Thank you for joining me. I felt particularly angry today. It's sugar withdrawal. And the fact that the login for the site has been particularly DEAD lately. So I need something that makes me feel like I'm generally useful and ranting all in one. Because I hate Writer's Block, because it makes me hate writing, and has also begun turning me against Stitches (which I REFUSE to give up on, damn it). Look at this, I'm ranting. AKA rambling. Someone get me an Uzi, please.

Disclaimer: Oh for the love of God, I don't own them!

Mornings didn't typically pan out so badly.

Entire fucking decades weren't known to go so badly.

In fact, the creation of the earth, the evolution of the dinosaurs, and the giant explosion that had driven them to extinction probably hadn't gone so badly.

For the purpose of keeping his rant as long as possible, he threw in the fact that as far as he'd been able to tell, the Great Depression and the attack on Pearl Harbor had gone a little more smoothly than his current morning.

But hey: that was just Raph's opinion, and he was prone to a little exaggeration once in a while. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that a routine group run through the sewer had turned into yet another battle to the death above a conveniently placed catwalk and whirlpool combination.

Taking stock of that, he decided that he was really beginning to hate sewers.

Not that a mere battle to the death could have been enough to create what he was beginning to think of as the Worst Morning Ever™.

No, life hated him far too much for that. Instead of a run-of-the-mill battle against the Foot that would be emerged from with everybody generally whole and victorious, he was handed half-asleep-Michelangelo, caffeine-withdrawal-Donatello and previously-injured-Leonardo-who-was-too-stupid-to-understand-the-meaning-of-taking-it-easy-and-had-instead-dragged-his-brothers-through-the-sewers-in-the-early-hours-of-the-morning. Idiot.

It was making it a bit difficult to prevail this time around. He decided that if they somehow managed to survive this one, it would be forever known as Surprise Battle of Half-Assed Proportions. Landing a solid kick to the chest of a black-clad enemy ninja, he hastily tacked on a decision to engrave the details of the event on a plaque and hang it above the very catwalk that it had occurred on.

Then he could forever remind Leo of the day he'd whipped out massive levels of epic ass-kicking skills in order to save his brothers' pathetic early morning tails.

Raphael took advantage of his temporarily free moment to check in on his 'incapacitated' siblings. On the edges of his vision, Mikey yawned; avoiding a potentially fatal blow from an opponent's butterfly sword and knocking said ninja out of the game with a quick strike to the back of the head. Leo seemed to be holding his own as well as usual, showing off his never-ending reservoir of ninjitsu mastery by single-handedly disarming two opponents at once. Never let it be said that slings or dislocated shoulders interrupted his mojo. Even Donnie appeared to be making some headway, looking slightly more energized than he had been earlier.

Good. No one he had to jump in and rescue, then.

Just as he was mentally expressing his thanks to the air in general, however, one of the many faceless bastards he'd put down earlier jumped back to their feet and pulled out a rocket launcher. This event was both too much and too convenient. Raphael glared at the disoriented ninja, feeling the almighty power of his righteous fury beginning to rise to the surface.

No way. There was just no way.

Rocket launchers, by and large, were capable of being deadly in the hands of even the most inexperienced of wielders. In the hands of a trained assassin, the potential skyrocketed enormously. The difference between your average Joe and your average Foot ninja? Foot ninja could aim. Realistically, he figured wryly, he should have expected something like this to happen.

Whether they were fighting the Foot or the Purple Dragons, explosives always wound up in the mix. It was ridiculous. No, wait: it was a rocket launcher.

It was always a rocket launcher.

It was always. A. Fucking. Rocket. Launcher.

"OH, come on! Where the FUCK did you get THAT?" Raph exploded, never one to stay in his own head for long. Why should this situation be different?

There was a momentary pause in the chaos of the moment, during which his brothers glanced at him in fear for his sanity. His returned glare told them in no uncertain terms to keep their mouths shut, because now was not the time. The object of his current ire responded to his admittedly not-so-subtle remark by very deliberately pulling his arm back and firing in Leonardo's general direction.

Raph's mind was made up. Unless he was the one using them, he hated any and all explosives. With a ridiculously loud round of swearing and the distinct determination to rub this in his brother's face for the rest of their natural lives (and maybe the majority of their afterlives: it depended on exactly how peaceful that would turn out to be), Raphael made an impressive hundred-yard dash and forcefully shoved his brother out of harm's way. Bits of tunnel began raining down around them soon afterward.

But even the now rather collapsed state of the sewers wasn't enough to put the morning on his infamous 'Worst Ever' list. Watching a massive chunk of stone hit the deadly whirlpool below and swirl out of sight, he reminded himself that they'd fought through larger explosions and come out relatively unharmed. And the fact that the enemy had high-tailed it at the first sign of long-range weaponry was something of a lucky break.

But what would his life be without a higher power kicking him in the balls? Used to the sudden appearance of such events, he kept a wary eye open as he spun to observe his surroundings.

The next few moments were a strange combination of both silence and sensation.

He felt rather than heard the ground shifting beneath his feet. Just as he observed with some wordless detachment the way his brothers' faces morphed from exhausted relief to wide-eyed shock. Mike was probably saying his name, judging by the way his lips moved. Leo wasn't saying anything, opting instead to take a hurried step forward, good arm outstretched.

