Title: Crossing Over
Ever wondered what would happen if you found yourself in a wormhole in time and dimension? Ever wondered who you might meet or what you might do?
Well it happened to me.
The reality of the situation and its endless possibilities kinda blew me away. Everyone is going ahead at full steam trying to crack the secrets of the universe with complex equations and mathematics that would make your head spin around more times than the girl in the exorcist.
I am no genius. Hell, I am a simple English rose who never really fell in love and spent her days wistfully fantasising about four green skinned, shell backed mutants who could not be real, in any shape or form. It was too absurd to think that such creatures might exist. And they don't in our dimension. The key being 'in "our" dimension'.....
Dimensions are like a load of tree branches spewing out from each other into endless little intricate twigs. Twigs of possibilities you might say. Although this is immensely deep, and I may as well start trying to explain the principles of Karma and the Occult for all they are really worth, I believe I have a story to share.
But, the most essential beginning for this story is an explanation of how this could be plausible. Going back a few steps to the Twigs of Possibilities, suddenly it dawned on me how to achieve cross-dimensional travel. And I am NOT talking about old Doctor Who re-runs or movies with the same warped logic. I'm speaking of something as old as time itself. Ever since Eve took the Big Bite from the Acidic Apple to be precise. The Twigs of Possibility really began there. You see, Eve had two choices she could make at that moment, and the simple decision followed two paths - one that led to mankind's success ... the other to mankind's downfall. Each of those dimensions are real, and exist ... somewhere. It started as the trunk, and then the split made the branches fork out in never ending possibilities. Just as there may not be any mutant shell backed hero's in our dimension ... did you ever stop to consider they may be alive and well, living in another version of our world?
Enough said. It makes my brain hurt thinking of such endless variety of life and dimensions. We are a tiny pepperoni on the Pizza of Life. All we need to do is figure out how on earth we can move from dimension to dimension, like Raph has a habit doing from rooftop to rooftop. Or as Mikey has no trouble in digesting pizza after pizza .....
Like Donny, I think too much about possibilities. It didn't do Einstein much good, and neither did it help Leonardo de Vinci. However, I firmly got it into my small brain that we may be able to cross from one dimension to another. Why the hell shouldn't we? It seems a simple question, and demands a simple answer. Why can't I cross dimensions as easily as crossing tubes on the London underground?
The key to all this begins with life itself. Life begins with a single breath, and breathing is the key to discovering all possibilities that can exist. Some may call it a fancy name such as Astral Projection or Astral Plane, but it all amounts to the same thing. The state we reach when meditating is like when we board an aeroplane to take us to some exotic destination. It's a vehicle for travelling.
I have always meditated, and through that profound state of mind found the key to open all closed doors. I share my story with you now because I believe all doors should be opened for everyone.
Come with me and journey into the world of possibility ... the story begins.
Success is a human trait, losing gracefully is a spiritual one - Gary Brook.
Tell that to my opponent, a six foot woman with a vicious uppercut. Stay away from her left hook, watch out for her sidestepping and roundhouse. Always a killer.
The martial arts are an eastern form of self defence, concentrating on speed, strength and agility to overcome an opponent. Basically, I am a champion of my sport and art .... kickboxing. It takes a lot of nerve to jump into the ring when your opponent has 'that look'. The killing look. Somehow I did it this time, as I manage to pluck up the courage each and every time. I don't enjoy fighting. I was more interested in the idea of defending myself when I first joined Gary Brook's Jujitsu and Kickboxing School. I steadily progressed until I was top of the class, so to speak. Still competitions held very little for me. I am not a natural performer, and a lot of the moves tend to be crowd pleasers. Much like a choreographed dance routine. I have two left feet when it comes to martial elegance.
Ask me to fight someone. I can do that. Ask me to parade with a pair of nunchaku for half an hour and I'll tell you where to go. Or better yet, I'll send you packing with a punch. Don't get me wrong, I don't go looking for trouble. I'm not a thug in any sense of the word. I enjoy my sport, as do tennis players and cricketers. The only difference is that instead of a ball in the face, I get a wooden shaft on a deadly chain hitting me with killer speed.
