nextgenerationmarvel | Teenage Mutant Ninja Fail 2: Hellectric Boogaloo.

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Fail 2: Hellectric Boogaloo.

Here we go. Round two! Brooke Wyngarde stood outside Pete Eastman's room, dressed in something decidedly more casual than last time. Well, as casual as Brooke could get, anyway. There was also an entire tray of nachos, tacos, and burritos in her hands, and a cooler bag filled with soda.

Best way to a teenage boy's personality...

Carefully balancing the tray, Brooke knocked on the door.

This time? This time she was going to wear the turtles down and get through to Pete Eastman, no matter what.

She grinned brightly as the door opened.

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There was a rhythmic thump clink that approached the door. The door opened without hesitation, revealing a purple-robed turtle. He held a staff in his hand as he looked over the woman standing at his door.

"One hundred rivers return to the sea."

"Except for the Nile," Brooke replied. "That one doesn't return to the sea so much as it makes the sea." Since the direction of the river's flow was different from the flow of all other rivers. Her eyes ticked up to the turtle's head, an eyebrow slightly raised. "Nice hat."

He nodded thoughtfully. Also, he nodded again at the compliment. Or he at least took it as a compliment. His eyes wandered from discerning who was at the door to the tray of food.

"Beware lest your eyes are bigger than your belly." He backed out of the way of the open portal and gestured with his free hand for Brooke to come in.

It wasn't an insult. The turtles were something else entirely and Brooke didn't hold them to the same fashion standards that she did someone like Rachel Grey or Alisa LeBeau.

Brooke stepped inside, curtsying a little awkwardly, and indicated the tray in her hands. "I, uh, made sure to bring regular people food this time," she said. "I thought it'd be nice to get to know the, ah, rest of you."

The room was meant for two, but half of it was clearly unoccupied. The other half was a messy combination of five personalities trying to assert dominance over the roomscape.

There was a small table with a single chair beside it in the less chaotic part of the room. Aramis gestured for Brooke to set the tray on it.

"Your kindness is engraved on my bones." He gave her a small bow and moved to grab a stool by Pete's desk.

Brooke did as Aramis suggested and then lowered herself into the stool, smoothing down her Fendi skirt and crossing her legs demurely. "As long as it's not tattooed on your flesh," Brooke joked. "I'm not sure the other four would appreciate it." Pause. "Or...having it engraved on their bones as well." She paused, then, and her raspberry-glossed lips twitched. "You're the one named after men's cologne, right?"

The turtle pulled the other seat beside the table. He settled his staff against the wall with a soft clink before he sat in the other chair.

He raised a scaly brow at the quips, but it wasn't clearly visible under his hat. He felt calm with a tiny bit of curiosity. Aramis was completely unruffled by having an older woman show up at his door with food. Though he had left the door open to the hall so no untoward thoughts could be made about the meeting.

"I hope you will act as collar and sleeve." He plucked some lint off his robe and flicked it away from the table. Then he settled more comfortably on his seat. "I believe it's a Musketeer. Like a candy bar."

As though anyone in their right minds would think that Brooke Aurelia Wyngarde was trying to have it off with a turtle. Please.

"That sounds...inappropriately kinky." Though none of the emotions coming off of him were inappropriately kinky. She shook her had. Proverb. One whose meaning she couldn't read.

"Right. Aramis. Of course." She lifted the bag of drinks from the floor and unzipped it. Inside, amongst clear cubes of ice, were cans of cola, lemon-lime soda, root beer, sparkling juice, and sparkling water. Because who knew which personality she was going to get, and what hey liked to drink. "In case you're, ah, thirsty."

He removed his hat and leaned it on its brim against his staff. He rubbed a three-fingered hand over his naturally bald pate. It was only polite to remove his hat while eating.

"How can the swallow understand the aspirations of the swan?" He tilted his head slightly before peering into the cooler bag. He smiled slightly at the selection. "I would be most humbled by a sparkling water, Miss Wyngarde."

He knew who she was. He had no idea why she was there.

"Of course," she said, handing a bottle over to him. "Look, this must seem weird," she said after a moment, feeling his confusion. "We've never spoken, you and I, though I have spoken to one of your, ah, brothers." She opened her own bottle of sparkling water and took a long drink. "I'm trying to get to know you better. All of you. Especially Pete. Who seems to be the most difficult to get to."

"It is easy to take a light carriage on a familiar road." He opened the water and took a swig. As the water sloshed back into the upright bottle, he waved a finger over it to make the water spin like a whirlpool.

"His defenses are tall, but breachable with time and patience."

"Get to know all of you, and I get friendly with the man himself," Brooke smiled. "Look. I'm going to be honest with you. The proverbs? You're clearly wise, and I'm not the sort of person to beat around the bush for too long. That much sunlight is bad for your skin, and I don't plan on aging for a good, long while." She shook her head, then, and said, "sorry. Rachel's worried about Pete. Me, I'm trying to help because...well, because she wants me to. And because it's the right thing to do. Especially since we're all a...a team."

Aramis followed along until he got a skincare tip. He blinked at Brooke and scratched his head. He glanced at his wide-brimmed hat.

This time she did see him raise his scaly eyebrow.

