Heyyy, it's been a HOT second.

I've been very busy with grad school and honestly I'm an adult now who doesn't feel the need to post my issues on Wattpad anymore. Crazy, right? Anyways, this "adult" has been going through a major TMNT kick lately and I decided while writing/editing my TMNT series and preparing to post it on Ao3 (don't worry, I'm be posting on both platforms if you happen to read my fics on here but don't have Ao3) that I no longer liked my flashback style prologues for my TMNT fanfics. I wanted something more relevant to the plot, so I changed them (well, the first one. I'll be changing the second book's prologue later on).

Anyways, that whole spiel was to explain why I'm posting the OG prologue on here. I was too nostalgic to delete it, so I figured I'd save it here for myself and others.

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September, 2002

There was a vacant building standing on the streets of New York City. It was a run-down dojo for martial arts and was scheduled to be torn down before it was bought only days ago.

Pulling up next to the building were two cars. One was a shiny, black Toyota Crown filled with luggage. The other one was a dirty, white, family-sized suburban covered in 'baby-on-board' stickers.

A tall, muscular man got out of the first car, slamming the door shut and going to the trunk. He had reddish-brown hair cut short and slicked back with gel, a small patch of hair on his chin, and sea blue eyes. Climbing out of the other car was tall, thin woman with bouncing, bleach blonde curls. She had warm, brown eyes, pale skin, and freckles spotting her nose. Her lips were drawn into a frown as she opened the back doors. She pulled out two three year-old boys; one identical to the man, one identical to the woman, except his left eye was a pale blue.

She carried them to the other side of the car and opened the other door. Sliding out was a five year-old girl with wild, black curls, a tan face, pale eyes, and a hint of freckles on her nose. Another noticeable feature was the large, dark bruise that caused her left cheek to swell. Her eyes were moist with tears as she shifted a baseball in between her two hands.

"Come one, baby, we're gonna go help daddy get settle in." She offered a tight smil, beckoning the girl away from the car.

A tear fell down the little girl's cheek. "I don't want to. What if daddy hits me again?" She asked. She had watched her mother take a few hits during the climax of their fights, but never had the young child thought that she might receive that blunt force of his hand.

"That's why daddy's moving, so he can't hurt you anymore. But I can't leave you in the car." The woman's gentle voice cooed as she bent down to face the little girl.

A few more tears streamed down the girl's face. "Momma, please..." She begged, backing up into the side of the car.

The woman sighed. "Okay, but stay by the car, alright? If someone talks to you, run inside to get me, got it?" The little girl simply nodded, wiping her face as her mother carried the boys over to her father, who had a grim frown on his face.

"She's not coming in?" He asked, his tone hinting at remorse as he opened the door for his ex-wife.

The woman glared. "Maybe she would if you didn't smack her for no damn reason." With that, they disappeared inside.

The little girl watched them leave, continuing to nervously toss the baseball from hand to hand, watching the door in fear. Because she wasn't focused, the ball bumped into her hand at a bad angle and bounced off course before rolling away. She stared after it in dismay as it rolled into a grated storm drain on the curb of the street.

She sighed sadly, turning to climb back into the car, when suddenly, she saw movement, and looked over in curiosity. There was her ball, rolling out into the street. She rushed over, scooping it up with joy.

She looked to the storm drain, and to her surprise, she saw a pair of eyes staring at her with amusement.

Her mom had warned her strangers on the streets. She said nothing about strangers under the streets. "Hi." She said, crawling to the storm drain, sitting crisscross in front of it. "Did you save my ball?"

"Yeah, it hit me on the head!" A squeaky young voice piped from the darkness. "What's your name?"

"Shelby Bradford. What about you?"

"Hamato Michelangelo! That's Japanese for Mikey. I think." The voice explained with a hint of laughter.

"Cool! Thank you for saving my ball, I thought I was going to lose it." Shelby said, leaning forward slightly.

"No problem. Hey! What's that stuff on your head?" Mikey asked, reaching a hand out and gently grabbing a black curl.

Shelby couldn't help but notice that the boy's skin was green and he had three fingers, but being so young and innocent, she didn't think anything of it. "This is hair. Don't you have any?"

"I don't think so." Mikey admitted.

"Are you a hobo?" Shelby questioned, her pale blue eyes narrowing.

"Maybe! That sounds cool! Wanna be my hobo friend?" He asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Yeah!" Shelby cheered, smiling brightly.

"Cool! You can come live with me and my brothers and my dad! We can throw that ball around and wrestle and watch TV an-"

"Oh, I can't." Shelby frowned. "I don't live here. I live in Detroit."

"Where's that?" Mikey asked sadly.

"Far away." Shelby sighed, looking to the cement. She glanced to the window, and saw her mother and brothers approaching the door. "I think I have to go soon. Here." She handed Mikey the baseball through the grates. "You can have it. It even has my name on it, so you can remember me!" Shelby smiled.

"Thanks! Maybe I'll see you someday soon!" Mikey smiled, before his eyes disappeared.

"Shelby! Get off the ground! It's time to go!" Her mother's voice called, and Shelby scurried to her feet.

"Mommy! Are we ever coming back?" She jumped up and down as her mom buckled in her brothers.

Her mother pursed her lips. "Hopefully not." She stated, picking her up and buckling her in.

Shelby glanced out the back window sadly, looking to the storm drain. "Oh, okay." She muttered.