comic, it might make a first good issue. The critics would never find anything wrong with it!

“Turtle Titan saves amazingly sexy citizen of Turtleopolis from the depths of the giant omelet, concocted by the devilish Dr. Raphael ‘Egg-lover’ Hamato and his henchman Casey ‘Bacon Boy’ Jones. Man, I’m a genius.” He paused, thinking, then added, “A genius who needs to pee.”

So it was time to stand up…but the cement bench was so comfortable. How could he ever even think of giving up its lovingly cold embrace and the back pains it gave him? Such a decision was hard to make. Get up and face the music, remember how the hell he’d gotten on the cement bench in the first place (He was willing to bed his first edition version of Silver Sentry that it hadn’t been a pleasant experience), or he could linger a little longer and let it come back slowly, painlessly (maybe).

…But that’d be boring.

He clambered off the bench as quickly as possible, ready and willing to obey nature’s call, and even made it two steps away before his knee gave out and he went crashing down onto the floor for the third time that day. Beak ground roughly into the cement floor, Mikey did his best to muffle the raw scream that tore itself lose as pain shot up and down from the back of his leg. (Why wasn’t he going into shock? He was supposed to be going into shock…!) This thing hurt worse than…than…than a lot of the stuff that’d happened to him before. White hot and escalating to an almost constant throb, the pain seemed content to hang around the back of his left knee.

Why? Why…why…he tried to shift the leg and only a fresh jolt of unpleasantness shot through his bones. Crud, how had he forgotten? The military-ninja-dudes; they’d shot him…! The weirdoes had shot him with his back turned and his focus forward instead of all around. Leo was going to murder him for that; painfully.

“Guys…” Speaking of which, where was Donnie with the painkillers when he needed him? Or better yet, Raph and the neverending ‘Saw’ marathon from hell? He’d even take Leo’s tea…just, anything?

No, he told himself, Donnie was at home. If the cold cement was any clue, this was most definitely not “Lair sweet lair”. And Donne was home, making sure that Leo and Raph got better. And they needed to get better. Mikey needed to get up. His bros were still waiting for him to come home with the pizza, and if he didn’t get up, they would wonder where he went, but they couldn’t get up, so they’d all be stuck there with nothing to do but worry and then they’d all starve and…!

But hell, he’d never actually gotten shot before. It hurt.

Grazed, yes; Everyone Master Splinter and probably April had felt the bite of a bullet as it’d whirled by, not quite missing, but not quite hitting the mark either. But a direct hit? The gunmen were usually too freaked out by the appearance of a massive turtle to do anything but aim blindly.

The hit was at least a couple hours old and it hurt.

“Even the Battle Nexus Champion has his bad days.” Mike grumbled into the floor. “These guys are going to be sorry they ever messed with this champion.” The cement ground muffled out the words, but it didn’t matter. Mikey believed them, he tried to. And for a little while, everything was fine. Sort of. He still had to pee.

“Come on Mike, just pull yourself up and you can take a piss in comfort. It’s not that hard.” Talking helped. It was easier; he could focus on the words and believe them, maybe think there was someone else there with him, and that as soon as he took this potty break, there’d be a shoulder to lean on.

How long had he been out? Nothing wanted to move, every limb and muscle locked in the chains of tiredness that he’d ignored when leaping off the bench. He was so sore, it meant that he’d been in beddy-bye land for at least a couple of hours, maybe half a day? So much for two o’clock. Donnie was going to murder him. First for letting himself get shot, then for missing curfew, and maybe for dropping the pizza. Ah, the pizza. He was supposed to be bringing pizza. For Leo and Raph. His bros needed him, needed him like he needed them now. Where was that turtle power when you needed it?

“It’s not that hard. Do it for Raph and Leo. Think about them. Focus.” Snorting at the thought of actually trying to concentrate, he rose up onto his elbows first, slowly, ever so slowly…he looked like an idiot, but he’d look even more like one if he fell right back down on his beak. Reaching for the bench was next, though this took some stomach crawling, which looked even weirder, but there wasn’t anything that could be done. He just had to keep moving, keep going, and empty his bladder at some point.

“Heh. Raph couldn’t do this, he’s too fat.” The thought made him grin, and it kept him from thinking too much about the ribs which were screaming out for a break. Just a few more tugs forward, a few more inches gained, and he’d be able to reach and pull himself up. Just…about…

“Do you require assistance?”

