Chapter Text
Chat: Donatello ^ Michelangelo
@purple: Mikey, where'd you disappear to at the morning? / 4:05AM
@orange: Oh hey Donnie! Morning was too boring so I hit the rooftops with my board / 4:05AM
@purple: stay safe out there / 4:10AM
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MIKEY'S POV.
Mikey was shredding it across the rooftops of New York. Yeah, yeah, he'd already skated through the sewers like a million times — so he decided to level up. And man, was he having the time of his life, gliding over the sleeping city. He zoomed across a few blocks, then skidded to a stop to figure out his next move. Don't get him wrong — he could skate forever — but Splinter had scheduled morning training, and Mikey was not about to spend all day doing Jujutsu reps. No thanks, Sensei.
Then Mikey noticed he'd ended up in this super weird stance while daydreaming — one foot on the edge of his board, the other dangling off the rooftop. He tried to correct it, and — whoa — he somehow flipped backward, his board rolling to the edge. That was sick. Mikey had to do it again. As he flipped, wind hit his face and he squinted against it, catching the faint sound of music drifting from a café below. He did the trick one more time. Even better. Mikey was so showing this to his bros after training (once Sensei went to meditate — because Splinter hated when Mikey skated indoors).
After nailing the trick a third time, Mikey decided to hit up Antonio's Pizzeria — because hello, he just realized he was starving. But on his way there, he spotted this massive graffiti wall smack-dab in the middle of a rooftop! Forget pizza (and yes, that's a big deal coming from Mikey), he had to check it out. Three spray cans were lying right there — score! No art supply crisis today.
Mikey rolled up, grabbed one that looked yellow, and paused. What should he paint?
Then a pigeon landed on the wall, and behind it, the sunrise was just starting to peek over the skyline. The buildings looked small and black, and the pigeon was just a dark silhouette against all that orange and pink. It was beautiful. Mikey got to work, dancing along to some funky beat from the café below, painting the sunset in red 'cause there was no pink. He was adding the sun when — shiver — he felt someone watching him.
Mikey's hand casually drifted to his nunchucks. He found 'em. He turned slowly.
Perched on a lamppost like a spider, was this... figure. Red-and-blue suit. Mask. Kinda spider, kinda human. Another mutant? Mikey blinked. Nope, still there.
Mikey eyed him. Okay, so the guy wasn't attacking. That was a good sign. Anyone who wanted to hurt him or his bros would've jumped him by now. Curious, Mikey kept his hand near his belt but relaxed a little.
Then the Web-Head dropped down, landing in some kinda battle pose.
They stared.
And stared.
Mikey got bored.
— Uh... heyyyy. Can't sleep either?
Spider-Man blinked, then tilted his head.
— Whoa. You're... a real turtle? Not a costume? And you talk? Dude, that's... that's wild. Okay, look — I came to say this: you don't mess with New Yorkers, we don't have a problem. Deal? Also... what even are you?
Mikey grinned, relaxing fully and tucking his nunchucks away.
— Dude, obviously I'm a real talking turtle. And chill — I'm not some evil mastermind. I'm a ninja.
— A ninja turtle. Okay. Sure. That's... that's a thing now. So. What's your name?
— I'm Michelangelo! The one and only, baby! Artist, ninja, skateboarder extraordinaire! And you? You like, a mutant too or what?
— I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I protect the city, keep the streets clean — y'know, the usual.
— NO WAY. Me and my brothers do the same thing! Well, except we're ninjas, so we're, like... invisible. How come I've never heard of you, Spider-man?
— You have brothers? Oh, great. So there's four of you running around New York at night like some kinda turtle apocalypse? And — wait — I’ve never heard about you and your brothers neither.
— Dude, we're ninjas. We're hidden. It's literally in the job description.
A pause. Mikey tilted his head.
— So... what's your real name? Y'know, mask off?
Spider-Man tensed up.
— Uh, I'm just a local guy who swings around saving people. And who's gonna be really tired tomorrow if he doesn't go home. Like, now.
— Oh, you live far?
— Michelangelo, I live at work. And my work is in Queens.
— So you're from Queens?
— ...Yeah, let's go with that.
Another pause. Then Spider-Man relaxed a little.
— Okay, so you seem harmless — for a giant talking turtle. And if you're really protecting the city... maybe we could, y'know, team up sometime? Swing together, stop some crooks? Just a thought.
— DUDE. That's awesome. I'd ask for your number but, y'know, secret identity stuff.
— I'll call you on landline phone.
—
Mikey snorted. Spidey turned to look at the sunrise, and Mikey glanced at his painting — almost done, just needed a few shadows.
— Alright. I'm out. See ya around, Talking turtle. Try not to get caught.
With a thwip, Spider-Man shot a web and swung off into the skyline.
Mikey's jaw dropped. That was so cool. He wanted to do that.
Then he glanced at his T-Phon.
5:59 AM.
Mikey nearly dropped it.
Training in an hour and he was halfway across the city.
— NONONONONO
He took one last look at his masterpiece, hopped on his board, and booked it toward the lair.
Hope Mikey makes it back to the lair before training starts.