ROTTMNT Stuff (And Some 2k12)

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"C'mon. . . There's four theaters left, maybe- maybe we could finish with them and-"
"Leo, we have to take a break. Mikey already fell asleep, April's getting worried because we aren't textin' back, and pops still doesn't even know where we are." Raphael stated, resting a hand on the slider's shoulder.
"No- no just- just a few more please- Please Raph- He could be hurt. . What if- what if he is in one of the places-? What- what if-"
"Leo. . ."
"No! We can't just leave him, like you said, Mikey could be right! What if he is at one of them? What if they're about to move soon?!"
". . . Fine. We'll check two more, but after that we're taking a break."
"Deal-"
"I'll start drivin'. ."

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If he calculated right (which he had), it was ten minutes 'till the next performance. And if he was calculating right. . About 1 hour until the puppetification would be complete. (Give or take)

By this point all four limbs had been solidified in wood and metal, his torso beginning to shift into said doll-like form. He swears that, underneath the pain from his joints and the fiery anguish of his limbs, he could distantly feel his insides shift. Seeming to rearrange to fit the correct dimensions of his puppetification. Thankfully, since most of his organs didn't have pain receptors, it was nothing more than just shifting feelings. . For the organs, that is. He could feel his muscles stiffen, his nerves and tendons practically going numb with pain as they conformed to the new build. His eyes, he had noticed, took on an eery pink glow. As if to represent the mysticism used within the rods. Or as a further mockery to his image.

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"Alright Leo, we checked the two theaters like we agreed. They aren't there, let's just go home and rest up for a little."
"But—"
"Leo, I'm sure they wouldn't leave so soon. We can check tomorrow." He assured, resting a hand on the sliders shoulder. "We need sleep."
Suddenly, Leo's phone began buzzing, startling the two before Leo promptly yanked it from his fanny pack.
"Yeah pops??" Leo asked eagerly, maybe Donnie had made it home?

"Boys! Why is purple on T.V.?"
"What? What do you mean he's on T.V.?!"
"He's on the theater channel! I just wanted to watch my shows! Though I must say, I didn't know he could dance so well."
"WHAT?! Raph step on it now! I guess we are going home afterall!"
"On it!" He slammed his foot on the gas, promptly jolting the tank forward and speeding down the street towards the correct manhole cover.

The two barged in, Raph carrying a still somehow sleeping Mikey.
"Where?! Let me see!" Leo practically screamed, sprinting into the living room and in front of the T.V.

A deafening silence washed over the lair, Leo's eyes widening with horror as his ears began ringing uncontrollably loud. Wh- What the hell. . ?

He spotted his twin up on stage, the camera zoomed in to show the full performance. His face was. . Petrified, to say the least. A clear look of agony washing over him as his limbs moved. They were stiff, yet somehow graceful movements, as if to tell some sort of story. The slider hadn't known, nor cared what the story was, just that there was an oddly familiar purple liquid spraying from the softshell's mouth every once in a while. The same liquid trickling down his jaw and onto his plastron. The drops were all over the stage, as if it was sprayed with a Windex bottle over, and over. His eyes held an odd pink glow, as if there was a neon pink glowstick behind his iris. His arms and legs seemed to have- well- seams, at the joints. They had an odd texture, with faint lines like a sanded down plank. His colour seemed dulled out in those same areas, too. Like it was a completely different material than the rest of his form. It was creeping up his plastron and sides, as if the final destination was meant to be the head.