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“ And behold , from their perch atop New York City, the Krang ripped open the sky itself”
A younger kid shivered at the commander’s intense words, another clutching their stomach like they may vomit from sheer suspense as the woman in front of them made another of her dramatic pauses, looking out over the five kids in front of her with a proud grin.
“What came out was terror ,”
All eyes were upon her, and only her. Everyone, even the scarce amount of adults in the room had their eyes trained on the soldier in front of them - eating the story up out of the palm of her hand.
“ and what rained down upon us was worse than death. . . ”
The group of children collectively held their breath, waiting for the commander’s next move. Everything, and everyone, was still as stones. Not a sound disturbed her pause; the story even lured in the two teens towards the back, despite them having heard the story many times before now.
Just as everyone expected her to continue the grim tale, the professor made their practiced entrance - catching their cue directly on mark. Punctual, per usual.
The terrapin burst from their shadowed hiding spot, throwing a carefully curated, smaller, smoke bomb to the ground in front of them - verbalizing a boisterous "BAM!" in sync with the faux bomb.
The five children screamed in terror - two younger children clutching each other tightly, as if accepting their fate, while two others booked it towards their parents, looks of terror written upon their faces. The two teenagers squealed in terrified joy - a small, black-haired boy joining them from his spot in the dwindled numbers of the once group of kids.
Donatello burst into a fit of cackles and snickers, highly amused at the sight before them. Their wife joined in their hysterics from her spot on the ground beside them, clutching the softshell's prosthetic leg for support as she guffawed.
The softshell bent their knees, resting their hands on their thighs as they almost buckled under their own weight in their fit of levity.
Donatello scrunched their eyes closed, wiping hysteric tears from their eyes as they huffed out their last breaths of laughter - patting the black-clad woman beside them on the shoulder deliriously.
The commander’s shoulders shook with barely contained laughter - her smile bright and uncontrollable in her signature maniacal way that the softshell loved.
"Tha…That will never get old!" They gasped out, gripping their Bo staff tightly to steady themself.
Their wife - Cassandra - airily tapped her partner's faux knee, her voice facetious in comparison to the other adults nearby - a few having taken to glaring at them now, clearly irritated about their antics and the collateral damage that was their children.
"Never will," she agreed, huffing out barely contained chuckles.
Cassandra flipped her gaze up towards her partner, obsidian optics staring into their own as she firmly tugged the softshell down to the ground next to her. The purple-clad terrapin allowed themself to lightly fall to the ground, butt hitting the stiff floor beneath them.
The softshell offered her a ghost of a smile, eyes grazing the monochromatic base surrounding them as they calmed significantly. A yokai - one who never seemed to take a liking to their high jinks - was shooting daggers their way. The purple-masked turtle narrowed their eyes in turn, happy with the way the yokai faltered under their scrutiny. A smug grin curled its way up Donnie’s beak.
The two teens giggles started to subside from their spot at the back wall, mischievous murmurs emitting from their bench.
“Good to see you, Professor!” The older of the teens shouted their way, a few stray giggles slipping through.
“You two gotta do that more often!” The other chortled, leaning on his friend as he composed himself.
Donatello offered the two a smile, chuckling lightly at their rare excitement. The apocalypse didn't allow the same energetic joy that life before had. For most, there was barely a moment to catch their breath and let loose; so, little moments like this - something as trivial as listening to an intense, attention-grabbing story - where you could let your guard down, have a laugh even, we're some of the best moments.
The softshell enjoyed seeing the joy they and Cassandra's retelling of the Krang's initial invasion brought to others. Older members often found the story to be too gruesome and heart-wrenching to listen to - but the younger members? They ate the recital up like it was their version of candy.
Donatello wishes that some would appreciate their theatrics as much as the children did; but, they suppose that was a bit to ask for during the apocalypse.
The commander laughed along with the teens, her grin still huge and toothy as it was before. Never faltering.
“I do have to ask, where did you get the smoke bomb from?” Cass questioned curiously as she turned towards her partner, “We never used those before because we didn’t have the materials.”
“Ehh… Don’t worry about it,” The softshell replied flippantly, waving the question off.
The smoke bombs weren’t exactly easy to procure; however, Hypno had managed to acquire a few for himself and his partner’s own usage on missions. With a little persuasion, they’d manage to obtain a few. Not many, but enough to keep the theatrics of their story consistent for a while. It was generous of them - an act of generosity Donatello appreciated them for having in times such as this.
Cassandra scoffed light-heartedly, wrapping an arm around the softshell’s shoulders, guiding them to lean into the wall behind them.
The air of the base calmed considerably, disgruntled and amused adults alike filtering through the rooms quietly as they dispersed. The terrapin slowly started to relax against the wall, a small smirk making its presence known as they watched the black haired boy from the group of kids make his way towards them.
Cassandra allowed the child - Casey Jr. - to fall into her lap, seating himself atop her criss-crossed legs.
“You never finished the story!” Casey informed them, crossing his arms in a feigned pout.
Cassandra raised a brow, “You already know the end-”
“Yeah, but it's gooood!” The boy exclaimed, weakly shaking his mother’s arm, “You gotta finish it!”
Donatello chuckled at their son’s antics, relishing in the excitement the story brought him, even after hearing it before. They had to admit, while the Krang were a great source of fear and trauma, they did make for excellent horror stories.
The Krang’s initial invasion upon New York City had surprisingly become quite a staple story throughout the base, despite many becoming uncomfortable at the contents of said story. After they had reunited with Cassandra all those years ago, Donatello and her had taken to telling the grim tale, with their own flair - which children had been the most receptive to; including their own adoptive son.
Telling the story had been some of the most fun Donnie had gotten in this apocalyptic world, even if they’d never admit it out loud. They had actually enjoyed thinking of ways to scare the children of the rebellion in their gruesome re-telling - finding the best hiding places and obtaining smoke bombs curated to their needs.
Something that Donatello loved most of all about these story-times though, was Cassandra. The way their wife would go all out with them - never holding back a maniacal laugh or dramatic pause. Never suppressing her pure fits of laughter as they both spiraled into hysterics in their collective mirth.
These times were some of the scarce light they had in the apocalypse; and while Donatello may have acted more distant, due to their high workload and closed-off act, they truly did love these moments that broke up the monotony.
The moments where Mikey lit up at the prospect of making a good meal, or Leo got to let loose and treat everyone to a break. The little moments humanity and yokai-kind alike would have taken advantage of before. Those were the moments Donatello cherished now, no matter how stoic they may act around others.
As the softshell watches Cassandra tell the rest of the story to Casey Jr. - spooky faces and all - a soft smile rests across their face. They relax their body against the wall, minimizing their Bo staff in a swift click.
It’s not often they get to relax their muscles with them being in their workshop all day, however many days there are in a week now.
But, the terrapin could almost feel an eye roll escape their features as their wrist communicator lights up - beeping in its familiar calm frenzy.
Alas, the dead never sleep.