Title here, please.


For those of you who've disregarded the given title, good for you. I really don't know what to call this story anyway. There's action. There's adventure. It's modeled loosely after some sort of Bond movie. And oh yes, there's a wise ass chick. So many twists! So read forth, gentle viewer.


Many people would take this opportunity to reflect on their lives as they've lived them. Their sundering defeats. Making whatever 'painful' lives they've had leak into one another before their eyes. And then be filled with morose over their trembling and dry death. All the grieving, futile prayers, and confused anger winding up slowly into madness.

And here I am giving a monologue. Figures. I was never much for wallowing anyway. When your whole life is about walking shoulder deep in sludge, you don't tend to stick your head in for the view. That about sums it up I guess.

Maybe not. Master would say I'm too pessimistic. Master. Someone once asked me why I never called him father, or dad, or something like that. As if our family was some BDSM shit. I think we call him Master out of respect. You wouldn't walk up to a monk or a priest and call them Joe. We were just always taught to call him Master. And after awhile, Master was the same thing as Father. I think he knew that.

Well. That killed thirty seconds. Might as well start thinking of a way out of this pit. Looking up at the ceiling, there's that band of hope still. Out of reach. Just like every fucking thing these days.

Makes you wonder how I, one of the famous mutant ninja turtles, wound up in this predicament. Facing a slow and boring death at the hands of my own hunger probably. I suppose the story starts many ages ago in Japan. Or how part of a heritage traveled to New York City in the sixties. Then again, I'd like to get out of here sometime today.


Hundreds of miles from home, sitting alone (again) at a nearby pub. The last call was coming and the already wound down scene began to wind down into an empty hall. It was the sad part of a nightly cycle.

Seated at the far end of the bar, Raphael frowned into his mug. Far being much more a state of mind than a measure of distance. Ever since he moved out of New York a loneliness had settled over him. Like a wet blanket trying to smother a fire. His pride was one of the few things that kept him from moving home with his brothers now. But…

Being a Mutant-American no longer afforded him the same freedom he had as a derelict. And living in this new, yet familiar, world was one of the most uncomfortable and disappointing points of his life. He longed to simply slip into the city's' sewers and live again in secrecy. If it wouldn't be so idiotic and hypocritical of his past.

No, he was here to stay. The world wanted its mutants out of the closet. Even if they didn't act that way. The world, that is. Looking down the emptying bar, Raphael could see that the woman of Earth believed this twice as much. The local peasant maids wouldn't get closer than four seats away.

That last figure given by that night, as it was. Usually woman congregated at the complete opposite end of the bar. A tight blond had stayed past her bedtime. And hadn't been scared off by the green monster in the corner. Or maybe was in to that sort of thing, he didn't know. By the looks of it, she was definitely looking for something there. Dressed how she was and all. But this wasn't a story in Penthouse. Even those sidelong glances he had received, girls only meant trouble. Or a lawsuit according to the papers. Raphael resumed frowning into the rim of foam in the bottom of the mug. He was starting classes in the morning. Although he could've downed another glass before closing, he wouldn't have been able to drive the ten blocks back to his apartment.

Dropping a few bills on the counter, Raphael mused he still had a nearly full case of Budweiser in his refrigerator. He laid his coat over his arm and turned out of the seat. The girl was looking hard into a shot glass, shattering his faint hope of a one nighter. Turning straight ahead to the door, he strode through down the wood planks, which creaked under his weight. They reminded him of Casey's'. A shot of spit struck the ground and splattered over the side of his shoe.


The room was vastly oversized by comparison to the class. Seven to eight men and women in their early twenties reclined against the first row of old desks. Raphael the only mutant among them in the musky brown hall.

The conversation was light in a repetitive and impressionistic sort of way. Stories from around the globe bounced back and forth. As usual, the turtle was silent. It never ceased to amaze him how humans continually amazed themselves with their own voices. He looked away out the window.

His mind was on more important things that afternoon. Nothing a simple human would understand. Leonardo had called that morning. None of his brothers ever called in the morning, from long years of electro-Raph therapy.

Hamato Yoshi's sword had been stolen. The one thing Splinter had taken from the apartment nearly thirty years ago, an heirloom samurai sword from Japan. It had been left with the turtles five years ago when Splinter returned to Rokko. And last night, someone had taken it.

His brothers were distraught in uproar. Leo said that their younger brother Mike had gone busting heads until dawn. Don had almost joined him, except for the threat of his work in the morning. By now they were all around the war table. His own chair empty.

