Donatello was wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a chair in his lab. His friends dorm had been flooded, so it was currently being drained and dried. Donnie occasionally heard Raph and Casey laughing in the living room, through the hallway, and it was killing him internally. Donatello couldn't bare it. He didn't.. He..
Just had to get the sound out of his ears.
So he stood up and put the 'WARNING' sign on the garage door of the lab before closing it. That became the usual warning for Michelangelo and the others to not disturb so Donatello wouldn't accidentally hurt himself during experiments, nor blow up the lair. But recently it became Donatello's safety. Blocking out outside smells, sounds, sight. He slid on his headphones in case, blasting Ashnikko as he slid his goggles down. And with a few zaps, he was already up by the Shellraiser and tapping new features to it. Melting the screws and wraps that held it together for better security.
Casey went out on patrol, having heard word of more mutants scurrying around dangerous places. He was mainly looking for members of a new clan he recently discovered with Mike, a clan inspired off of the Foot. Though it seemed more like a cult, with how they always seemed to pray towards something. He had a hockey stick in hand, keeping his guard up. Casey was just here to observe. Trying to be like Donnie, since he didn't want to leave his turtle shell to go out and breathe some normal ass air.
He's been so stuck-up and cocky lately. Jones thought, twirling the stick in his hands slowly, trying to replicate what Donatello does. Maybe he should get into Bōjitsu to look cooler with the hockey stick.
A trash can fell from an alleyway, a rattle scurrying across the dark pavement. He leaned over the edge, glaring at a small rat with a can ring stuck around its body. A cat was chasing it, and ended up pulling the ring off of the rat. Allowing it to escape.
A blow of wind passed, and Casey froze. Glancing behind him cautiously, raising the flat end of the stick towards a figure. Before seeing Mike raise his hands innocently, looking anxiously at the stick.
"Just me, Case.." Michelangelo spoke slowly, hesitantly pushing the end of the stick in a different direction with one finger. As if it were a knife or sharp object. And with that, Casey lowered his hold.
"What are you doing here?" He asked with a gentle smile, and Mikes own smile widened twenty times the size.
"Donatello said you'd be here. I wanted to hang out! Like old times! Even if nobody else is out anymore. It's weird without Leo here." He groaned, smile fading as he leaned on a railing, arms crossed.
Casey watched curiously, feeling a faint sadness in his chest as he put his hockey stick away. A frown formed on his face as he watched the street below them. A soft wind brushed past, and cars honked in the distance.
"Everything's changed. Everything's different. I am happy, and I'm glad everyone else is now. But it's still weird. It's weird going outside.. Having people notice me and not scream or yell.. It's a dream come true. Now Halloween isn't the only time I can fit in somewhat.. But it still feels off. Once mutants became accepted, everything's gone haywire in paradise. Am I not being grateful? Our leader, Leo, my eldest brother, has gone off to college for film and acting. Raph doesn't go out as often at night now.. I have teenaged friends I visit at the skatepark every morning, with a middle schooler to gets out of school at 2pm and immediately heads to the skatepark. Everyone's moved on. You're with Raphael now, and Donatello barely exits some stuffy room. Donatello used to be so.. Smiley, grumpy.. He wasn't ever so.. Gloomy. He despises everything he used to love now pretty much. Doesn't that seem off at all to anyone? Why doesn't anyone care? Where the hell is April nowadays?" Mike complained, tears forming in his eyes as he ranted. A soft sniffle echoing lightly in the cold air.
Casey stepped forward and rubbed Mike's carapace. It usually helped calm Michelangelo, or Leonardo. Both of them were like most turtles Casey's met before, though these two were mutant. Turtles seem to love their shells scratched, it's feels nice to them.
Mikey wiped his face and swallowed, staring at the street. "Why did things have to change?"
"I don't know."
"Why.?"
I don't know.
...
