6960/My foot for the Foot

My foot for the Foot
Date of Scene:	18 March 2019
Location:	Turtle Lair, beneath New York City
Synopsis:	Mikey comes back to the lair after engaging the Foot Clan... and hams up to Leo while trying to give info
Cast of Characters:	Michelangelo, Leonardo

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Michelangelo has posed:
Mikey didn't doddle on his way back to the lair, where he might would have usually. There are injuries involved and though they be nonlethal, he knows that even a small abrasion can fester if not delt with in a sewer environment and so he comes into the collective home of the turtles with his skateboard hanging from his hand that may be dripping a little blood from a makeshift bandage he's made from one of his hand fist wraps.

His left arm is holding to his right shoulder as well, board tossed away haphazzardly as he heads towards Donnie's little lab area where he's most likely to find some medical supplies, "Anybody home?! I'm dying... I've been undone by a foul villain!" He sounds genuinely concerned, but he is almost certainly not actually dying.

Leonardo has posed:
The others may be asleep, or out, or just in another part of the place the turtles call home for as long as they've been around. It's large enough with the different areas for them to focus on. One such area, the dojo, is taken up by one of Michelangelo's brothers, hard at work. This time, it's a series of attacks against an invisible, imagined foe, or rather a group of them in the event anyone happened to be watching. The occasional "Hyaaa!" is the only sound aside from the nearly silent passing of a weapon through the air, followed by a roundhouse kick, a leap into a foreward flip and strike, directly into a back heel kick, a forward elbow thrust.

The training is interrupted by a voice heard from the main entry area. Then, "Keep it down out there, Mikey! Father is trying to sleep! Or maybe he's meditating. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. Either way, exaggerating isn't cool, bro," says Leonardo, not yet visible. Footsteps approach, however.

Michelangelo has posed:
"I'm not exagerating!" Mikey protests while fumbling around in the lab for a medical kit, "There were Foot Clan, Leo.." This said with a worrying of his bottom lip now that he's located the case and set it on a table where he can begin unwrapping his makeshift bandage, "They blew me up.. look at the state of my face!" It's true, he has carbon scoring from an explosion, but it's mostlys uperficial blasting powder residue, "This wasn't the simple ones either, dude, it was the scary ones.."

A bottle of rubbing alcohol is liberally poured upon the deep gouge in his arm where a piece of shrapnel got him in the unprotected portion of his forearm. "They were after this other dude and I chased them. Thankfully there were like, other ninja dudes there, this one in all white and silver and this super dope looking guy with a katana who looked kind of like that one dude from Star Wars who played the red and black spikey head guy?"

Sitting in a chair, there's a number of cuts and bruises, but aside from the injury to his arm, he's pretty much okay. "I'm losing so much blood, I'm going to probably die! I need 600cc of pizza stat!"

Leonardo has posed:
Leonardo shows himself, in the process of stowing his katanas in their saya, or scabbards, across his back. He looks mildly annoyed, not quite having picked up on the urgency of Michelangelo's words at first. That's when he sees, his own blue eyes widening through the holes in his headband. "You're hurt! Why didn't you say so?" he blurts, ignoring the fact his brother did, in fact, claim injury. "What /happened/ to you? You ran into the Foot?"

He's over by Michelangelo in no time, reaching for the first aid materials to help with the disenfecting and cleaning, using a hand to help him more closely inspect that face, and the nicks and cuts, checking for any evidence of shrapnel that may have been missed. "What kind of scary ones? You saw other ninja? And you have their descriptions? That's good. We'll have to ask Sensei if he recognizes any of them." The request for a pizza IV says to him this may still be more hamming up the injuries than anything truly serious, but first things first when it comes to helping with the bandages. "You were out by yourself, weren't you?" he asks, probingly.

Michelangelo has posed:
"Yessssss..." Mikey is slumping down in his seat now that someone has finally taken him seriously enough to come see about his injuries. His uninjured arm lays forearm to forehead across his face and he's turned away froM Leo, "Don't tell me how bad it is... am I don't know if I can make it without my arm dude. I need it to walk!" He does not, that is not how arms work.

