𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

Ch. 6: The not so obvious

These past three days? Boring. And no, I'm not exaggerating. Actually... let me stop myself before I say something I'll regret.

School's been the same old routine—study for the big math exam. I mean, I can study, and I'm great at math. Doesn't mean I like it, though. I'm just naturally good at a lot of things.

cough For validation cough.

Let's see... I play the saxophone, shoot arrows like a pro, dance, sing, design, cook, babysit, handle weapons, fight, drive, crochet, and dominate in basketball, soccer, and tennis. I do gymnastics, garden, draw, invent, experiment with science—the list goes on.

Why do I do all of this? Because it's nice when people notice me. When they say, "Wow, you're amazing!" or "I wish I could do that!" It feels good. Mostly, I do it for my parents. Too bad they don't care.

People say I'm "lucky" to have such laid-back, "cool" parents. Sure, I love them, but they never really see me. I'll spend hours perfecting something incredible, and all they ever say is, "Pretty nice."

Pretty nice? That's it? I could build a rocket launcher from scratch, and it wouldn't even register. My dad's always "busy" on his laptop, and my mom barely acknowledges me. Sometimes, I wonder if I'd even be missed if I disappeared.

But I'm not stupid. I know better than to give in to thoughts like that. So I stay. Lonely? Yeah. Angry? Definitely. But I stay.

I glance at the clock: 10:12 p.m. Hmm... maybe I should get out for a bit. Clear my head.

I grab my helmet, zip up my suit, and hop on my motorbike. The bunker door opens, and I zoom into the quiet city streets. It's nice out tonight.

When I park, I press a button, and the bike cloaks itself. Still there, just invisible. I take out my grappling hook and launch myself onto the rooftop of a tall building.

Sitting on the edge, I dangle my feet over the side and stare at the purple and blue sky. It's peaceful, but my thoughts aren't.

I glance down at my hands, fidgeting with my thumbs. Then I hear something—loud noises coming from an alley.

I lean forward and peek over the edge.

Oh. Great. Them.

The turtles, Zoey, and April. And they're fighting... a mutant kangaroo? Seriously? It's huge, and judging by the way it just launched Zoey into a dumpster and swept three turtles off their feet with its tail, they're struggling.

"HAHAHA! Now you'll pay for what you did to me!" the kangaroo taunts, stepping closer to them.

My instincts scream at me to intervene, but my brain argues back. Don't. Last time they saw you, they tried to kill you.

Then Zoey groans from the dumpster, and the kangaroo raises its fists to strike again.

I sigh. Of course.

Jumping off the ledge, I land square on the kangaroo's shoulders and stab it in the eye with my plasma dagger. It howls in pain and grabs me, hurling me across the alley.

Mid-air, I press a button on my utility belt. My machine gun flies out from my bunker and into my hands. I unload a few rounds into the kangaroo's arms, forcing it to retreat.

"GAHH! I'll destroy you next time, turtles!" it shouts before disappearing into the shadows.

I land back on my feet and dust myself off. When I look up, everyone's staring at me like I've grown a second head.

Donnie's POV:

What. The. Heck.

Is this seriously happening? Did she—the vigilante we fought—just save us? I can't wrap my head around it.