TMNT and all their cuteness is not mine, it is Mirage's. Happy Memorial Day.

Six

"Well, no time like the present," he said to himself. He got up and went in search of the kids, searching the other bedroom and the bathroom, and then he found his way into the dojo.

"Hey! Kiddies! It's your uncle Mick!" he smiled, trying to make his voice all sweet. "You know, the friend of yer daddy's. I really need to take you to him now. I know yer in there, but we ain't got time to keep playin' hide and seek. Come on out sos we can go see yer daddy."

He stood in the open doorway, looking around. It was dark in there, despite the light from the living room- the dojo lights were out, and the glow from the one light in the living room could only illuminate the immediate area by the door. The man stood in the dark room and quickly found the light switch. He flipped it on-

"KYYYYYAAAA!"

A high-pitched shout, and suddenly pillows were flying at the startled man. Before he could see what was happening, he was being hit with something made of foam, and being kicked and punched on the legs!

The foam things and the pillows kept getting in his face, but he knew that the attackers were just kids. He lashed out with a hand- and was blocked!

DAMN! One of the foam things poked his eye, and he cursed loudly as he was temporarily blinded. The attacks intensified; lots of shouting and kicking and punching of his legs; one lucky shot caught him behind the knee, causing him to momentarily buckle and almost lose his balance.

Winking away the watery sting of his eye, he finally got a good look at what he was up against-

What the hell!

Green children! Strange green children, crying and kicking and running and hitting, dodging his questing hands, his own kicking feet!

Green children!

He grabbed yet again for one of the strange green children and managed to capture one, picking him up bodily to face level.

A shell! He was holding onto some sort of shell! At first he had thought it was some costume or something, but as this kid kept twisting and shouting and flailing his legs, he realized that he was holding the biggest turtle he had ever seen in his entire life!

"Let him go! Let him go!" the others were screaming, kicking and punching and doing what they could against the man. But now that the initial shock was over with, he could afford to ignore the rest of them. All he could think of was the money he was surely going to pocket over a discovery like this! Turtle Children! Holy mother of God! This was the jackpot, no mistake about it!

Michelangelo never let go of his pool noodle. He kept shouting and hitting the man in the face and around the head, while the man tried to kick the others away, and examining this find more closely.

"You kids are gonna make me the richest man in the world!" he chuckled threateningly, grinning into the frightened turtle's face.

Michelangelo kept twisting and turning and thrashing and kicking, and everyone was yelling and hitting and crying, but the man just laughed. This was a piece of cake! He would be so rich that no one would ever touch him again! He was gonna be-

THWACK!

"... gah-nnnnnnngghhH!"

One of the captured turtle's little yet powerful feet made very crippling and painful contact, causing the man to drop to his knees, and Michelangelo fell backwards onto the dojo floor. But he was up in a flash, and the four of them went running out of the room, heading for the front door-

The man, gasping and cursing, followed- and found himself face to face with-

I was halfway to my exit when I heard the distant thunder echoing from above. The lights flickered in the tunnel, but stayed on. The noise was such that I could judge that this was more of a storm than I wanted to be out in. After a few minutes hesitation, I decided to wait to do my scavenging.

I turned around and headed home, noting the rising water as the runoff began to make its way down here. I hoped that I would not have to unclog any of the surrounding tunnels. It had been a while since we had had a large storm, and I was fairly certain that the channels were not obstructed between my home and the drainage junction. We should not have to worry about-

Faintly, screams came to me. I froze, twitching my straining ears, trying to catch the echoes of what I thought I had heard.

The sound of the sewers, of the distant thunder, of the countless background noises competed for my attention, but I tuned them out, listening, listening...

I had just begun to think I had imagined it, when it sounded out again- screams- yells- cursing-

"My sons!"

I ran, oh how I ran! Walking distance was about ten minutes, but I ran as fast as I could, splashing through the ever-rising water, dropping my sacks, my disguise, focusing on reaching my home!

I could hear the shouts clearly now, though the door was closed! I grabbed the knob, yanked the door open- and was met by my four sons, running for their lives right for the door-

- and my old "acquaintance" from above, in hot pursuit of my babies!