The only thing that kept him from returning home was this class. There were only these three classes before the weekend, and if he were to miss any one of them he would be automatically expelled. Which is what he told his brother that morning. The disappointment followed him here. He figured on at least finishing the morning's class before making a decision. Returning to his brothers tempted him. Restoring honor. Another adventure…

The door blew open with a rush of the wind tunnel of the hall. A stalky lizard tumbled in like a ragweed onto the floor. The noise was transferred into silence and twelve pairs of eyes drilled him. He set about gathering the contents of his duffel bag back.

Only a few beats behind, a broad chested man swung in. He stopped and looked down at the lizard. Stepping around and closing the door, he dropped his briefcase and jacket on the front desk. His square jaw was set hard, but broke into a tested smile.

"Well now. Looks like a stand up group here who's decided to commit suicide. I applaud you." The class broke into polite laughter. The lizard clutched his bag and went to Raphael.

"Hi Raph." He hissed.

"Hey Elias."

"You are the brave souls who've joined express archeology course offered at Boston New University." He clipped open his case and began removing sheafs of papers. "I am your instructor, Jonathan Sands. And in a few weeks, maybe some of you will be joining me in Argentina as was noted in the course listing." Jonathan Sands came around the table and offered a pack of paper to each student. "This is what we'll be going over in the rest of the week. Most importantly-" He handed the packet slowly to Elias. "The consent form on the top. If you have any fear of heights, mutilation, unusual death, or hard work, don't sign the consent." He gave the last to Raphael and returned to the desk.

A knocking at the door made each eye shift sideways, to a well-curved red head outside the room. The teacher nodded his chin up with another smile and closed his briefcase. "And don't bother coming back. This course is to prepare you for fieldwork; it's not an academic class. I don't want anyone here who doesn't plan on going on a dig in the next four weeks." He picked up his jacket and case handle, coming back around to the door. "Read that all over tonight, tomorrow, and Friday. By Monday I want only the students who will be sticking it through." The woman opened the door and he stepped out. "Oh, you're dismissed." He added with the doors close.


Class, filing down the granite steps to the street, dispersed through the concrete campus. Elias hung back, stepping in place beside Raphael as he jammed the papers into his bag.

"Hey, so what are you doing tonight?" He quipped. Raphael cast a glance to the lizard. Wandering black eyes threw back and forth to him. Still with that goofy smile.

"Falling over drunk in an alley." He drolled. They both smirked. "I might be goin' home."

"No Way!" Elias cried. Outraged, he glared at Raphael, both eyes somehow focusing on the green face. "You're going to leave me in that class? Those guys'll eat me alive!"

"Only if you let them." The campus green opened up before them through the line of finely kept willows. "My brother's need my help. I need to go back to New York." Elias scoffed.

"Let them help themselves." He hitched his duffel around his arms like a backpack. "Besides-" He inserted. "You have a date."

"I have a what." He asked dryly.

"A blind date!" Elias proclaimed, his left eyes wandered while his right trained on Raphael's deadpan response. "I know a girl."

"Why are you giving her to me, then." Through another set of columns they reached the parkinglot. It stretched far with cars; Raphael made a beeline for the far side. His own bike gleamed with noon light. His heart purred like an engine at the site of her. That was the only girl he needed. "Seems like any lizard that doesn't meet your 'strict' standards won't exactly appease me." The lizards' tail curled and he laughed.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. This one's…" Raphael reached his bike and set his bag on the seat. "Ah- she's not my type."

"Which means she's mine."

"Definitely!" Elias proclaimed, feeling he had hit something. "She is so your type." He droned. "She's hot, and funny, and smart, she knows all her capitals-"

"So does a seven year old."

"Yeah, but you won't go to jail for sleeping with her." Stretching the elastic bands to strap his bag to the back, Raphael paused.

"Wait, you're saying if I go out with her…"

"Well…" Elias's eyes rolled slower. "You never know." Raphael sighed and saddled his bike, beginning the engine. "Come on! Just tonight?! Then you can go back to New York with your brothers and have your turtle family contra dance or whatever you guys do up there!" Raphael revved the engine. "I already told her you'd meet her! She's expecting you!" Scowling, he pulled out of the parking lane past his friend. "Outside the old historical society at eight! You're going to a movie!"

"No!" Raphael swung the bike around and reeled out of the parking lot.

"She's hoooooooot!" Elias wailed in the background.