“Wah!” For the fourth time that day, Mikey’s beak met the ground. Halfway through pulling himself up onto the bench, using every bit of concentration that he had to not think about the burning in his leg, and then somebody chooses to talk!? The guy had come out of nowhere! He hadn’t heard him or anything, not the click of a door or the whine of a rusty gate. Though, Mike hadn’t really looked around when he’d woken up either; no one had ever accused him of being particularly aware of his surroundings.

“Doesn’t look like the Paracetemol did much for the pain did it? Although, it seems to have functioned perfectly well as a depressant. Interesting. I wonder if Terry would have any theories…” Oh. A scientist. The guy was a scientist, an observer, wondering about how he, the large mutant turtle, was acting and chasing after theories. (He knew what a depressant was, Donnie had all made them make sure they knew “danger words” like that. Operation “Annoy the Hell Out of Everybody”, had just begun.) A scientist. Hadn’t he already fulfilled his ‘meet a guy obsessed with mutants’ quota with Bishop? Wasn’t that enough?

“I’m taking this one step at a time, I’ll panic later.” Mikey mumbled into the floor, rolling his eyes even though his back was turned. “If you’ve got any complaints, please file them in writing and we’ll take as long as possible getting back to you.” This time when he pulled himself up, he made sure to be ready for anything. He could focus on his surroundings, really! He just…didn’t want to most of the time.

“So you do speak English! Wonderful. And you sound so fluent…here Terry thought that we’d have to get a translation program running. Such a pessimist, that man.” Ah sweet rest. He’d finally reached the bench again, and gave himself a second to just let the pressure off of his limbs. On a side note, what was up with this guy? Was he trying to be nice before the dissection? Because it was only freaking Mikey out more than he’d already been freaked. The guy looked normal, brown hair and a hoodie thrown over a pair of jeans and sandals, but all the normal ones usually turned out crazy. (Casey was the exception. He looked crazy and he acted it too.)

“Okay, standard kidnapping victim question for you. What’s going on? What do you want? And no, I’m not going to let you stick any needles in me at all. None. Zilch. Nada. Kapische? No testing, no figuring out what the talking turtle can do. Actually, I think it’d be better if you just let me go, I might not kick your butt too hard if you just apologize and recognize how amazing I am.”

Expecting a Bishop-esque rant and a little evil genius cackle at the end, Mikey was thrown off when he only received a raised eyebrow.

“We’re not wondering about you, Alien. We’re just interested in the technology that your Triceraton friends possess. I’m afraid that I’m a bit squeamish, we once had to dissect a pig in high school biology and I fainted as soon as the chest cavity was open. You’re safe from my knife at least. Although, I’m surprised that you know about the turtle. It’s a native species on this planet; I do hope you didn’t assume that they were the dominant species on this mudball we call home.”

“Triceraton…friends?” It sounded even weirder when he said it, Mike realized.

“Yes, the Triceratons. Invaded the planet almost two years ago? Orange? Three horns? We have a photo of your purple acquaintance accompanying the Triceraton Prime Leader while he was in Earth’s orbit. They have some beautiful technology, like your enclosure, and those blasters that have become so popular on the streets lately. It was merely by chance that we came upon your comrades a few nights ago, although Terry and I didn’t recognize you properly until we saw the photos. We’re sorry your comrades were injured, but we were just-”

“You were torching a police station!”

“And Fire Stations 12 and 10. We can’t go around getting rid of a building if people just come and put it out, now can we? But I digress, all we wish to ask you is for some information regarding-”

“You shot me just to ask a question?!”

“-the Triceraton technology. We were able to recover some of it, but reverse-engineering any of it has proved impossible. As you are also an extra-terrestrial, we were hoping that you might be able to help us with this task.”

“Look dude, even if I did know anything about the Triceratons, I’m not gonna tell a guy who goes around killing innocent people by torching buildings! You’ve got the wrong reptile.” He paused for a second. “And I’m not an alien! You’re looking at one hundred percent mutant turtle!” Again, the eyebrow rose.

“Mutant…turtle? I never considered it, but some of the radiation left behind by the Triceraton vessels did have some odd properties, and it would certainly understand your grasp of Earth culture.”

Aw shell. Foot, meet mouth.

“Interesting. Rather hard to belive, though not implausible. Extra-terrestrial genetics…it would certainly open up some interesting directions. Chimeras? Mmm, soldier enhancement? Though, what good would a shell really do on the battlefield…Perhaps a more useful animal quality? Or a gas, mutanegenic properties…turn your enemies into food! No…but the chimeras…” He was ignoring Mike by this point, muttering ideas and possible theories to himself. Again, he thought of Bishop, if not a more casually dressed version of him. But the spiel was the same. Soldiers, wars, enemies…how had he managed to get into this?

