Part two of a series of sorts.
A heartfelt thank-you out to Longing_for_Leo, narukunohime, 54Viruses and RoudyRedd for their wonderful reviews on Hum, I appreciate it! And another thanks out to Angelus.m23 for reading this over for me, you rock!
Note- Don't let the word series intimidate you, you don't have to read the other story to understand this one. I use 'series' very loosely.
Disclaimer- I don't own the ninja turtles, nor would anyone ever allow me to own them. A sad truth.
Mikey was always moving.
He was a little ball of energy, constantly zipping, bouncing and zooming everywhere he went; never stopping for a moment.
He was afraid of stopping. Terrified of freezing once and never starting up again.
Stopping meant staying still; the kind of stillness he hoped never to see on anyone he knew.
Twitching was just as bad.
He'd seen too many horror films to not know what twitching meant.
Electrocution, possession, zombies; he could name them all; even write an encyclopedia on the topic.
When someone twitched, things didn't end well.
In movies- as much as he could relate to the characters and despite how real it seemed- in some part in the back of his mind he knew they were just acting. After it was all said and done, each scream just melted into laughter and everyone went home to nice warm beds and happy families; even the dead ones.
Things were different in the real world.
In reality, there were no second takes or stunt-doubles, no scripts or directors telling you what to do. There was no way of knowing exactly what was going to happen next. No special effects, no CGI, just real blood, sweat and tears.
He liked to think that if one of them really got hurt, there'd be a director yelling "Cut!" and they'd all laugh and grab a slice before going home. But he knew that was just wishful thinking.
That was the absolute worst part about twitching.
To him or his brothers, a single twitch could make the difference between a safe return home to Master Splinter, or a missing family member. No stunt-double to fake the fall, just a cold hard truth.
Of course, when put into context, everything changes.
What if a twitch could make the difference between winning or loosing; the single separation between saving the day or the unthinkable?
What if a twitch could save a family members life?
What if the choice wasn't between himself and his family? What if he had to choose between brothers, or between friends?
Some might say that the choice between loved ones is an impossible one to predict without knowing the circumstances; but he knew exactly what his own reaction would be.
It wasn't a matter of choosing, it was how quickly he could move.
He knew that if there was any single thing he could do to prevent that mind-numbing stillness from swallowing the ones he loved; he'd do it no questions asked.
Just like the final battle between the loveable, battleworn hero and the sinister supervillan in the last pages of a beloved comic; he'd risk it all. Just for that chance.
In that final moment, with the frantic beating of his own heart echoing in his skull and beneath the frenzied panic welling in his stomach, he knew.
Even as the fear registered on his brothers face and the truth of what he was about to do finally hit him full force, he didn't turn back.
His mind was made up long before the gun had even been brought into play.
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