Enough said. Its tough, but then I am the very woman to do this right. I put a lot of time and effort into my training. Had it not been for the puppy dog pleading Gary is so good at, I would never had agreed to this little stage show with a woman so tall she would bang her head ungracefully on the door frame when entering the room.
She gives me the Killing Look and I almost smirk. Losing is definately going to be a learning experience for this one. Or maybe it will be my turn to bite the dust, so to speak. I hesitate, taking in the appearance of my adversary, her voluptuous and rounded form. She gazes at me, admiring my physical appearance and revelling in the battle about to begin.
She lunges forward. I sidestep away from her swift kick and counter with a hard uppercut to her chin. She reels backward and I move forward, intoxicated by the moment, the sweet smell of victory in the scent of her blood. She spits out a tooth and glares at me.
Anguish. Pain. Maybe even fear in her expression. She glares at me, masking her fear with hatred. This is amusing. Touchy brat she is, accustomed to winning and succeeding. Defeat will definately be a learning curve, something she will benefit from immensely.
"Your dead" She says in a voice which would have sent shivers up my spine if I had been a lesser person, but courage I have in abundance and I simply smile and wait for the inevitable torrent of blows to come from this enraged animal.
It doesn't take long.
Within moments, she moves forward with the speed of a panther, striking me with her elbow. I deftly block this move, instinct replacing my initial reactions with a cold precise series of actions. I retaliate with left cross and then with the palm of my hand, forcing her to reel backwards, arms flailing.
"Bitch" She gasps as her nose starts to bleed.
I do not encourage name-calling at these events. Emotions are running high in the audience and I hate to add to the pure and base emotional reactions becuase this further heightens my own feelings, and pushes me further from my goal. To win in such a dangerous sport as this, you need to make yourself devoid of emotion, to free your mind and soul. Instinct is everything, and a clear mind is essential.
But I digress.
In truth, the simple way of avoiding defeat is to become like a hard stone, impervious to emotion and hard to the plight of your adversary. It is too simple, too human an emotion to suddenly feel guilt over the pain inflicted. The real winners never think twice, they just react.
Clumsily, due to the small blood loss from her nose she moves forward to attack me once more. I dive and duck and weave as is natural to me and she begins to feel the impending defeat and her fear becomes obvious. Not just to me, but to the crowd of onlookers.
I move forward now, after wearing my opponent down a little and deliver a series of harsh blows to her stomach. She gasps, her face scrunching hideously in deep pain, and falls to her knees. The crowd, once cheering, fall silent. Then applause echoes throughout the building.
I kneel down, my victory complete and hold out my hand. Without warning, she lashes out with her fist, connecting with my jaw. A vicious under-hand move. The crowd protest, but the referree ignores the please for justice. Reeling, I see she is back on her feet and advancing towards me. I am angered becuase she played down to sucker me in. With a swift gesture, I sweep her feet from under her, and punch her hard in the face.
She is out cold. Oblivious to the sudden overwhelming cry of joy from the crowd. They are pleased to see such treachery repaid. As I was the underdog of this match, the applause is full of feeling and people are standing up and clapping. I am speechless, I am amazed.
"And the winner of this fantastic and gruelling match, featherweight Female Kickboxing champion .... the Hannurdock". The referree may as well been talking to statues, for all the interest it gained him. The crowd were looking at me, smiling, shouting their affection.
I am lost in this familiar sensation of being praised on the strength of my skill and ability. It is overwhelming.
I step down from the ring, and walk back into the changing area, flanked by reporters on either side. As soon as I enter my own room, my manager tells the reporters to leave me alone, and then follows me in.
"You did good, gal" Johnnie said with a huge smile on his face.
"Yeah?" I smile at him, and put the key into my locker. I open the door and get out a towel. I head to the showering area, and I glance at the poster above the door.
"Wonder if they would be proud" I murmer, watching the familiar splash of green on poster grey. A glimmer from a narrowed eye, glint of metal, face of desinty. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. As always, in my poster. Not real, never real.
"Of course, are you kiddin'? You are a superstar of the martial arts world" Johnnie stopped talking and moved beside me, watching the poster confused.