“You’re going to have to drop our little wall for me Kelley; the sooner we’ve got a few samples, the better. Of course it’s fine! The thing’s got a bullet through its knee, not going anywhere. No, I won’t sue you when my head gets bitten off. Yeah, okay, see it going down, thanks. Now I need some of my stuff, it’s probably next to Terry…” And just like that, the evil omelet that ate New York disappeared. Wow, and people thought that he was the dumb one. Giant turtle, which could walk on his hands if he wanted to, let loose to hobble his way to freedom. Though…he wished he knew where his ‘chucks were. Would make this a piece of cake; granted, it would be a rather gross piece, probably a fruitcake, but a piece of cake all the same.

And that meant it was time to go. This time when he stood, it was carefully. Easy…easy…not too much weight on the one leg, but he was on his feet again, no more faceplants today. With a grimace, Mikey realized he was going to have to run like this, or at the very least hop his way to freedom.

“I need several 10mL…no, at least ten…yes, those…tell Terry to get his head out of those machines…no I’m not mad, just give him a chocolate bar or something…! Hold on, it’s standing. Don’t I-told-you-so me Kelley! Get it back up! Up!”

“Way too late dude.” So they’d broken his knee, they hadn’t done anything to his sixteen years of living in a ninja household. “Later!” Not quite on all fours, he bowled past the screaming guy, pulling himself with his hands and pushing off with his good leg. It was awkward at best, but he was guessing that shock was on his side here.

None of his bros were going to believe this, escaping on three limbs? It was acrobatics bragging rights for the rest of known practice time, maybe Master Splinter would cut him some slack on flips! The possibilities were endless. He pushed off a wall as it loomed in front of him, (ignore the shoot of pain, ignore ignore ignore. Try to remember all those lessons of pain management that Master Splinter taught you all those years ago) sliding across the floor he landed on for a moment before reclaiming the rhythm of pulls and pushes that had kept him going before. He ignored the fact that he was slowing down. Ignored that his arms were starting to burn worse than his knee.

“Hah I probably lost them. Not even those military-ninja dudes can catch up to me now!” Famous last words.

“Is this yours?” The tone was so innocent, but the voice so loud; obviously a faked serenity. But those guys usually turned out to be the dangerous ones. (Along with the normal ones. Scratch that, in Mikey’s books, everyone turned out to be the dangerous one.)

In any case, the turtle halted where he was, practically falling over himself and grimacing as the broken ribs were crunched again and the knee was forced through more abuse. And again, a scientist had appeared, or at least, the one actually looked like a proper scientist. His glasses were too large for his face, the lenses so thick that he looked cartoon-like. The white labcoat was present, and in one beefy hand, the newcomer grasped Mikey’s Shell Cell.

“Gurney’s such an idiot to pull that stunt. But in any case, I’ve looked through this intriguing device, and I do believe I’ve got it figured out. As you may know, we’ve already met your friends Blue and Red, or do they prefer Raphael and Leonardo? And when I lay my hands on this communications device, what do I find but their names? I do hope that they’re feeling better. Because if I were to call them and…accidentally…let it slip that we had you, and perhaps let them know where we were, then they might have some difficulty fighting off an ambush while healing.” The newcomer tossed the phone between his hands as if daring Mikey to make a grab for it. Maybe he could of, maybe. Leg? What leg? His leg didn’t hurt. Though, the bandage around it was turning an unhealthy reddish brown…

“Don’t you agree?”

This chapter is dedicated to the Mikey cutout that I got off the 4kids site. He kinda looks like a lego-man. All block-like and stuff. Though, I don’t think it’s a very good dedication. The story has veered onto the common ‘OH NOES! Look! An evil looking scientist!’, track. Not good. This is what happens when you don’t work your plot out to every last detail before you start writing. It collapses in the middle of the chapter and you have to rethink everything. Hopefull, what few things I’ve cooked up will keep you entertained.

Also, thanks go to Eridani23, chibirice and Simone Robinson for the reviews. Same goes to everybody who watched and let me know that there were people who liked it enough that they’ll live through another chapter. Made me smile.

On a side note, the photo of Don, all the Triceraton junk, etc is from the 2003 cartoon, beginning of season 3 I think? Sorry if that threw anybody off.