When Raph saw Donnie's mouth form something along the lines of 'Oh, shit,' he figured he was in trouble. Leo dropped his sword and it hit the ground with a sharp clang, bringing sound back into the world in time for Raph to hear a loud cracking sound as the ground gave way beneath him. He glanced down at his feet in some surprise, then back up. It was definitely a strange occurrence.

He didn't realize he was actually falling until he hit the water. The sharp images of his brothers vanished abruptly and were obscured by darkness.

Things had now gone officially bad enough to be called the Worst Morning Ever™.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Meanwhile, in the offices located somewhere within the Foot Skyscraper:

It was a typical morning in the profession of evil as Oroku Saki sat idly in one of his many large and empty ceremonial chambers. The room somehow shone with an eerie red light in spite of the fact that he'd had the light bulbs replaced three times since it was added. After some time, he'd decided to just accept that evil buildings possessed minds of their own and would glow as they wished.

At least it matched the décor.

It was on this particular morning and in this particular room that he had made the decision to thoroughly clean his villainous armor. Having fulfilled his usual morning obligation to send legions upon legions of Foot soldiers into the city to ambush and destroy his most hated enemies while he posed dramatically in the background, he saw no reason not to ensure that his pointy accessories didn't rust in the meantime.

Not that he'd really expected his soldiers to emerge victorious after several years of abject failure. The Shredder was far from stupid. When they'd returned earlier, he hadn't been surprised to learn of their retreat. But if he didn't send them out to destroy the turtles, what could he be expected to do with thousands of obedient ninja at his disposal? He'd occasionally considered the option of Ninja Pizza or Ninja Dry-cleaning, but in the end they were too quick to react violently to their surroundings.

Besides, they seemed to constantly retain hope of success in hunting the Turtles in 'the near future.' Optimistic fools. Always telling him exactly how close they'd come and how they planned to succeed. That was precisely why he'd ordered Karai back to Japan. Going on about avenging his honor, and her honor, destroying Leonardo because he didn't truly understand honor and destroying Raphael because of his disrespect towards her word of honor. He was surprised she hadn't formed a vendetta against pigeons for dishonoring the building by defecating on it.

If he hadn't sent her back to Japan, he probably would have had her killed. Of course, then her spirit would find a way to linger and discuss how dishonorable such a course of action was. Japan was simply easier to accomplish.

As he scowled at a section of armor that was decidedly lackluster and weighed the benefits of continuing to keep his 'daughter' alive, the Shredder was assaulted by the familiar sensation of being watched. Ever the warrior master, he sprang to his feet defensively.

"What the HELL is goin' on?" Raising his polished gauntlet and turning to battle the body attached to the voice, one can imagine his surprise when he found himself facing a single agitated turtle. Given the fact that there had been no explosions or security alerts, he deduced it was safe to assume that it had come alone. Why it had infiltrated his headquarters was perhaps another matter entirely.

But did that really matter in the long run, as long as it was here now? Never one to waste an opportunity, the Shredder smirked and attacked.

Raphael growled wordlessly, overcoming mass amounts of confusion in time to leap out of the way of Saki's strike. Right. So he was in Foot tower. With the Shredder. And he obviously hadn't been expected, which negated the theory stating that he'd been nabbed by a lingering ninja. His enemy attacked again, and as he barely evaded it he took note of the fact that his sai were missing.

Well that was just fan-fucking-tastic, wasn't it? Alone and unarmed against his family's greatest foe with no idea how he'd gotten there or what had happened to his brothers. If it had been Worst Morning Ever™ before, what the hell was he supposed to call it now?

This must have been the entrance of that ever-familiar kick to the balls he'd been expecting earlier. Life would have just been off-putting if he hadn't gotten it eventually. Just another something to take in stride.

It was as he ran out of room to maneuver in and was cornered by the Shredder that he discovered exactly how hard the proverbial kick had been. Saki, of course, wasted no time in acting, striking with the obvious intention of impaling his foe in the deadliest and most painful manner possible. Raphael closed his eyes, bracing for impact and involuntarily wincing as he heard a distant crunching noise.

After a few moments, he seemed to notice that a) he was in no pain and b) he wasn't feeling the effects of any blood loss. Confused, frustrated and feeling flat-out fucked by the universe in general, he opened his eyes and looked down, as the Shredder seemed to notice his lack of a bloody demise and did the same.

At which point they both noticed that the villain's arm had passed harmlessly through his torso and the gauntlet was embedded firmly in the wall.

Oroku Saki blinked, brow furrowed. The turtle blinked in turn, shock morphing into rage soon thereafter.

"Great! GREAT! I'M FUCKING DEAD NOW?"

And that, he decided,was the straw that broke the camel's back. Fully gripped by the sheer unfairness of the universe in general, he re-titled the experience accordingly.

Worst. Fucking. Morning. Ever. (™)

Okay, consider this particular bit ended. And profane. Consider it remarkably ended and profane, but I'm not going to be regretting that anytime soon. So don't hold your breath for any apologies, alright? *exits brusquely*

*shuffles back into view begrudgingly* Hope you're enjoying it.

And, now that I'm less agitated than when I initially typed this up: SO much thanks to Reggie (Princess Tyler Briefs) for being the guinea-pig reader on this. ^-^ I'm much obliged.