"I hope that you will remove the weeds that obstruct my mind." He looked at the green and tan leathery skin on his hand. While he had confusion in his calmness, there was another set of emotions that were not eminated from the placid turtle: worry and fear.

Brooke's eyes ticked up from her lap to meet Aramis' eyes. She could feel that. The other presence. Just like last time, it was there again. Man, Brooke wanted to reach in, use her powers, and pull him out, but she wouldn't do that.

She couldn't.

She'd promised Rachel.

"I want to help," she agreed. "I think it'd be beneficial for all five of you, in the long run. A mentally healthy mutant is a happy mutant, or something."

Aramis felt nothing from Pete. He was his own separate entity as far as he was concerned.

"A distant heart creates a wilderness around it," he noted. He might not have been able to sense Pete, but Aramis more than the others could make guesses at what the young man was doing.

He stopped swirling the water and set the bottle on a small non-trayed spot of the table. He grabbed one of the burritos. "Many hands will lighten the work, but familiar faces bring about ease. What can I help you with along this path?"

"Get to know me," Brooke replied. "Let's become friends." She smiled wryly, then. "I know. The biggest bitch Xavier's has known in the past five years, asking for friendship. But this is important." Pause. "And last time, I genuinely enjoyed getting to know D'Artagnan."

"Often give, often receive," he agreed. He took a bite of burrito because all this being wise was making him hungry.

Then a thought hit him. He swallowed his mouthful and leaned a little closer. He gestured for her to lean a little closer. Even if she didn't, he was still going to ask:

"Is this the right shade of purple for me?"

She leaned in. Of course she did. Turtles...had terrified her. Very much so.

But after D'Artagnan...well.

She was changing, a little bit. Being pulled in two different directions. One day, Brooke was fully aware how confusing that was going to get. How difficult.

But today was not that day.

She smiled. "If there was any more blue in that shade of purple and it'd wash your skin tone the wrong way, Aramis."

"Hmm." He nodded as straightened up. He plucked at the sleeve that did not have an arm in it.

"Take heed of good clothing, and then respect the man." He took another bite of the burrito and chewed contemplatively. If that were possible with a turtle mouth.

"Have some food," he suggested after he swallowed. "Watching a turtle eat is only fun for a scant time."

Brooke blinked. These foods were not her kind of thing. Her sort of Mexican cuisine was something generally less apt to spill onto her designer skirt.

Then again, in the name of friendship and all that.

Gingerly, she unwrapped a soft taco filled with roasted calabaza, grilled portobello mushrooms, charred brussels sprouts, and ancho-marinated chicken breast strips and took a bite. It was delicious, of course. Brooke only catered from the best.

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment before directing her attention back to Aramis. "So you're the wise one." Which wasn't to say that the others were stupid, but they each had their strengths. "What do you make of your situation?"

The turtle carefully set what was left of his burrito down. He tried to make sure it did not touch any of the other food and infect it with turtle germs. He held up a finger before reaching inside the sleeve of his robe.

He pulled out what looked like a freshly laundered and folded piece of cloth. Aramis unfolded it and carefully and trying not to invade Brooke's space too much set the cloth over her designer skirt. He hoped that would protect her clothing enough.

Once he was sure she could eat without sartorial damage, the turtle settled back and picked up his burrito.

"One tree does not make a forest." He nibbled on his burrito. "I am tied to the whims of his feelings. As are the others, I assume. But five distant pieces in a whirlpool do not make a whole."

A warm, genuine smile spread across Brooke's face. "I...thank you, Aramis. That was wonderfully chivalrous of you." She gingerly set aside her taco and nodded. "So you all feel disjointed?"

"The cautious seldom err." He finished up his burrito. He rubbed his hands together as he looked over the other food. "Your posture and cautious motions mean your clothing is important to you. It is better for digestion to be at ease."

He reached for some nachos. "I personally do not. But there is a... unwholeness lurking in the background. I do not know if the others feel it. The ninja and samurai most likely do not. One can never tell with the monk."

"Thank you," she said again. The skirt, after all, was almost five thousand dollars. Certainly not the most expensive thing on her - that would be the pentagonal diamond ring she was wearing - but expensive nonetheless. Brooke finished off the rest of her taco in small, dainty bites before taking a sip of the sparkling water. "I see," Brooke then said. "What sort of unwholesomeness?" There was a joke there, with monks not monkeying around, but Brooke wisely avoided that joke.

The priest would have choked on his nachos had he known the price of the skirt. However, he didn't and just knew that her clothing seemed to be important to her.

"He who knows does not speak. He who speaks does not know." He ate a few nachos. "Not unwholesome. Unwhole. Like pieces scattered after a storm."

"So the one who knows isn't saying anything. And that's one of the three of you I have yet to meet." Brooke nodded. She was understanding this turtle pretty well. That was good, right? Progress!

"Do you...do any of you feel the need to be brought together? As one whole piece? Each of you in control without vying for control?"

"You can lead a cow to water, but you cannot make it drink." He finished up the portion of nachos he had picked out for himself. He grabbed his sparkling water and took a long drink.

He was obviously not a cow.

"I can bring the topic up, but I can't force one of the others to give me the answers I'm looking for," Brooke nodded. "I get it."

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Fail 2: Hellectric Boogaloo.

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