MY BABIES!

He pulled up short, staring in growing disbelief at my appearance.

"Oh, my God!" he barely said, and then, with a "my sons, run to my room!" I was upon the man, doing my best to beat him within an inch of his life!

My sons did not run just yet- while I was attacking from above, the turtles, bolstered no doubt by "Father's" return, were attacking from below- kicking, punching, biting, screaming words the man probably did not understand about "hiyah" and "keeyah" and "get the bad guy!" and "chop his head off!"

Somehow he managed to stagger out of the door, though I still had hold of him. My sons were right behind me, shouting and crying the entire time.

My would-be assailant was screaming and swearing at the same time and promising he'd never take drugs again as he broke my hold on him and started to run...

He was running away, but I was not not through with him. I had to get rid of this threat to my family, to make sure he would NEVER return to my home!

"My sons! Go to my room! NOW!" I shouted sternly, and this time they listened, vanishing back into our home. I slammed the door, then set out in pursuit of this evil being.

I chased him as far as I could. I had to make sure he would NEVER find his way back without losing myself in the process. Every time he slowed down, I would attack him again and again, and his fear drove him further and further until he finally thought to scramble up a ladder to street level.

I followed- it was dark, and we came out in an alley- the rain was pouring, and the lightning was closely followed by thunder- yet the man's screaming was even louder than the storm, and he soon drew attention to himself as he went running into the street shouting about GIANT RATS AND TURTLE KIDS!

I hid, watching, as a crowd of onlookers at first ignored him, then began to gather to watch in amusement as he stood there in the storm, trying to get people to follow him "into the sewers! They're crawlin' with giant rats that can do karate! And huge turtles, turtles that can talk and fight! C'mon! We gotta stop 'em before they take over!"

The police were on the scene in no time, and listened to him for approximately two minutes.

They arrested him.

"But it's true!" he kept howling, as the officers examined the bag of drugs they had found in his pocket.

They didn't even comment. They just locked him in the car and drove away.

I knew that we were safe.

When I returned home, I found the four of them in my room, where they were crowded under the bed, crying without making any sounds.

"My sons," I said, and I was immediately buried in turtles, crying loudly and holding on for dear life.

It was at least ten minutes of sobbing stories and hugs and kisses and other family business, and then they finally began to calm down.

"Where's the bad man?" Leo asked, sniffling as I wiped all their faces with a rag.

"He is gone," I assured him. "Father chased him far away out of the sewers, and the police have captured him."

"Is he gonna come back?" Donatello asked, clinging to me.

"No, he will not come back," I said. "I will not let him come back! You were very brave, my sons! Did he hurt you? Did he hurt any of you?"

"No," Raph said, "But he scared us! He said you was his frien', and to come out! But we didn't come out! Even when he broked the radio and ate up the food!"

"You were very smart," I hugged him. "But how did you end up fighting him?"

"I'm sorry," Donatello sniffed. "I tried to run outta the room an' he saw me I guess an' he found us inna dojo."

"Mikey was brave!" Leonardo told me, his grownup way of talking lately now lost in the moment. "He threw the pillows at the man and yelled, and and and the man was ascared! And then we all hitted him and yelled, and the man was yellin' and he grabbed Mikey-"

"Mikey hitted him with the 'sword'!" Donatello shouted, getting excited, and as I watched and listened they started to tell me of the battle when their brother was captured by the bad man and how they were all hitting him and how he tried to hit them but they never got hit once, not never!

"And then Mikey kicked him, and he turned a funny color and made a noise like you did when Mikey kicked you," Raphael finished up. "An' he dropped Mikey and we ran and then you came in and- and we helped you fight him- and- and-"

Realization dawned on four little faces.

"We- we fighted the bad guy- with Father," Michelangelo breathed, eyes round with surprise. "We fighted the bad guy with Father and safed the day! We's a team!"

"Does that mean- we're NINJA?" Leonardo gasped.

I laughed, and hugged all four as best as I could under the circumstances.

"Well, you certainly are Ninja at heart, my sons," I said, filled with such joy. "And yes, we fought the bad guy- as a team." And there was much sighing of satisfaction.

