|
|
Post by RenaRoo121 on Apr 14, 2010 20:58:46 GMT -5
When he rolled over to see a haze over his head, Michelangelo knew that the Lair must have had a steam pipe burst or Donatello had caused some sort of explosion.
The heat was unbearable. He couldn't even believe that he was in his room. It was much more like a sauna: anything but his room, that was for sure.
There was no mistake, though. He was there and he was being baked alive. He groaned and rolled out of his bed, finding it damp with the hazy dew. The turtle could have sworn he was sweating by that point.
"Oh, my head!" he groaned as he stumbled out of his room, gripping to the edges of his mask. "I feel like someone hit me over the head last night! Sheesh!"
He shook his head. What weird dreams he had that night. They were all about him, his brothers, sometimes his father, sometimes other people and creatures. Everyone looked so familiar yet so foreign. If he saw them while he was awake he would have never recognized them but there, in his dreams, they felt right.
They felt like his friends.
"Geeze! Donny! What's up with the heat!?" he cried out as he dragged himself through the Lair, wiping his wet brow against his forearm.
He knew why it was hot, though. He had always sort of known. New York and, in effect, most of the world, was experiencing a heat wave unlike anything it had ever seen before. It was sultry and unbelievable.
Coming through the Lair, Mike looked around curiously. "Hey, is anyone awake? Let's get some A C in here!"
|
|
|
|
Post by lost frequencies on Apr 19, 2010 18:10:11 GMT -5
Not only was Splinter trying to adjust to the rising heat underground, but to the confusing splash of colours surrounding him as he was kneeling in the middle of a strange-looking lair, hyperventilating.
The place seemed familiar though it was much hotter and a lot more...pretentious-looking with its high-tech facilities, spaciousness and indescribable cleanliness. Splinter had never seen a lair so blessed with such material comforts before.
In his blurry vision, he could see one of his sons emerging from his room in search of his brothers. And from the tone of his voice, Splinter could immediately tell that he was indeed, Michelangelo.
He didn't know how he had ended up in the realm of the "multi-coloured headband turtles" but they were the ones his sons had spoken highly of since that incident in their world two weeks ago.
"Michel--" Splinter heaved, his black and white self in desperate need of the one donning the orange mask. "Michelangelo!"
|
|
|
|
Post by RenaRoo121 on Apr 20, 2010 6:34:46 GMT -5
The cry of urgency was something that even in his goofiest state Michelangelo could not ignore. It was his father and he sounded raspy, like his voice had been squeezed through a grinder, and panicked. It was frightfully similar to how his father sounded in their final battle with the Utrom Shredder, when there was no hope for escape.
The very thought send tremors down the loose, chuckle-head turtle's shell. Any hope he had of jubilantly annoying his brothers was immediately gone and instead he found himself clamoring toward the origin of his father's voice.
"Master Splinter!?" he called out in horror before coming across a section of the Lair.
It was smoldering, like someone had turned a furnace on in its area and left the flame to consume everything and everyone in its path. It nearly made Mike's eyelids shrink up at the sheer heat.
There Michelangelo came to a stop, not taken back by the heat, but by the black and white mass that was huddled where the heat was the worse. It looked like a giant black rat.
That didn't make any sense, though. Master Splinter was a gray rat.
"Master Splinter?" he question in genuine confusion. "You're... black."
Under any normal circumstances Mike would have leaped all over an opportunity like that. It was a statement that seemed to seethe with jokes on its own, but he could not pay attention to that at the time.
Of all the impostors, robots, and clones that he and his brothers had spent their time facing, one would have thought that Michelangelo would have been more cautious when approaching the black rat master. However, something within Mike knew it was okay.
Despite his own mental image of Splinter, Mike knew that this black and white creature was Splinter, too, albeit a much sharper and heavily blotted one. Mike felt like he had known this Splinter his entire life, too.
He quickly knelt down and threw one of Splinter's arms over his shoulders. "Don't worry, Sensei, I'll get you over to the kitchen's fan!"
With that, the turtle-son began to move the elderly father toward the room across the hall, his eyes continuously shifting over his father's body, checking him just in case.
He looked... almost like he came out of another world. A very familiar world.
|
|
|
|
Post by lost frequencies on Apr 20, 2010 12:09:06 GMT -5
The last thing he remembered was being alone with nature in the Northampton woods. His sons and their friends, Casey and April were in the midst of preparing dinner when he ventured past an invisible barrier and into the heat of a merging realm.
He remembered light. White light, consuming every inch of his existence. Him, calling out in vain and stretching out his arms towards them. They could not sense him anymore.
Then all seemed right with the world again as the orange-masked Michelangelo stood alongside him and carried him off towards a much cooler place in the lair.
"We have to get out of here," the old rat whispered while feeling too disoriented to even utter a word of thanks. He felt the cool air blowing in his face though it wasn't enough to soothe his troubled mind and heart.
"Where are your brothers, Michelangelo?"
[OOC: LMAO @ Mikey's comment on Mirage Splinter]
|
|
|
|
Post by RenaRoo121 on Apr 20, 2010 20:40:57 GMT -5
To the turtle's great dismay, rushing into the kitchen was not enough to escape the heat. The fans they had put up in the city's heat wave were enough to make the room somewhat less sultry than the rest of the Lair, particularly where Splinter had been, but it did not keep Mike from feeling like his mouth was arid.
In fact, had he not known any better, he would have thought that the Lair was getting hotter by the minute. But that was impossible, at least naturally impossible it was.
Sure, the city was suffering, along with most of the civilized world, from a tumultuous heat wave but to think that it was rising so exponentially was a terrifying but implausible thought.