"I told you, bro, there was the one with the helmet with eye slits and then mister dope white cape man who saved me. He totally pushed me out of the way of the explosion. He's a hero, Leo. A bonified hero. We should get him one of those tiny little hero dad trophies." Also, not how that works.

As for what he was doing? Mikey peeks at his brother from between his spread fingers, "I was just skateboarding down in the sewer and then Foot Soldiers should up. Liek the assassin ones, in red, the elite guys that are always with Shredder. I thought that dude was dead? He's still dead right?" Anyways, "They showed up chasing this french dude and I couldn't just let them kill him, so I did what I thought you would do and broke the rule about going up alone." Blinking his big blue eyes, "It was kind of cool, honestly. I was a total badass."

Leonardo has posed:
Leonardo places a hand to Mikey's forehead, giving him a closer look of scrutiny. "You're not suffering from shell shock, are you? You're making even less sense than usual," he points out, crossing his arms afterward, determining that the injuries aren't /too/ serious judging by the way he's taken care of what he can without calling for Splinter right away.

He mostly just lets the other turtle tell his story the way he will, leaving him to pick out the important bits from the extra stuff. "I think you'll be able to walk again. You're saying it wasn't just a group of adds? Like, yellow bars instead?" Even with something like this, he's using gaming terms to describe it. The 'French dude' doesn't draw much of a reaction from him, unsure why the man's nationality should matter, then he frowns. "Yeah, you sound like a total badass who almost got wasted, but I guess I can understand you getting involved. What else happened? Where was this? What blew up?"

Michelangelo has posed:
Mikey relents to all inspections of his meager vitals, in his own head anyways. "The end is ney.." He croaks audibly and lets his head lull off to the side with his tongue dangling from his mouth. The way he slumps in the chair, he very nearly tumbles out of it. "Only one thing can prevent my transduction-" Transcendance, "-To the diamond-" Pearly, "Gates..." A trimbling, faux weak left hand points towards the kitchen. "Left overs..."

He's gonna be fine.

"Uhh yeah! Yellow bars with a dragon name plate, bro." He jumps right in the description having watched his older brother play World of Dorkcraft for hours and hours while backseat gaming. "One of their little explody things, are you paying attention to me?" Flailing weakly, acting like he's making complete sense. "That's it. That's all that happened. These two Foot assassiny dudes were chasing this other dude who was talking in that ever so sweet sounding silken language of our French cousins. I don't know what they were saying, but it sounded so beautiful. Like wiping your butt with wetnaps or cold cola on a hot day... I think they were his parents. The original two, a man and woman, not the assassin dudes, also a man and a woman. It was kind of all happening at once, you know?"

Leonardo has posed:
During some part of Michelangelo's attempt to convey more of what happened, Leo reaches out to bat at the back of his head, flipping the tail of the orange bandana up as he rolls his eyes. "You're not going to the big aquarium in the sky, and you can get your own leftovers. So go ahead, get up."

Of course he's gonna be fine.

Still, a frown lingers along with that typically serious demeanor when it comes to things like this. "So they were trying to kidnap them? Kill them? What? And did they get away? Is that what you helped with? Were you seen...much?" For he's already guessed Michelangelo /was/ spotted by someone.

Michelangelo has posed:
Mikey rubs at the back of his head with his right hand, showing exactly how fine the arm was to begin with, after receiving his pop. The look he turns on Leo is scathing, but it doesn't last long what with him being cleared for active pizza duty. "Righteous!" The orange turtle lumbers out of his chair towards the kitchen, foot kicking off the wall with a hand wrapped around a drain pipe to allow him a swing into the kitchen area.

"Yeah, I think they were trying to kidnap him." Said while hanging head first in the old fridge looking for left over, which he finds, but there's no telling how old they are. After opening the tinfoil in which it's wrapped it becomes absolutely clear it isn't from anytime this week... and maybe not this month. Mikey sniffs at it anyways and digs around in the fridge for more toppings to add.

"Maybe they were going to kill him, but like they never got the chance." Pepper flakes, crumbled bits of dry cheese, some last floating pickles out of a dirty jar. "The French dude got away though. I made sure of that. I hope he wasn't a bad dude, but I think the Foot Clan are probably worse, so it all worked out." Ketchup, mustard, and a hotdog. Mikey wraps it like a taco and takes a big bite. "Urh saugh duh daee."