"I don't understand the fascination you have with them. I mean, they are not even real. Why couldn't you like Jean Claude Van Damme instead?"
I laugh and move into the shower, to be surrounded by steamy heat and pouring water. I relax. I surrender to the sensation of being free, not listening, not watching my back.
I finish and wander out of the shower, and into the changing room.
No-one is here. They have left me to my own devices. I dry myself off with the towel. I look up to see my beloved Turtles. The poster is gone.
"Johnnie!!??!" I shout, not amused. He'll get a kick in the ass for this. No-one touches my poster, no-one hides it from me.
Just like no-one touches my TMNT videos, books and comics. Only I have the privalege of touching them. I bought them, they are mine. I own them.
"Johnnie, give me back my poster" I shout, checking the shadowed corners of the room, expecting him to jump out at any moment and surprise me with poster in his left hand.
But he didn't. He wasn't in the room.
Infuriated, I walk out of the changing area into the empty arena where I only just fought. Empty. Strange, usually people linger for autographs hours after the event. This is very odd.
I collect my gear and head for the door, and let myself out. I walk along the crowded mid-day New York streets toward my home.
I feel strangely relaxed, considering the duel I have fought. I listen to the noises of traffic, the sounds of a few birds singing.
I stop in the local comic shop on the way home to see if they have any second hand TMNT comics in stock.
"Hello?" Josh greets me as I walk through the door. "What do you want?"
"Hey, its me" I am really annoyed by this greeting, or lack of "I came by in case there were any TMNT comics in stock"
"TMNT?" Josh says, bemused. "What's that?"
"You know, the Turtles" I say, trying to figure out this confusion, trying to work out what is happening. For a moment I wonder if he is playing with me, whether his face will suddenly crack into a smile. But nothing of the sort happens.
"You haven't got any?" I ask in a whisper.
"I haven't got the faintest idea what your talking about" Josh eyes me suspiciously. "We had a lot of break in's recently"
"Really? Sorry Josh, I didn't know" I gasp.
"How do you know my name?" Josh asks me, his eyes widening in shock.
"I'll leave now" I stammer. I walk out of the door and into the street.
Realms of possibility. I was unsure what was happening, but it made sense to assume if Josh didn't recognise me, then my friends wouldn't either.
I was frightened and confused. What the hell was going on?
The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles don't seem to exist either, every trace of them was gone from this strange world.
I decide to go home, and I trudge wearily along filled with suspician and worry.
At least when I get home, I can watch my Turtle episodes in peace and forget this nonsense.
When I get home.
When I get home I can eat something. I can take a shower. I can watch my TMNT DVD's. Generally, I can relax and enjoy myself. Maybe nurse my bleeding arm a little. Gift of the Bitch with the tremendous uppercut.
Only, as I came into my road and looked at my house, I did start to get an uneasy feeling.
I walk in and take my shoes off. Actually, kick them off is more precise. I move into the lounge and search around my entertainment system for my TMNT DVD's.
Search for about an hour. Finally, I take the hint they are not among my collection of martial art films and sit down in a bad mood. Its bad enough I have just fought my way to top of my league, but this? Some thief or robber would be eating his boot by the end of the evening.
But why take my TMNT DVD's?
So, I search for my TMNT comics.
May as well have been searching for a star. Nothing could be found anywhere.
By this time, I was getting thoroughly pissed off with the whole thing. I mean, no DVD's is bad enough. But no comics? No posters? No figurines, card sets, books, annuals or rip-off Toitles from Spain? This has to be a joke. The things I have taken pride in collecting for several years have just disappeared in what appears to be the blink of an eye. Or the duration of one fight even.
I switch on the news and half listen as I search my little flat. Then I listen fully, because the news is something I cannot believe.
"In local news, the Foot Clan has been brought to justice by an unknown vigilante force, known only as the Turtles....."
I am standing here, wide eyed, open mouthed. At least they didn't say Toitles. I really hate the spanish version of TMNT. It can't be happening. And, here I am in New York. Here for my fights, true. But still here. Then I realise I will be going home to England soon.
