Chapter Text
Floating.
Directionless.
Dots shine brightly in the distance, their immense heat meaning nothing against the unfathomable cold of the void. Streaks of color swirl neither above nor below in stark contrast against the black. There is no orientation here. Low booming vibrations echo in the background as if assuming there was anyone able to hear in this expanse.
There is movement, achingly slow yet noticeably faster than the invisible constant shifting of everything. It is small. Everything is small in comparison to universal emptiness. But this is not empty.
It is long and cylindrical, with slotted channels running along its length.
Secure.
It is covered in symbols long faded out and scratches and burns that will never disappear.
Sturdy.
There is no window to show what is contained inside, no visible latch or door to break and expose its contents.
Safe.
It has to be.
Beams of light shoot off into the heavens. Plumes of smoke and bright waves of fire stretch across the surface of a celestial sphere. The unit drifts away into a universe that is indifferent to the destruction. The universe persists off of the breaking and rebuilding of itself.
The object treks along in some direction, floating towards an unknown goal that has thus far allowed it to not fall into an orbit. Far from its beginning. Far from its end. A tin can against the weight of the cosmos.
Michelangelo pauses the music on his headphones as he scans the environment. It’s only been a few weeks since the defeat of Shredder, but being back at the docks still makes him nervous. Not to mention that since the last time he was here, construction has ensued on the site. Some humans could be working late for all he knew.
A good portion of the concrete had been removed, and most of the shipping containers were gone or set further away from the shoreline. Large machines dotted the setting, but no cars. No cars usually means no people, but then again this is New York.
Mikey stands atop the crane, the high-altitude breeze slowly moving his hoodie and sending a cool chill against his legs. The box turtle readjusts the strap of his bag and begins walking down the crane’s arm. The metal gets slowly warmer as he climbs down and he jumps to the concrete of the docks with silent feet.
Still no signs of anyone around. No music, no chatter, nothing. Mikey weaves through the shipping containers that remain on the site before finding a spot he likes.
Beats fill his head as his headphones turn back on and he pulls up his hood. Opening the bag, he grabs the colors he’s looking for and feels that familiar weight in his hands. The snapping clack as he shakes the spray cans and removes the caps. Mikey pulls up the mask to cover his mouth and nose and sets to work.
He can hear the tssssss of the paint as he moves his arms. Feel the pounding bass and fast lyrics soaking into his brain. The chill of the concrete under his toes. A smile creeps onto Mikey’s face, the colors dripping from his fingers and down the rusty surface.
It’s been so long. Took him a few days to convince Raph to go out alone again. Said he wouldn’t go to a dangerous place to put up his art, but when does he ever? Mikey’s been to the surface at night alone plenty of times, more than Raph even knows about.
Mikey shakes his head and changes the song. Now’s not the time to think about Raph or his family. Graffiti night is his night.
As he makes one last and slow arc for the dripping effect, he sets down the cans and takes a step back to admire his work. Fireworks streak across the sides of the container in the familiar orange, blue, purple, and red he likes to incorporate into each piece. The silhouetted skyline drips to the ground, looking even better with the actual thing being right across the river. One last thing to add.
Mikey grabs the golden yellow paint and paints his signature. A smiley face with one X eye and a jagged squiggle for the smile. Now it’s truly his.
He pauses his music and checks once again for signs of humans. Correctly finding nothing, Mikey packs up his bag and strolls around the ruined docks. He heads towards the massive hole in the center where the concrete had been removed. The place was destroyed the last time he was there, and he can still see some of the long white lines scratched into the cement.
Another breeze hits his exposed legs and Mikey pulls down the bottom of his hoodie to cover his tail. He turns towards the river, almost expecting to see a large boat of partying teens floating down the waves. But there’s nothing.
Mikey releases a sigh. Everything’s fine. He continues walking down the docks towards the shoreline. Passing by a large piece of cement, he picks it up and flips it around in his hands. Throw it. Mikey chuckles at the idea and follows without hesitation. He watches it soar through the air towards the river, waiting for the splash.
Clanksh.