Leonardo has posed:
Leonardo wouldn't have done that without a reason, even if the primary one was to get Michelangelo to stop babbling so much. 'Just the facts, ma'am' is what Joe Friday would have said. He follows along at a normal walking pace as Mikey gets to work on finding something from the fridge. In between his deeper forays into the appliance, Leo quietly finds a home in the trash for the oldest, nastiest looking 'food,' subtly replacing it with something a bit more recent that may or may not be what was originally set out, doing so right when the turtle's focus is back on what's being laid out. It's not like Mikey's paying that much attention, from what he can tell. He just seems to want to gorge himself.

"I'll see what Father thinks of all this. We should try to find out who they were and what the Foot wanted with them. You really think Shredder is still around? That'd be /very bad news," Leonardo shakes his head, drumming his fingers against the nearby tabletop.

Michelangelo has posed:
Mikey summarily devours the bit of everything taco pizza in several quick bites and then sucks the ketchup and other juices from his finger tips like it was the very best thing he's ever eaten. There is, infact, very little the orange turtle wont eat. Few things are safe, if he's able to chew it, he'll try. "I don't know, maybe? I didn't see him and it's not like someone else couldn't pretend to be all spooky edge lord blades for a helmet, right?" Fingers wiggling up over his head to simulate something that he believes conveys a spookiness.

"It was definitely Foot Clan, tho. I'd recognize those dark palet geis anywhere." Definitive nod, "But, Leo, buddy, my favorite brother... when you tell dad, can you leave out the part where I went out alone? Like, he said he'd ground me next time and I kind of want to hit up the March Madness game next week.." Big turtle puppy eyes. Turtle puppy eyes he turns on his arm, "I think maybe Im gonna take a nap. I got a big day in the morning-" Which is in like an hour, "-gotta watch reruns of Raw on hulu."

Leonardo has posed:
"I don't think he'd ever let someone else wear his stuff," Leonardo murmurs, that thoughtful look about him returning. But what if..? He knows one..rat who would have an answer to that and so much more. As for himself, he's come up with an apple to munch on. "I believe you when you say it was the Foot Clan, though. But..."

There's almost always a 'But' with this stuff, and his expression thins out at the begging, clearly directed to appeal to his secret-keeping side. "You know I can't promise you that. Did you stop to think that he probably already knows? You know how much he worries whenever we don't follow the buddy system." The eyes are not working on him. He completely no-sells it. "Yeah, you look like you need it. And, Mikey? The heels came out on top this week. They laid the faces out good." Yes, he had to spoil it.

Michelangelo has posed:
Mikey actually swats at Leo when he almost ruins the ending of Raw, "Spoilers dude!" smacking at defensive arms, no doubt, "I have like one love affair in this world!" That is the biggest lie, especially if he says anything other than pizza, "And you're trying to wrench it from me! That's like when you guys tried to trick me into believing Santa wasn't real, but if there's turtles and Roman Reigns can beat cancer with the power of the WWE Universe behind him, surely there must be a Santa!" Whether or not he actually believes that there is a Claus or not.

Mikey huffs and storms out of the kitchn with his fists balled up. He's the tiniest of all the turtles, probably the least impossing by far, so his 'mock' anger probably looks comical at best. At least to his brothers! "Thanks for the first aid, dude! I'll be carefuller next time!" He doesn't promise because there's no way he'll do that. He might not be rebellious like Raph, but Mikey is curious like a cat and gets himself into trouble easily.

Leonardo has posed:
Leonardo allows the swat, though he turns enough that it's only a glancing amount of contact. "Dude, he did that years ago," he explains, which doesn't exactly invalidate Mikey's point. "And you're all about whatever's on your mind at the moment."

The mock anger from the turtle has him shaking his head. "You're welcome," he calls back, muttering under his breath, "And no you won't," when it comes to being more careful.

And this is why he worries.

Suddenly feeling like he needs more time in the gym, he goes to put a pounding on the heavy bag for longer than he was going to keep track of. Only after that might he unwind enough to watch some more TV or play a game.