But before that happens, I think I'll do a little digging around underground.
By that, I don't mean snooping the Foot Clan headquarters.
By underground, I mean the sewers.
After all, surely I could find them? Being their biggest fan, knowing the various haunts they inhabit.
Surely it would be a simple thing to find them ......
Suddenly, a cold chill descends on me and I realise that I'm being foolish. They have never existed so why should they exist now? Why?
Then, I realise their existance has only happened since my fight.
Which means I have probably been knocked out by my opponent!!!
Still, if it is a dream, why not investigate it? Even if the Turtles only exist in a dream, its worth meeting them even so.
I begin by meditating on what I know about the Turtles. They always chose a secure underground location, something removed or off the grid. Old sewerage plants no longer in use and junctions were a good place to start.
I looked online and browsed the internet. I looked under various combinations of the Turtles title and come up blank. I even look up Toitles, the knock off brand, but no joy. I'm an action girl and I hate research, but the prospect of meeting the Turtles is too good an opportunity to miss. Even if this is just a dream because I've been knocked out.
I research old underground - and more importantly - abandoned facilities in and around the sewerage system. I find a few possible places to begin my search, but then it comes to me.
Donnie has an IT business.
I slap myself over the head in disbelief. I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier. Like Raphael, my power comes from strength and not brains. What an idiot.
Looking for the phone directory for "Donnie's Friendly IT Tech Support, 24 hours" I am totally surprised and elated when I come across his number. He has a small advert, and a picture of a friendly technician of the human kind juggling with many phones.
I ring the number immediately. It transfers me to a machine that asks me a few 'friendly' questions in Don's soft cultured tones. Things like, "Did you turn the computer on?" and "Have you plugged it in? and "If the screen is frozen, check batteries in mouse" and so forth. After a dozen quick rememdies, the phone goes silent for a second. Then in a sprightly voice, Donny askes if the problem has been solved. "Say YES to disconnect, say NO to continue."
I say "No" in a loud and clear voice. I hear the phone ringing, and hope it is putting me through to Donnie.
After six seconds, the phone is answered. "This is Donnie, your friendly IT Tech Support. How can I help you?"
I clear my throat. It's a big moment. I'm actually speaking to Donatello! "Hey, yes, I have a computer problem."
"Did you run through all the quick fixes before calling?" Donnie sounds weary. I can hear fingers drumming on the table top.
"Yep, the problem's still happening."
"What's wrong? Give me a detailed explanation of everything."
I suddenly realise my prediciment. I have Donnie on the phone, but my computer is working fine. I am no tech genius, and I have no idea what to say next. I gabble words and I can hear Don's shocked voice on the other end.
"What happenened? Are you okay?"
I had mumbled something about an explosion. I hit my head in frustration. "There were sparks coming out from it, and they still are."
"You need to disconnect the device from the power source immediately." Donnie explains patiently, his voice brightening at the thought of a real problem to get his head around. "I mean, switch it off at the plug."
I go to an empty plug socket and hit the switch so Donnie can hear the sound.
"Good, there's nothing I can do for your computer on the phone. You need to get it to someone who's qualified immediately. Its a danger to anyone who uses it. Do you know anyone who could look at it for you?" Donnie waits patiently while I try and get my brain to work. I'm furiously thinking of a reply, when Donnie comes back on. "There's a good guy I can direct you to. He lives two blocks from your home."
"You know where I live?" I can't believe it, and suddenly feel too overwhelmed to continue. I hang up and slap myself on the head again.
That went well.
The phone starts to ring, but I ignore it. I wish my words could convey as much as my actions do. It's not going to work if I can't talk without making an idiot of myself.
I decide to write a list of things to ask them. My eyes are tired after the fight and I feel myself slipping unconscious. I happily snooze on my sofa for a few hours until my keen senses detect movement. I creak open one eye and watch as my laptop is examined by a dark figure. There is a large staff on his back, and I know exactly who this shadowy figure is.
Opening my eyes fully, I look at him in amazement. "Hey, Donnie."
He freezes. Then he turns slowly and looks directly at me. I can barely see his face in the shadows and his expression is unreadable.
