violet's writing dump

To Be a Hero | TMNT 2012

≫ Summary: On his way to be mutated, Timothy thinks about his choice and why he's making it.

≫ Notes: Takes place during the episode The Pulverizer Returns. This was meant to be a chapter in my Hazel-centric fanfic; I'm not sure if I'll ever get around to writing the full story, hence why I'm sharing bits of it here. It was fun getting into Tim's mind and putting my own spin on his character, so I hope you enjoy!

***

Wind batters Timothy's face, blowing his hair into his eyes, and he shifts with discomfort. The motorbike he's currently tied to speeds through the city's empty streets, part of a caravan of Foot Clan members. They're heading for a warehouse on Broom Street in the Bowery, on the way to conduct a mutagen experiment that's sure to be unlike anything any of them have ever seen.

The coolest part? He's going to be the subject.

Despite the nerves fluttering through his body, Timothy can't help but grin. If someone told him a week ago that he'd be riding with a fleet of ninja motorcyclists at two in the morning on his way to get transformed into a super mutant, he would've laughed in in their face. But this is reality—epic, unbelievable reality. The experiment is top-secret; he was ordered not to tell anyone about it, not even his mom or his best friend. He can't help but feel a little guilty, knowing they're probably wondering where he is, but it'll all be worth it when he shows back up a changed man. Or...super man? Will be even be a man at all, or something better?

His grin expands into a smile. He hopes it's something better.

Donatello had practically begged him not to go through with this. And...okay, so maybe this is a bit of a reckless decision, but the opportunity had presented itself and he just couldn't have turned it down. Once he transforms, there's no telling what he might become, what he might be capable of. Maybe he'll be ultra-smart like Donatello or Dr. Blip from Super Robo Mecha Force Five!, or über-strong like Raphael or Crognard the Barbarian. He imagines crowds of adoring fans screaming his name, wearing his super suit as a costume, his face plastered on posters and his likeness made into action figures. What should he call himself then? Pulverizer II? Ultra Pulverizer? The possibilities are endless and it gives him goosebumps just thinking about it.

As amazing has having a legion of dedicated fans sounds, Timothy wants so much more than that. More than anything, he wants to prove to the world that he's more than the boneheaded kid everyone thinks he is. When he mutates, he'll no longer be dumb, dorky, loser Timothy, the stupid kid who trips over his own shoelaces and is barely passing high school, but someone far superior. Maybe then people will treat him with a little more kindness. Maybe then he'll be someone his mother can be proud of, and he can use his powers to provide for her, just like she has for him all these years. Maybe then his dad, wherever he is now, will see his greatness and regret walking out on them.

Maybe then he'll finally hear the words "I'm proud of you".

The boy coughs as the stench of gasoline and exhaust fumes assaults his nostrils. He wrinkles his nose, deciding to distract himself with thoughts of something more pleasant.

The first thing that comes to mind is her.

He sees the mane of chocolate curls he could spend all day running his fingers through, and how he could if he wanted to because he's the only one in the world she lets touch it. Those striking green eyes she swears are weird and unnerving but he thinks are beautiful and unique. The cute round nose and full lips he can never fully look away from when she speaks to him. He sees her, all of her, and his face heats up and his heart flutters. His Hazel Marie.

Most people would consider having a big fat crush on their best friend a curse, but not Timothy. How could it be when there's so much to love about her? She's smart and fun and kind when she's not acting all nonchalant, and driven, too, always working to make her dreams come true. She knows exactly what she wants and won't ever stop trying to get it, never caring what anyone else has to say. She's so special in her own way—she may not see it, but he does, in the way her curls bounce and her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs and in the way she gets laser-focused when she's in journalist mode.

She never believes him when he tries to tell her. Not that he blames her—he wouldn't listen to a loser like him, either—but all that is bound to change when he goes from zero to hero. Won't she be blown away by his mutation! How could she resist him then? He can picture it now: he shows up, sweeps her off her feet with his wicked new powers, and bam, instant girlfriend. He imagines himself flying her around the city or wowing her with super strength, her knowing that she was worth being mutated for, and smiles.

He wants to be good enough for her. He wants to be someone she can be proud to call hers.

Timothy is once again jerked from his thoughts as the bike skids to an abrupt stop—they've reached the warehouse. He swallows, skin prickling and heart racing. 

This is it, Timothy. Stay cool.

The wicked-looking fish mutant tromps toward him, procuring a pocket knife and slashing through his bindings in one swift movement. Before Timothy can even blink, he seizes him with a scaly hand and leads him into the warehouse, where a group of Foot soldiers and a hulking dog mutant await them. Timothy swallows at the sight of its enormous size, but his fear quickly turns to fascination when he lays eyes on what else is there. An enormous tank of ooze with a lever attached—mutagen, no doubt about it—towers over all of them just a few feet away, bathing the room in eerie green glow. Timothy stares at it with wide eyes.

"Get the volunteer directly under the mutagen," the dog orders in a deep, raspy voice.

The fish mutant drags Timothy forward. Timothy stares at him—powerful robotic legs, sharp fangs, all awesomeness–and his excitement grows.

CRASH!

The sound of glass shattering fills the room. Donatello comes barreling through the warehouse window on his stealth bike, leaping from the vehicle in midair. Timothy grunts as he crashes into him, knocking him away from the mutagen and sending them both tumbling into a pile of crates.

"Get them!" The dog-guy barks.

The next few minutes are a blur. Timothy is aching from the collision, Donatello is screaming at him not to pull that lever, and then his brothers are there, clashing with the Foot soldiers in a flurry of shouts and kick-butt combat moves. Timothy watches them in awe. Soon enough he'll be just like them, powerful and capable and utterly extraordinary.

The dog mutant lands in front of him, and Timothy flinches as his beady, blood-red eyes land on him. He snarls, teeth bared, and the boy stumbles back as he starts toward him.

Now's my chance.

"Okay, big...dog...man...thing! You asked for it!" he shouts. "My mutation!"

He turns and dashes for the vat of mutagen, skidding to a halt in front of it. Up close, he can feel its radiation—pulsing, murmuring, beckoning him closer. Every nerve in his body feels like a live wire as he grabs the lever and yanks it. This is it, he thinks. Time to level up. Time to prove everyone wrong.

Donatello yells something, but he doesn't hear it over the pounding of his heart in his ears as the mutagen rains down on him. It reminds him of Hazel's eyes, green and brilliant and glowing.

This is gonna be so. Cool.

He smiles wide and spreads his arms, ready for his life to change.