Authors note: I've kinda walked away from the fanfiction world for a while. But suddenly I've felt the urge to write again. But rather than jump back into some of my half written stories, I've decided to start something new, and see where it takes me. This in no way follows any specific canon from any of the exisiting storylines out there. This is my interpretation of the legend of the ninja turtles, a legend i have heard many versions of since I was a young child. It sounds silly to use a word like legend for something like this, but when you think about it, things like the ninja turtles and all of our other entertainment are this era's legends and myths. in this story i will try to put a realistic spin on the turtles as i attempted to flesh out their personalities into much more three demensional characters in a real world. Or come as close as I can, anyhow. And I also promise to do all i can to put personal bias aside. This story will revolve around all four turtles. I have a favorite turtle, and I have a turtle I absolutely loathe, but I will do what I can to keep that from showing. But enough rambling from me. On with the show.

I hope my sons can forgive me. All of their short lives, they have wanted nothing more than a normal exisitence. But i fear fate will allow no such thing. Even with their altered forms, they could attempt a life of peace below the ground. Yet somehow, I feel that the world they live in will not give them that chance. New York City is constantly growing, always changing. It seems the city has a pulsing lifeblood of its own.

Every day, clans of outcast youths delve deeper into these sewers to find a place of their own to hide. From what i can gather, they call themselves the Purple Dragons. They are troubled youths, warped by the harsh realities of life in the urban jungle. I use all of my skills of deception and misdirection, but I fear they may one day stumble upon our lair. On top of this, workers from the world above constanly push their limits, searching for more room and more power to fuel their monster of a city. It will only be a matter of time before they find us.

I find myself left with little choice. The world above us will never be able to accept us. And I will not always be here to protect them. With a heavy heart, i must place the burden of the ancient art of ninjitsu upon my young sons. I have studied their movements for some time, and have decided on weapons for each of them.

The eldest, Leonardo, shall wield the traditional katana blades of ancient Japan. Out of all of my sons, he possesses the keenest skills, unkowingly passing many of the camoflouged tests I have put him through. His will is strong, and had he been born to a normal life, he may very well have been a great leader of men.

The bo staff is a weapon of skill, not strength. Donatello has shown an intelligence far greater than that of his brothers. His nature is gentle. The staff will allow him to keep his distance from his enemies. Hopefully, with his mind, he will find few instances where he needs use it.

Deep within Raphael, I sense rage. Rage against fate for having locked him within the sewers. Rage against the people who would never understand him. Rage against himself, for not being able to cope. Hopefully, the training of a ninja will give him the calmness and discipline that he so desperately needs. For him, the sai. A three pronged dagger of sorts. Proper use of the sai takes great ability. If Raphael can get past his anger, I believe he will excel.

I have given it much thought, and i have decided that young Michelangelo will not be trained. It is not simply that he is the youngest. His smile, his laugh. They remind me all too well that my sons are simply boys. Boys searching for answers in a world that has abandonded them. Michelangelo will retain the innocence that his brothers will be robbed of. He will be the tether that keeps the others focused. Their younger brother.

This decision, the decision to turn my sons into weapons, has taken much out of me. It will be with a heavy heart that I teach them the ancient art of assasination. But these skills will serve them well. My time will soon come, and then they will have nothing left to rely on but these skills. And each other...

Excerpt from the memoirs of Master Splinter.

AN- just a little opener to set the tone and the scene of my story. The next chapter will pick up as the turtles begin their training. If possible, please leave some reviews with feedback. I know very little of the TMNT community here at fanfiction, and would like to know where you all stand. New chapter will be up soon!