Mikey had seen a lot in his life that was weird and unexpected, a lot that he'd never thought he'd see, that went against rationality. And that was just at HOME. The stuff that had happened since he and Raph woke up at the abandoned carnival were just a different kind of weirdness.
And this was the surprise that topped them all.
"Bro. We really are in their movies here. Bro, they like us for it."
Amazing. Mind-blowing. They're just kids. The same sort of people who ran screaming from them in their New York were running and screaming to save them.
Between all the pain and hopelessness that had suddenly, completely without warning, turned into hope, Mikey was crying. Not sobbing, not anything noisy, just a constant stream of tears that he couldn't have stopped if he tried.
People were trying to save them, and Mikey really, really wanted to meet the sort of people who'd try to save two mutant freakboys whose stories they thought were radical. But mostly, he wanted to meet the guy who'd yelled "cowabunga."
He scrabbled around on the asphalt below them for something, anything, any bit of the debris that New York was good at accumulating that could help free them. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the gleam of broken glass - a tiny, small shard, but still better than nothing.
"Hey, lean over to the right. I gotta grab something."
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Mikey had seen a lot in his life that was weird and unexpected, a lot that he'd never thought he'd see, that went against rationality. And that was just at HOME. The stuff that had happened since he and Raph woke up at the abandoned carnival were just a different kind of weirdness.
And this was the surprise that topped them all.
"Bro. We really are in their movies here. Bro, they like us for it."
Amazing. Mind-blowing. They're just kids. The same sort of people who ran screaming from them in their New York were running and screaming to save them.
Between all the pain and hopelessness that had suddenly, completely without warning, turned into hope, Mikey was crying. Not sobbing, not anything noisy, just a constant stream of tears that he couldn't have stopped if he tried.
People were trying to save them, and Mikey really, really wanted to meet the sort of people who'd try to save two mutant freakboys whose stories they thought were radical. But mostly, he wanted to meet the guy who'd yelled "cowabunga."
He scrabbled around on the asphalt below them for something, anything, any bit of the debris that New York was good at accumulating that could help free them. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the gleam of broken glass - a tiny, small shard, but still better than nothing.
"Hey, lean over to the right. I gotta grab something."
He'd neglected to say whose right.