2088/Dude, where's my quiet time

Dude, where's my quiet time
Date of Scene:	12 June 2020
Location:	Turtle Lair
Synopsis:	The turtles hang out, and bond over meditation, machines, and dodging spitballs.
Cast of Characters:	Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, Donatello

---

Leonardo has posed:
Finally. Peace and Quiet. His brothers were either not home, or at least, not rowdy enough to interrupt him at this particular second. So Leo entered his zen meditation circle, which he'd carefully crafted under Splinter's instruction, and sat down inside it to clear his mind of thoughts, clear his mind of feelings, and just exist at peace with the universe! Surely nothing will interrupt him, and he'll get a good meditation in. Surely...

Michelangelo has posed:
"Sssh-sh-sh--!"

The hurried sounds of hushness may just be able to be heard from the ever-vigilant Leonardo. Or perhaps not, given his state of deep meditation. Regardless, hidden behind the nearby couch like the ninja he is, perhaps with another of his brothers, an orange-bandana wearing turtle humanoid assembles the most glorious weapon of all time: the paper spitball straw gun. Michelangelo can barely contain himself, the ever-present grin on his face so wide that it threatens to burst out into excited laughter as he loads the straw with the moist ammunition. "This is gonna be so good!" He whispers.

Earlier a wager had been made. Would Leo snap the spitball out of the air like a supreme badass? Or would it just hit him square in the back of the head? Mikey believed it would be the latter, so much so that he had placed //two// cans of orange crush on the line. "Alright. Ready? Here goes."

Peaking out from the side of the couch, the youngest of the brother brings the straw to his lips. Baby blue eyes narrow in focus as he takes aim, squaring the meditating turtle up from about twenty feet away.

Raphael has posed:
Raphael crouches nearby, eyes narrowed on the setup between Michelangelo and the seemingly unaware Leonardo.

He knows better.

"Hey, Shell-for-brains, you already know he's just gonna do something in time and you're gonna look like a dummy," he says, his voice low. And yet, he watches. Why?

Because you never know when it might just work, and he can't miss the opportunity to see it. Even as he was about to go off for pizzas, the creeping, youngest turtle drew his attention long enough to pause.

Leonardo has posed:
Alas, no Orange Sodas were to be in Mikey's future. Instead of doing something aggressive, or badass, Leo chose the graceful option, bowing forward as if to an unseen Master...and lets the spitball sail right over him. Bending as the reed, meeting this unwarranted attack from his brother with...nothing at all, really. He sits up again, as if nothing at all had happened.

A voice from elsewhere says, "Good, my son. Some attacks need not be met at all." Splinter, for sure.

Michelangelo has posed:
Despite the lack of encouragement from Raph, Mikey focusses as best he can. When he puta his mind to something, he can really get into the zone! The problem? Finding the motivation. Clearly, hitting his brother with a spitball ticks the correct boxes.

//Thwpt//.

The spitball effortlessly slides from the long, red plastic straw. Then there is just... the wait. The perfectly crafted spitball spins through the air, turtle-saliva flinging off it with a disgusting sort of grace. With speed and precision it zooms across the room - clearing some old pizza boxes in its wake. The blue-eyed turtle watches with intent, grimacing in anticipation. For a brief moment it looks like it's going to hit! Mikey dares to get his hopes up. Then Leo just... leans forward?

Michelangelo gapes in surprise, mouth hanging ajar as Splinter echoes his wise words from afar. It's possible he's gaping because of the cool move, but it's more likely because he just lost his precious soda. "No fair," He protests, standing up from his hiding place with a grump. "Raph //totally// gave me away. If he didn't say anything I would have hit for sure." Michelangelo turns to pivot on his foot, eyeballing Raphael for a moment.

"Hey, you going out to get pizza? Should we check in on April or something? Topside is a mess at the moment with all this alien invasion stuff going on."

Raphael has posed:
Everything seems to reach a crawl, the spitball moving in slow motion.

