Issue #1

New York City, Many Years Ago

As Chester and Matthew exited the pet store they were startled as an oncoming truck swerved out of control. An old blind man sauntered along the crosswalk of 11th and Bleecker, his cane guiding him along the asphalt.

"Matt, look out!" Chester pointed to the poor sightless man.

Matthew raced into the street and hurriedly shoved the man out of harm's way. The truck barely missed the pedestrians and careened into the intersection before violently smashing into the car in front of it. A barrel of industrial waste labeled TCRI flew from the back of the truck and spilled all over the street. Matthew wasn't paying attention. The lime-colored sludge splashed into his face. In shock, Chester dropped his small aquarium. It shattered all over the sidewalk as he ran in the street to help his friend.

"Matt, are you okay?" the boy cried out.

Matthew moaned and looked around, realizing he could not see. He let out a brief scream before falling to his knees and crying. "Chester, help me. I think I'm… I'm blind."

The shattered glass from the aquarium littered the sidewalk. Its contents, four infant slider turtles, were now saturated in a puddle of the glowing slime. Onlookers marveled at the boy's heroic deed as police sirens could be heard in the distance. The waste began to flow along the sidewalk causing Chester's new pets to slip through a nearby storm drain and plummet to the bottom of a sewer.

Oblivious to the chaos on the street above, a gray field rat slinked down the face of a pipe and began to inspect its surroundings. The baby turtles were now crawling around in a small pool of the mysterious ooze. The emerald radiance of the substance illuminated the dank sewer. The rodent crawled up to one of the glowing terrapins and sniffed. The strange goo now soaked its feet.

The vermin screeched as it suddenly began to grow. In a matter of seconds the animal had doubled in size and now stood upright. It wasted no time as it began rolling a nearby coffee can toward the clutch of turtles. With great care the rat nudged each reptile into the bin, somehow aware that it was time to find a home for its new family.

Weeks had passed as the rat and his four turtles had grown in both size and intellect. The strange ooze that had accelerated the rat's growth had done the same for his progeny. The rat now stood at four feet tall. The turtles had mutated into humanoid turtle creatures and each stood about five feet in height. Each one appeared nearly identical to the next except for different variations in their plastron patterns and different shades of green skin color. They were now living in the sewer with the rat occasionally traveling above the sewer to scour the dumpsters in back alleys for nourishment. They had survived on discarded food from nearby restaurants including fish, partially rotten fruits and vegetables, stale bread and discarded boxes of Chinese takeout.

Shortly after the rat had brought his turtles to his burrow in the sewer, the rodent began to have vague memories of an ancient past. A strange instinct gnawed at him. He felt as though he might have once been the thing he feared most: a human. Soon, the rat found that he was intelligent enough to understand and repeat the words that he had heard the humans on the street using. He began teaching his adopted sons to speak the English Language.

As the weeks passed the rat's intelligence became far greater. His memories became harder to ignore. His past was no longer a mystery. He was now convinced that he had been reincarnated as a rat. In his former life he was Hamato Yoshi, the leader of a covert ninja clan known throughout Feudal Japan as the Foot. The clan's Chunin, or second-in-command, Oroku Saki, saw Yoshi's commitment to pacifism as a weakness. In an attempt to overthrow Yoshi and rebuild the clan in his own image Saki murdered Yoshi's wife, Teng Shen.

In his grief Hamato Yoshi fled the clan and wandered the forests of Japan in an attempt to find enlightenment. He settled somewhere in Southern Honshu and built a house, eventually dying of old age. Following Yoshi's departure the legend of the Foot Clan spread all over Japan. Under Oroku Saki they were said to be the most fearsome and ruthless band of scoundrels ever to haunt the land.

The rat sat meditating. Why had he been reincarnated? The rat wondered what great purpose returning to life as a rat could have. Was he being punished for choosing not to avenge the death of his beloved wife? And why would fate grant him such intelligence or the ability to speak like a human? Why had fate granted him four sons now when he could not conceive in the past? There were so many questions. Perhaps in time he could try to find the answers.

His thoughts were broken as the four turtles approached him.

"Father? May we speak with you?" one of them gripped his shoulder.

"What is it, my sons?" The rat was slightly annoyed at the interruption.

"My brothers and I have been thinking. We've been down here with you a long time. Can we go to the surface?" another chimed in.

"Not just yet. I have been out there foraging for food. You must believe me when I tell you it is too dangerous."

"Well, okay then. But father —."

"What is it now?" the rat shouted impatiently.

"Who are we? I mean I know we are turtles but do we have names?"

"Ah yes. Forgive me, son. I have spent weeks educating you about life and the ways of the world but I have failed to give you names. In fact, we all need names. I have been studying an old library book that I found discarded down here." The rat picked up the book that was lying beside him and began flipping through the dirty pages. "Janson's Encyclopedia of Renaissance Art says the four most famous artists of the High Renaissance period were Leonardo da Vinci, Donatello di Betto Bardi, Michelangelo Buonarroti and Raffaello Sanzio." He pointed to each of his sons as he gave them all names. "So, I will call you Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael."

"Thank you, father." The one now called Leonardo spoke.

"And I will give myself the name I used during my exile many years ago. I will be called Splinter."

"This is so cool," the turtle named Michelangelo smiled.

"Don't disappear just yet, my sons. I have been meditating for many hours. I now know what I must do. In repentance for past mistakes I am going to teach you all the ways of the ninja. With this knowledge perhaps you can someday venture to the surface world and perform good deeds."

"What's a ninja?" the turtle who was Donatello scratched his head.

"You shall soon find out." Splinter grabbed a soggy wooden plank and bopped each turtle on the head.

"We're ready, father, geez." The one dubbed Raphael rubbed his temple.

"I warn you. Your training will be long, arduous and repetitive. I will at times be a difficult taskmaster. But this is the path I have chosen for us. You will learn several forms of combat. You will learn stealth and concealment. Above all you will learn discipline. I must first return to the surface world to gather the tools that will aid you in your training. Be patient, my children. We shall soon begin."