The Adventures Of Azure Turtle

One Fateful Day

Chapter 1: Death And A New Life

By: Azure Turtle

Disclaimer: Azure is my own created character. Please do not use him without my permission. All TMNT characters belong to Peter Laird, Kevin Eastman, and Mirage Publishing.

I’m just a fan who wants to express my enthusiasm for the TMNT through fanfics. Please don’t hurt me.

A sickening thud echoed throughout the dark, damp sewers as my attacker’s fist connected with my jaw. A cry escaped my lips as I fell to the ground; blood dribbled down the corner of my mouth. I looked up at him with pleading eyes, but there was no mercy shown. I was repeatedly and viciously attacked; I tried desperately to protect myself but the sensation of pain spread like shockwaves throughout my bruised and broken body. I gazed at the eyes of my attacker and saw the fear and hatred behind them. Why was this happening to me? If only Sal were still alive. Yes, Sal would never let something like this happen to me. My vision became blurry as tears burned the corners of my eyes.

It all happened so fast. For sixteen years, good ol’ Sal had taken me in, and raised me as if I were his own son. And now, the only father, parent, family member, I’ve ever had was gone. Taken from this world by a freak storm all because he was trying to make a living. He worked hard to put food on the table for both of us, and I felt ashamed that I couldn’t help him earn any money. And now he was gone. No “good byes,” no “farewells.” I didn’t even have the chance to thank him for everything he did for me, or to tell him that I loved him. He was the only one who could love a “freak” like me, a mutant …… turtle. Neither fully human nor fully turtle, nature never intended to create me. He found me on the beach, unconscious, starving, and close to death. Why he took me in, I’ll never know. Sal was like that, a simple fisherman with a heart of gold and a zest for life. And now he was gone. I’ll never forget that dreaded day, when I heard on the news that the entire crew of the Baroness was killed in one of the worst storms to hit the Atlantic in years. I cried for an eternity. Then, I came to realize that our home would be gone in a matter of days and that my life would never be the same. I had no one to go to. Sal never had a family, except for me. He ran away from his abusive father and elusive mother as a vagabond and a dreamer, hoping to make a good living in the Big Apple. Instead, he became a simple fisherman. God, I still remember that gentle look in his eyes when he’d proudly call me “son.” Sal deserved better, but he never got a break. It wasn’t fair. Only a few of his poker buddies attended his funeral. I watched from afar, hiding behind a large statue of Saint Michael, the guardian angel. I remember gazing up at that angel’s unmoving face and asking why this was happening, but there was no response. I was alone.

A few days after Sal’s funeral, our small apartment was purchased by a young couple with a single daughter, who was only a tot. They were so happy. It reminded me of all the wonderful memories I had of Sal, but I knew I couldn’t hang around much longer. Sal was gone. My home was gone. I would have to learn to fend for myself.

I lived on the streets for weeks, eating from dumpsters and sleeping in gang-infested parks. Luckily, Sal had bought me a cloak before he passed away. He wanted me to get out more often during the daylight, instead of waiting for the cover of nightfall to see the city. I’m grateful for the cloak. I’d be dead for sure if I didn’t have it to cover my grotesque features.

While I lived on the streets, I heard rumors from various thugs about a gang of four freaks who went around dressed as giant turtles while fighting crime at the same time. Most people scoffed at the rumors, but, bizarre as they were, I started to believe them. I wanted to know who exactly these “freaks” were. I wanted to meet them, to be with other “freaks.” I gathered as much information as I could about this strange gang from thugs, prostitutes, homeless people, and anyone else who had something to say about this gang.

I remember one prostitute, Sally, who gave me a tip to check the sewers. She used to be the main “lady” of a powerful gang leader. One day, while she was out walking with him and several of his cronies, they ran into a rival gang and a battle ensued. She hid behind a dumpster during the battle when suddenly, almost out of nowhere, the fearsome group of four attacked every gangster in the vicinity. They left without a trace, seeming to fade into the night. But Sally fervently told me that she distinctly heard the sound of a manhole cover being closed. Even stranger was the fact that she was convinced the “freaks” weren’t wearing costumes. She insisted that she caught a glimpse of one of them and said that he was, indeed, a giant turtle. I decided to investigate. Call me crazy for following some hooker’s drug-induced story, but I was desperate. If there was even the slightest possibility of finding others like me, then I had to take a chance. I was alone, and I didn’t want to be alone any longer.

A kick to my mid-section suddenly sent me careening back to the present. I now wished that I never listened to that crazed prostitute. I searched the sewers like she suggested, and I did find a freak. Unfortunately, he wasn’t one of the freaks I was searching for. He was covered in black; hell, he looked like a ninja and attacked with such speed and power. I don’t even know why he was attacking me, but his anger and hatred were apparent. Maybe he didn’t like getting visits from other freaks. A damn shame, since I bet we could’ve been best friends had he not decided to punch me in the face after I said “hi.” Another kick, more fierce than the first, sent me sprawling several feet backwards.

“This is it,” I thought. “He’s gonna kill me just because he wants to. Looks like I’ll be seeing you sooner than I planned, Sal.” My world became unstable as colors whirled and mixed with one another. I felt sick. “I should’ve never listened to that crazy bitch,” I muttered. My world started to buck and sway beneath me. I managed to make out the shape of my attacker, still covered in black, slowly approaching me. I tried to get up, but my body betrayed me and I collapsed on my back. Suddenly, the colors became darker. A shadow loomed over me. I used every ounce of my remaining energy to strain my eyes and take a glimpse at this new stranger. Everything was blurry now, but I managed to discern that there was, indeed, someone standing over me. He looked vaguely familiar. “Saint Michael?” I whispered in shock. Then it was over. The colors slowly faded away, and my world became black as death.