Through their training, sparring often has the same result, leading to real encounters with the Foot in particular that have just felt too easy. They were too fast, too well-trained, and nearly everything the Foot tried felt like it was like an amateur attacking a master.

"Tsk. So close, yet so far. Maybe one of these days you'll get him, Mikey. Keep trying. Don't ever give up." Of course Raphael's going to encourage Michelangelo in this goal of his. The entertainment level would be off the charts when it actually works.

Holding up his hands at the accusation, he says, "Little bro, you were talking too, you know. And it ain't like I went, 'HEY, LEO! MIKEY'S SHOOTING A SPITBALL AT YOU!' or anything." Shifting away from the failed effort, he gathers up a couple things including a beanie and an oversized set of sweats. "Nah, I'm pretty sure she's all right, but if it makes you feel any better I'll swing by her place on the way just in case. Later, losers."

It's said lightly, at least for Raph, and he throws a wave over a shoulder as he makes his way out, stuffing the clothing into a backpack to change into before he reaches the surface.

Leonardo has posed:
Leo can't help but smile, even in the middle of his meditations. In truth, the voices WERE a dead give away...but even if his brothers were as quiet as Splinter taught them to be, listening for something as quiet as a blowgun dart...or a spitball in this case...IS in fact part of the training. Poison can take a turtle out, if it's the right kind of poison, and they had to be prepared for poison attacks from the Foot.

Leo does speak up, "Even you two hadn't been talking, avoiding blowguns is part of the training, remember? Spitballs make more noise than a finely honed poisoned dart."

Michelangelo has posed:
"Aw, come on dude." Mikey pines to Leo and his training. "We both know you're not getting around //my// spitballs. They're the stuff of legend. Ninja spitballs are no joke."

"TELL HER I SAY HI!" Mikey hollers after Raphael as he departs the Lair, before falling onto the couch that he was hiding on just moments ago with a 'thump'. "Shouldn't we be out there and helping the world fight?" The honest question, one made of wonder and curious thought is made as his attention falls to one of the three televisions has been on during this entire time, albeit on mute. On it are pictures and reports of the various events going on in the city. "I mean, I've seen Independence Day. When aliens come and attack from outer space, it's up to everyone to band together and help. Don't you remember the speech that the President gave in that movie? SO cool." The turtle shivers at the memory.

"All we need is an alien ship to go up against the mother ship. I'm sure Donny can turn our van into one." Reaching for an already-open packet of chips, Mikey starts to chow down as he watches the vision in front of him.

Leonardo has posed:
"Ask Donnie about ships...that's his deal." Leo seems to realize, with all the talking being done, no further meditation is going to get done just now. So he rises, steps out of the circle, and considers more seriously the question of the outside world.

"There are a lot of things we can do from the shadows, Mikey. We are making the world a better place. But we need to choose very carefully who to bring into the circle. Once someone knows, they won't ever forget. And not everyone is honorable enough to keep our secrets."

Donatello has posed:
    "Ask me about what?"

    Donatello comes into the lair, looking a little worse for the wear. He was supposed to have gone out to check out some electronics surplus, but he looks like he's been roughed up a little. He moves quick enough, but with a little bit of a drawl in his step. As Donnie moves past his workbench, he takes a roll of duck tape in one of his hands.

    Once Donnie gets near the couch, he vaults over it and lands next to Mikey, sighing as he sinks into the cushions.

Michelangelo has posed:
"Uggghhhhhh," Michelangelo groans, head rolling back so that he stares at the ceiling, half-stale chips still getting crunched. "I guess. It just sucks being down here all the time. And now it sort of sucks being top side with all the other stuff goin' on. No more parades or parties are happenin', know what I'm saying?" Not that he was going to the parties. Right? Right.

Donatello's sudden arrival earns a quick jump from the youngest brother, who sits up and watches him slink in. "I was just sayin', you could totally mod our van up to fly in space, right?" As if that idea doesn't sound preposterous enough, Mikey expands: "...then we can enter the enemy alien mothership and disable the shiields from the inside. Then Superman and Green Lantern and the other heroes can take 'em down?" Essentially just the plot from Independence Day. The turtle looks like he's going to expand even further, but as Donatello collapses into the couch wearily, Mikey tilts his head with a careful eye. "You alright, bro? You, uh, figure out... the thingy thing?" He must mean electronics surplus. "...you know. The thing."