Eventually I persuaded the four of them to let go of me so we could go into the kitchen. I had to go with them room by room to show them that the bad man was gone, even taking them into the sewers a short distance to show them how the man's footprints were carrying him away quickly (Raphael was most fascinated, and immediately caught onto how I could tell that he was running. He will make a great tracker, I think.).

Then it was back to the safety of our home (Leonardo suggested that we get rid of the light across from our home, but I convinced him that it would be all right to leave it).

Though I usually was very careful with our supplies, I made a victory dinner that night, after cleaning up the mess our "visitor" had made- some precious chicken, and plenty of vegetables both cooked and raw (Michelangelo will eat raw carrots, not cooked), and I managed to bake a cake- and I let them stay up late. It was a shame about the radio, but I had hopes of finding another. Donatello was more than eager to see if he could "fix" it, but I persuaded him to wait until another time.

Bedtime was what I thought it would be- the memory of that man, of their first real encounter with the scary "outside world", influenced their reluctance to be alone in their room (though there were the four of them) with the lights off, so I gave in and carried the old rocking chair from my room to theirs, where I spent a few hours simply rocking in the glow of a night light. Each of them awoke at least once during the night, but my presence sent them back to deep slumber, and eventually I was able to retire to my own room, and get a few hours of much needed rest.

The next day they awoke me!

"Sensei!" Michelangelo was standing on my bed, his beak almost touching my nose, lifting one of my eyelids with a careful thumb. "It's time to train!"

I reached a lazy arm up and scooped him into a giggling hug- and was soon pounced upon by three others, wanting their share of Father's love.

"Today we will have a holiday," I said, snuggling with them all, and they seemed a bit disappointed- but only for a moment.

"I's sorry, Father," Michelangelo said, pulling off his bandana and tucking himself into my embrace. "I wished too hard to be a team. I wished for the bad guys to come here so we could fight them, and the bad man did come. I won't do it again."

"Oh, my son," I said, hugging him tightly, "you did not wish the bad man here. He just came. But he is gone! I know! We will go for a walk today! I found a wonderful place that we can go visit, and no one will see us! How does that sound?"

Evidently it sounded good to them, judging from the cheering. They rarely got to leave our home in those days, and it would help, in the long run... they had many nightmares in the following weeks, but with time the fear of the event faded into vague memories as they grew and changed and gained experience.

I look at the medal that Michelangelo earned during his "rematch" in the Battle Nexus- it is hanging in a place of honor in our new dojo- and sigh. I am proud of all of them- they are Ninja. They are warriors, the finest I know. My Master Yoshi would be proud to call them "grandsons". They honor me with their skills and their courage. Michelangelo, especially, has turned out to be an exceptional fighter. He truly deserves his second win at the Battle Nexus. He has earned his title of "champion".

"Aww... why do I gotta get up and train at this early hour?" Michelangelo whines. He knows I will ignore it only for so long, and then I will probably smack him with my stick- not hard but enough to catch his attention.

I begin the morning's training, and I am proved right; I have to catch his attention several times this morning.

I wonder when it was that he changed. He used to be so eager to learn...

Sometimes I wish I could go back to those days; sometimes I wish they could, even if for a few minutes, be little children again. I miss my babies- sometimes.

The lesson is over for the day, and after being forced to clean up the dojo, the four of them vanish like the ninja they are.

I look at the medal again and sigh.

"Um, Dad?"

I turn; Michelangelo is in the doorway. I wonder if he has managed in the few short minutes since leaving to already be in need of protection from Raphael.

Before I can respond, he comes across the floor and suddenly hugs me.

"Sorry I messed up today. I won't do it again."

I smile and return his hug.

"Thank you, my son," I say, smiling. He looks at me with a confused grin.

"For what?"

"For wanting, once upon a time, to be Father's team, so we could fight the bad guys and 'safe' the day."

He just looks puzzled, but he is too polite to ridicule his father. So he grins and with a slow "O-kaaaaaaay", he hugs me again, and then leaves to go get into his usual daily amount of trouble.

My son, the Ninja.