Donnie sighs, and comes fully into view. He's looking weary and ready for the screaming to start. when I don't react negatively, he smiles a little and crosses his arms. His voice is softer than the tinny voice at the end of the phone, and a lot more gentle and revealing. "We need to talk."
"Do you want to sit down?" I ask Donny, watching him warily. He seems tense and highly alert, the way I usually am before a fight.
"I'll be fine here." Donny stands still, an unmoving presence in my apartment. "The computer looks fine, by the way."
Oh, crap. I stand up and place my hands out in front of me in an appeasing gesture. "I couldn't get it out right. I suck at words. I didn't mean to panic you. I'm sorry."
"So what's wrong with it then?" Donny asks, his voice becoming slightly irritated. His arms unfold and his fists clench.
"Actually, not a thing." I try to move towards him, but he takes a step back. Recoiling. I must admit, I'm hurt a little by that. Everything about my posture screams that I'm not a threat to him. "I needed to talk to you and the guys. I've only just gotten here, in this world, your world, and I haven't a clue how it happened. I've known about you guys since I was little, and you've no idea how you've affected my world, my dimension. Or, whatever it's called."
Donny scratches his head. He is rapidly losing patience at my scramble of desperate words. He isn't convinced by my explanation, and he is considering whether I am friend or foe. "Is this a trap?"
I didn't miss the dangerous edge to his voice. He was itching to pull out his bo, to have confirmation that I was an enemy.
"No, no. I'm no threat. I don't work for your enemies. I was in a fight, I had a shower, then I was in your world. I need your help."
Donny's movements were fluid and rapid as he pulled out his bo and stood before me in a ready stance. He was shifting his weight from one leg to another as he kept himself stretched and ready to move. "A fight?"
Wrong thing to say. Donny now considered me a threat.
I was becoming exasperated. I moved forward and Donny moved like a tornado. One moment he was before me, the next I was on the ground with him glaring above me, bo pressed against my throat. I felt myself gasping for air as Don finally released the stranglehold slightly, allowing me to speak.
"Donny, please!" I gasped.
Donny didn't move. I felt my anger cresting as I finally decided I had put up with Don long enough. I didn't want to hurt him, but he was making this difficult. The whole process had been a nightmare.
I wrapped my hands on his staff and pushed upwards. Donny held on like a steel weight, and I could barely budge it. Rolling my eyes, I swept his legs suddenly. He tumbled on top of me, the bo now dislodged from my throat and falling to the floor with a clatter.
The air was knocked out of me as his full weight collapsed on me and I fought to throw him to one side. I wrapped my legs around his shell and tried to pivot my body, but Don had my arms in a vice-like grip and glared down at me.
"Stop fighting!" I heard the commanding words and fell still and silent immediately. I was in a state of shock from hearing something more suited to Leonardo coming from Don's gentle mouth. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know who you are working for."
I groaned in disappointment. "I am not working for anyone. Don! Let me up."
"Not yet." Don released my hands and sat up. He was still glaring down at me, his legs straddling either side of my body.
I had an opportunity. I took it with both hands and then some. I pivoted, sending him off-balance and crashing to the floor as we reversed positions and I was now straddling him. His shell made this an awkward venture, and I fought to keep my balance as he watched me with wide eyes.
"Donny. I am not working for anyone. I need your help." I felt a sudden wave of hopelessness descend, and I fought for the right words to express what I needed to explain to Don. A way to make him understand.
Letting out a frustrated groan, I dipped my head close to his and looked into his eyes. We were nose to beak, and he let out a small gasp of surprise. "I am not an enemy. I need to talk to you about some science fiction crap that's happened to me."
"Then get talking." Donny hissed, his voice a growl of growing impatience.
"I need your help. I'm in the wrong place. The wrong dimension." I leaned back, watching as his eyes narrowed.
He did not believe a word I was saying.
"Let me prove it then. Ask me some questions about you guys." I cross my arms and look defiantly at the turtle beneath me.
"Anything?" Donny arches an eye ridge.
"Anything!" I am beyond irritated.