Wasn't it?
"Get out?" he finally questioned his father's thinking before setting him down by the fan, finding his green skin perking up to feeling of air. He rubbed his forehead. "To where?"
In a small moment of brilliance, Michelangelo raced to the refrigerator and opened up its doors, only for him to find that there was no cool air to be found: only the smell of spoiled foods and sour milk. He crinkled his beak at the blast of fermenting aromas and slammed the doors shut.
"The others?" he asked before turning back to the black rat and tilting his head to the side. "While that's a very good question, Sensei, I kinda have to ask... when you ask about my brothers do you mean my brothers or the four lean, mean, green machines you know? Because I'm kinda confused. I mean... you're Splinter but you're not... my Splinter. Or are you?" he rubbed his head.
He knew he should have been taking this situation a little less in stride but it was simply so hot that his brain would not accept more than one thought at once. Currently, Michelangelo's only thought was on the fact that it was so damn hot!
Swallowing, the turtle let out a strange, inhuman noise and shook his head, it almost felt like his tongue had gotten caught in his throat! The air was so thick from its humidity he felt his lungs rejecting the hot gas that came into them.
"This couldn't possibly get any worse!" he moaned just before all the lights and other electrical appliances went out.
|
|
|
|
Post by lost frequencies on Apr 21, 2010 3:47:27 GMT -5
It was only then when Splinter realised that the staff in his hand was not the one he was accustomed to. It was much heavier, sturdy, and was certainly not made of wood.
It started to glow.
"Impossible," uttered the old rat with a puzzling look on his face.
Their overheated bodies were now illuminated by a blue light emanating from the small glass orb of the staff.
It grew brighter and brighter, as though waiting to be summoned.
Having been distracted by the sudden flash of white light and being trapped in the suffocating heat earlier, Splinter hadn't the slightest chance to even notice the peculiar-looking staff in his hand.
It was none other than Lord Simultaneous' Time Sceptre!
But the old rat had never seen anything like it.
If only he knew what the sceptre was truly capable of.
If only.
|
|
|
|
Post by RenaRoo121 on Apr 21, 2010 5:46:37 GMT -5
To be honest, Mike was not all that surprised when things got worse. "Of course," he muttered with an unseen scowl on his face and a cross of his arms.
The fan was off, the power was off, the fridge - while it had admittedly done little to help to begin with - was dead and Mike had the sickening feeling that they were about to smother in their own home.
Oh, what delicious irony. The only place in the world they were supposed to genuinely feel safe in and if they didn't get out of it soon they were probably going to be buried in it.
He did not know whether to laugh or to cry.
"I think it's safe to assume that the others aren't in here if they're not running around like chickens with their heads cut off!" he moaned before freezing. "What the shell? When have I ever said that saying?"
It was a good question but he found it didn't matter all that much when he heard Master Splinter's utterance and saw the strange, blue tint over his own body.
Blinking, Mike turned and looked at his father. He stared at the staff in the old rat's hand and felt a strange feeling of nostalgia. Oh, yes. He knew what that was.
"Master Splinter? Uh... well, someone's Master Splinter?" he said before pointing at the object. "Where did you get that? Because I have the bad feeling that it's probably not supposed to be here."
Slowly, however, an idea unveiled itself to him and Michelangelo rushed forward, looking to the rat. "Master Splinter! I think we can use this to get us - and whoever else's still in here - out of the Lair. Or something like that. It's kinda like a magic staff - do you think you can use it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by lost frequencies on Apr 21, 2010 6:07:49 GMT -5
Splinter was finding it hard to focus in this situation where his aging, mutant body was deteriorating beneath this sweltering pressure.
His mind was filled with so many questions but Splinter had neither the stamina nor patience to keep up with this any longer.
The old rat could only think of home, the Northhampton woods, the cool air, his sons. His eyelids felt heavy and his mind was slowly drifting towards the dark oblivion.
He couldn't do it. He was too weak to do anything at all!
Like how he had succumbed to the Rat King, he kept telling himself that he should not fail this test. Despite the fact that he was burning inside, he attempted to pull himself up with the staff.
"Michelangelo--" he said, between laboured breaths. "If you believe you so, then..."
He shoved the Time Sceptre into his son's hands.
"Use it!"
The old rat groaned, and he collapsed.
|
|
|
|
Post by RenaRoo121 on Apr 21, 2010 6:45:09 GMT -5
The artifact was shoved onto him before he could even think to respond. Mike hadn't wanted the responsibility for himself, that was for sure. He was hoping to rely on his master, or, well, some other version of him's master.
After all, the whole mystic side to ninja kick-butt fighting and what not was almost always something that Master Splinter took upon himself. Only on rare occasions would the mantle be handed to Leonardo but almost never would it be entrusted to Michelangelo.
Sure he was the Battle Nexus Champion but that was a physical title! Wasn't it?
He didn't get long to think on it, though, as Splinter suddenly fell to the ground in a sweaty mass. Michelangelo was stunned. His father had passed out in the pressure cooker of a lair.
"Master Splinter!" he shouted before shaking his head. He immediately regretted the outburst for he suddenly found himself dizzy and disoriented. Was he to succumb to the heat, too?
He looked to the Time Scepter. "If you can't stand the heat..." he muttered before swallowing dryly. "Get outta the kitchen!"
Closing his eyes, Michelangelo clutched to the scepter and bit his lip. It had to work. It just had to work!
The blue light grew and seemed to consume their bodies.
Across the Lair even Klunk found himself enveloped in the cooling light of Lord Simultaneous' Time Scepter and dipped into a glowing chasm which was to take them far from the heated Lair.
|
|