That’s… not what he was expecting. Mikey half-jogs over to the edge of the docks and looks down. What is that? He sits on the edge and jumps down to the gravel and sandy shore.
It’s a long metal cylinder, about two feet in diameter that stretches down into the river's waters. The object has a series of indents that run along its length, with gravel coating the bottom. There’s no apparent handle.
Mikey pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight. It reflects off the cylinder and offers minimal help in piercing the water, rippling against the beach and coldly lapping at his feet. He kneels in the sand, removes his hood and headphones, and places his head against the mysterious object. A series of knocks reveals it’s sort of hollow. Where did it come from?
Examining the above water portion and running his hands along it below the waves provides nothing in terms of handles. Setting his bag down, Mikey wraps his arms around the object and awkwardly pulls. His feet dig into the gravel and he slips onto his rump. Hmph. So it’s gonna be like that, huh?
Mikey pulls himself to his feet and wipes away the sand and gravel from his skin. The cold air brushes his skin again and he quickly shakes his legs. He reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and grabs his nunchucks. The boys never go out weaponless. Not after Shredder.
The box turtle holds one end in each hand and loosely swings the other in two circles. Mikey takes a deep breath and looks inward, feeling the familiar but still new bright and fiery core of his being. The warmth flows into his body, his nerves, his skin, and through to the weapons in his hands. Mikey extends his chains and manually wraps them around the strange cylinder. He pulls.
Luckily that did the trick. The metallic column scoots out of the water with minimal effort and Mikey replaces his nunchucks into his hoodie pocket. Taking out his phone, he once again shines the flashlight. There are scratches and...burn marks everywhere he looks, the channels stretching from the top to the bottom of the thing. Mikey knocks on it again and it still sounds somewhat hollow. There’s no visible latch, handle, or edge to the cylinder.
It wasn’t hidden, and humans have obviously been around, so why is it still here? Mikey’s sure someone would’ve taken it by now, maybe under the impression that it’s fallen cargo, but it’s still here. Maybe nothing’s inside, but it’s intriguing how there’s no clear way to open it. Even the metal should be worth something.
Donnie might like it. Michelangelo thinks. It’s not from the scrap yard, and if anyone can open it he can. It’ll be a surprise!
Mikey bounces on his feet at the idea. A surprise mysterious metal thing for Donnie. He’s excited to see what’s inside.
“Well,” Mikey says as he picks up his bag. “Time to get this thing home! Er, back to the lair!” The turtle puts the headphones and hood back up and the music continues. He grabs his nunchucks and reties them around the strange object. Good thing there’s no humans around!
Turns out that even with his chains, maneuvering the cylinder would be quite the challenge. Not to mention he got lost in the new tunnels a few times. Sure he was almost to the entrance, but it was still a few turns away and Mikey had been out a good portion of the night. Leo at the very least would likely still be up, but Mikey was getting tired.
He slowly set down the metal column, removed his chains, placed the weapons back into his pocket, and grabbed his phone to a small string of messages.
Mad Dogz
(Btyshkr9k, Stronks, Portal Gun, Literal Orange, Bat Girl)
Stronks: Just checking in Mikey
Portal Gun: hes fine raph
Stronks: I know
We just havent gotten a picture yet
Portal Gun: hes probably still working
Btyshkr9k: Go to bed, you two
Portal Gun: yur up too d
Btyshkr9k: Did you disable your spellcheck again
Portal Gun: it restricted my creative freedom
Stronks: Stop it guys. Let us know when your done Mikey
Mikey chuckled at the continued messages between Leo and Donnie and mentally kicked himself for forgetting to take a picture of his work.
Literal Orange: sorry, lost track of time. Almost back
Mikey put away his phone and took another glance at the metal cylinder. It’ll be fine here for now. I’ll grab it in the morning. The teen left the strange object in the abandoned subway tunnels and headed back to the lair, greeting Leo upon his return. Leo simply offered a wave and went back to sipping his tea.
Mikey walked past the kitchen to a subway car with orange paint around the edges. He slid the sticker-covered door closed and flicked on his fairy lights, casting a soft glow into his room, before setting his bag on the ground and collapsing into his hammock.
Donnie’s gonna love his surprise.