"What did we get Mike for Christmas this year?" Don asks quietly as he suddenly reverses positions with me violently and holds my hands by my wrists above my head. His weight is crushing me and I gasp at his unfair question.
"I'm not psychic, Don! I just know a lot about you and your family. Stop pinning me." I snarl and twist in his grip but he is like a sturdy rock above me - spread out over my body and keeping me as still as possible.
"No." Donny says in a quiet voice. "Tell me what you know. Now."
"Okay. Okay." I draw in a deep breathe and tell him everything I know. Which isn't much. "I found myself in your world. It just happened. One minute I was in my own world, the next I was in yours."
"You're telling me the truth?" Donny's eyes narrow as he looks into my own, as if scouring my pupils for signs of deceit.
"Yes!" I shoot daggers into his eyes and they soften and he get's off me, holding out a hand to help me up.
"I can get up on my own." I grumble, ignoring the offered hand and getting clumsily to my feet.
"Would you come with me to the lair and talk to my brothers and Master Splinter?" Donny asks. I sense this is not a request.
"Of course! I'm not hiding anything." I cross my arms in indignation and Donny smiles a little.
"Then let's get a move on. I need my Master's advice on this problem." Donny gestures to the window and the fire escape.
I don't think he'll let me use the front door. He wants to keep a firm eye on me.
"You are so impatient." I moan as I jump out of the window and onto the firing escape. Donny is beside me within seconds, his footfalls making absolutely no sound.
"I'll lead the way. You follow." Donny takes the fire escape two steps at a time as he takes point and I follow dutifully.
At the first manhole cover we reach in the alley, he scoops it up in his powerful arms and gestures for me to climb into the foul-smelling pit below.
"Don. I don't think I can ..." I can feel my whole body recoiling at the invading smells from below.
Donny puts the lid back on the manhole cover and crosses his arms. He looks at me with humour sparkling in his eyes. "You know everything about us, but you can't even go down into the sewer?"
"If you want me to go down there you'll have to knock me out and carry me!" I defiantly cross my arms and wait for Don's reaction.
For a moment he stands still, brooding. Then, he's behind me in a flash of green, his arm tightening across my neck. "As you wish."
I fight back but his arms are too powerful for me to dislodge. I try kicking at his legs, but he moves artfully out of the way of each attempted strike.
"Wait ... I ..." My lids are becoming heavy and I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.
At the last moment, before black spots fill my fading vision, I feel the pressure around my neck ease and then everything goes black.
I wake with a pounding headache to the sounds of raised, anxious voices. Clawing my way back to consciousness, I keep my eyes closed as I listen to the conversation erupting around me.
"Bringing her here was a bad idea, Don."
"What else could I do? She said she knows all about us!"
"What if she's working for The Foot? You led her right here!"
"I know what I'm doing, Leo. If she's a threat, I'd rather have her here where I can keep an eye on her."
"Donny did da right ting, Leo. He had ta."
"You would say that, Raph. I remember a time you did the same thing yourself."
"Hey, dat worked out okay. April is a good friend, Leo."
"What if she's bugged, Raph? What if she's sending a signal to our enemies right now?"
"I've checked, Leo. She's not bugged. Do you really think I'd bring her straight to the lair without checking her over first?"
"Fearless, let it go. Splinta'll deal wid it."
"I think this is a mistake."
"Let it go, Leo. I mean it."
I crack open an eye and spot all four turtles standing over me, their shells to me as they argue. Then I see the first thing that actually has a calming effect on me. Master Splinter limps into view.
"Am I a prisoner?" I croak, feeling a wave of disappointment crash over me. I didn't expect meeting them to be like this.
But then again, what did I really expect from highly trained and lethal ninjas? They were warriors and most people they came across had pointy weapons aimed straight at them. They were always battling to stay alive. Of course they would see me as a potential threat.
"You are our guest, child." Splinter's warm and sincere voice cuts straight through the confusion as the turtles turn to face me, worried expressions on their faces. His presence is like a warm blanket among a snowstorm.
"I was knocked unconscious." I grumble as I try to rise to a sitting position. Master Splinter lays a reassuring arm on mine as helps me to sit up and I glare at his sons with a hurt expression.