Leonardo has posed:
Leo seems content to listen for the moment...although he does add that, "Something that flies, at least, is a pretty good idea. You'll probably have to build up to space flight, but it'd be good to get in the air for strategic purposes." Leo has many things to consider. "We might also need to get to Japan in a hurry, and public transport isn't a great idea for that..."

Donatello has posed:
    Donatello nods his head slowly at Michelangelo, his eyes closed. "Flight," Donnie replies, opening his eyes and smiling. "We could do something like that. Maybe not the /van/ but something."

    Donnie slowly extends the roll of duck tape to Michelangelo. "Say, Mikey," Donnie begins. "Could you tape me up?" He leans forward to expose two small holes in his shell, both roughly the size of a throwing star.

Michelangelo has posed:
"The van could //totally// transform into a ship, Donny." Michelangelo explains, "...it would just go 'sssh-kerrrrnn-brnnnn'." The turtle makes a motion with his hands and fingers, as if it explains everything. "I have faith in you, bro. You can do it." The follow-up question from Donatello earns a mild frown, before his eyes widen at the small holes in the exposed shell. "Duuuuuude." That says it all, really. Tracing his fingers over the wounds, Michelangelo bits his bottom lip. "Did you get hit by some shuriken?" Taking the duct tape after the initial assessment is made, Michelangelo rips off a few pieces and does his best to patch his brother up. It's not a perfect patch-job, but it's likely to do the trick without much fuss. "What kind of thing could throw something at you to cause that sort of damage? Raph just left -- is he going to be okay?"

"Wait, what?" Mikey spins on his place, kneeling up on the couch now to look at Leo. "We're going to Japan? Why? When?! NANI?!"

Leonardo has posed:
"We're not going to Japan today...but the reach of the Foot clan is strong in Japan, and we may need to go there for one reason or another. I can't see every possibility, but I do know we need to be prepared for that one. We may be from America, but our Master is not, and defending his homeland is a thing we might be called on to do." Leo, just trying to be prepared for anything that could possibly happen.

Donatello has posed:
    Donatello nods to Michelangelo. "I went to that electronics store on eighth street. I thought it might be nice to loot around in their dumpsters, but..."

    A glance is given to Leo before he nods to Michelangelo. "The Foot were there." As Michelangelo tapes his shell, Donnie smiles over his shoulder and nods. "Thanks, dude," he says, pulling two throwing stars from his belt. They both have the Foot insignia carved into them.

Michelangelo has posed:
"The Foot were at the electronics depot down on eighth?" Mikey asks to confirm, sitting back on the couch now. "Dude, you should have called us or something. Typical Foot, probably out harassin' and hasslin' people with all the chaos goin' on!" Hmph. "I'm glad you managed to get back okay though. Sheesh, they weren't kiddin' around." A quick examination of the shuriken is made. "These things are no joke. Pointy as stale pizza crusts."

"Oh. Right." Michelangelo calms down when Leo clarifies, perhaps a bit disappointed that he wouldn't get to experience the Japanese culture so soon after all. "Well, I'm definitely in support of hitting that place up. What kind of pizza do you think they have over there?" Hmmm. "...probably some sort of gnarly fish supreme. Anyway, I'm totally up for kicking some Foot clan butt." Mikey punches his right fist into his other palm. "Whether it be here at home or abroad. I've been watching these Bruce Lee movies lately and have some cool move ideas I wana try on 'em! Heh heh."

Sliding off the couch, Michelangelo sniffs a bit before strolling over to one of the consoles. "I'm playin' some Smash. Anyone want in?" Picking up one of the controllers, the turtle plants himself in front of the TV. "Need //somethin'// to do while waiting for Raph to get back."