"Easy, young one." Splinter pats my shoulder gently. "Donatello had no choice. You were resisting him and wouldn't have come willingly."
"Are you going to hurt me?" I ask, my eyes widening at the four turtles standing above me. They seem so cold and ruthless.
"No, we will not harm you. You are completely safe in our Lair. I must ask, however, that you refrain from trying to leave until we work out what has happened." Splinter nods to me and I sigh and shake my head, defeated.
"Whatever. I want to sort this out too." I glare at Donny who crosses him arms defiantly and looks away.
"What is your name, child?" Splinter crouches beside me and takes hold of my hand in his. His furry and warm extremity fills me with a gentle hope.
"Hannurdock. At least, that's my fighting name."
"Fightin' name?" Raph raises an eyebrow.
"Hey, I do kickboxing tournaments. That's why I'm in New York in the first place."
"I see. How do you know about us in the first place?" Leo glares down at me.
I sigh with exasperation. "I wouldn't know where to begin." Looking around me at the hardened faces of the turtles, I turn away and add in a small voice, "This isn't how I imagined meeting you guys would be. I thought you'd be ... nicer somehow."
"Then start at the beginning." Splinter advised. "Take us back to the first time you ever heard about ninja turtles."
"Okay." I take a deep breath and settle back into the seat, remembering how I first knew of the term 'Ninja Turtle.' "I was nine years old and being bullied at school. I came across a cartoon that was about you guys. There were comic books about you and the 'Ninja Turtle Craze' was all over the news."
"Interesting." Donny's eyes had softened as I told my story. "So in your world, we are known to everybody? How does that affect us in New York?"
"Do we get interviewed a lot? Have a hit record?" Mikey adds, his eyes lighting up.
"Erm, not really. You exist only in fiction." I can't meet their eyes as they look at me with disbelief.
"We're a fad?" Raph growls. "That it? Like da X-Men?"
"Yes, actually." I shuffle in my seat a little, uncomfortable.
"How did you get here?" Donny asks, his eyes wide with excitement.
"I dunno. I was kinda hoping you would explain it." I look to him hopefully.
Donny sits next to me and nods. "Take if from start of your adventure. You said something about a fight?"
"Yes." I take a deep breath and tell them how I arrived from my world into theirs. The tale doesn't take too long. I'm not that adept at wording out stories.
"I think we need to see the shower room you spoke of. The transference you described probably happened whilst you were in there. It might be a dimensional door that opens from your world into ours. Or ..." Donny stops speaking and looks up into the eyes of his eldest brother, Leonardo.
"Or what, Don?" I ask, seeing the worried expression stamped on his green features. "What? Tell me!"
"Or ... it might just be a one-off event. A rip through dimensions that only opened the one time. If that's the case, then it isn't a doorway you will be able to re-use."
"Oh." I sit back, my shoulders hunching. I don't like the idea of that.
"You say that you had an apartment here just like the one back in your own dimension? That means that you might have swapped places with yourself in this world. A version of you is most likely stranded in your dimension."
"How do you figure that, Don?" I ask, irritated that someone is most probably going through my personal belongings back in my own dimension.
"You haven't met yourself. You would have probably been disturbed at the apartment if there was a duplicate of you here in our world." Donny shifts closer seeing my horrified expression. "These are only theories, however. We really need to see the place you crossed over into our dimension. Namely, in the shower room."
"Right." I get to my feet and follow the turtles as they lead me from their lair into a lightning sky. Dawn is approaching fast. Sensing the need for speed, I take them back to where I fought earlier in the day. As we sneak into the facility, I lead the guys to the shower cubicle. "Knock yourself out, Don." I point at the cubicle I used and step aside for the technical turtle to investigate.
Donny produces a small machine with a high-pitched whirring noise coming from it. He moves it around the cubicle deep in thought, and the machine goes wild suddenly. "I think, lady and turtles, we have our tear in space. Or, we did have a tear in space. Whatever fissure was created here has now gone."
"Gone?" I gasp and look open-mouthed at Donatello. "Great! So tell me this, genius. How the hell am I going to get home?"
Work in progress...