028. "Booyakasha" was written because Kyou the Awesome ( kyouhuynh.deviantart.com/ ) caught a kiriban of mine back in JUNE. (I...kinda fail. ) Hope you like it!
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“Mikey…I don’t care. I honestly don’t care. You have enough people, you don’t need me, you’ve succeeded in humiliating Raph and Leo…And it’ll look bad in front of investors, you know how traditional some of my backers are…”
“Bro, am I hearing you right? The mighty genius, Donatello “Science” Hamato, welching on a bet? Oh, don’t look at me like that, you know I’m a turtle of my word. Sensei won, fair and more than square. You’re going to be in my show!”
Don sat back, defeated. Not one of the dozens of excuses he had thought of worked on his overly extroverted brother. He resigned himself to catching an early train out of New York City and lying low somewhere (not the farmhouse, obviously) for a couple days.
Mikey saw the dejection and subsequent sneaky look on Don’s face. He grinned. “Tell you what, I’ll whip you up a disguise. Your corporate cohorts won’t know you from any other subhuman monstrosity…” said Mikey, imitating the creepy voice from the late-night B-horror movies he loved so much, “…from beyond the green lagoon!”
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It was a fabulous, hot July night at Mikey's "6th Annual Studs-travaganza and Fashion Show to End Racism." People and mutants were side by side, mingling, laughing, drinking, and talking. Mikey, resplendent in his new orange tux, grinned in triumph. The DJ was on fire, playing all the finest hits out of the New York Club scene. The Women's 1920s Swimsuit Fashion portion of the show had just finished up, leaving the room ready for the main event and finale of the night, the Studs Walk. He grinned as he spotted world-renown artist, billionaire, and philanthropist Kyousuke Huynh knocking politely on the backstage door and was admitted by one of the staff without a fuss. Perfect!
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Backstage, it was entirely too crowded and noisy for Don’s taste. The place was buzzing as New York’s most eligible human and mutant bachelors changed clothes, submitted to make-up and oiling, and chatted over bottles of water to dispel stage-fright. Donatello slipped awkwardly into clothes that one of Mikey’s assistants handed him: a purple mask (Don snorted at Mikey’s idea of a disguise), tight, black Chippendale's bottoms, black sparkly cuffs, and a snazzy red bow tie. The genius wished for about the thousandth time that he had never even thought about accepting Raph's bet.
Earlier that week Raph had come up with a silly contest: a ninja style "that Robin Hood scene but with shuriken" contest. Raph challenged his brothers that he could out-throw them. Losers had to be in Mikey's travesty of a public outreach event. What Raph had failed to mention was that he had been secretly honing his throwing skills and smithing new, better shuriken.
It hadn't mattered, in the end. Splinter had entered the contest, split Raph's shuriken in two with an ordinary throwing star and won the whole shebang. Don smirked as he caught the sight of his larger brother in the corner fighting off the assistants Mikey had hired to oil the studs.
“I’m telling you I DON’T need to be OILED,” the hothead half-shouted. He was shushed by a female staff member in a black kimono and headset, who gave him a strict, scathing look and made as if to smack him with her clipboard. Raph was not impressed.
“But but but Mr. Hamato, your brother, Mr. Hamato, insisted…” simpered another black kimono’d underling on the staff. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because at the mention of the word “insisted” Raph snapped his head back and shot a death-glare at the skinny little man as if the underling had taken the last beer without asking.
“You tell my brother, Battle Nexus Champion or NOT, that HE can get his GREEN ASS IN HEAH …”
“Oh Raph, stop being so silly! It’s almost time to get on stage!” interrupted April who had left the party temporarily to see how the guys were coming along. Even though she was dressed to the nines in a low-cut, mermaid-tailed black evening gown she swooped down and grabbed the oil and towel from the simpering underling. Humming and smiling, she deftly began to buff Raph’s shoulders, back, and legs. The effect on Raph was profound. Grimacing in what he imagined was a manly way, he quieted down, flexed, and let April touch every square inch of his emerald green body. Donatello didn’t miss her gentle ministrations and accompanying grin. Disgusted, he rolled his eyes and stopped himself from sticking his tongue out when Raph made eye contact with him and smirked.
If there was ever a reason not to be wildly successful, public outreach events are it, thought Don moodily. He looked around the room and spotted Leo, who was already prepared to wow the crowd with his tumbling routine. Leo was chatting with Kyou, who was now in his own Chippendale-esque outfit and apparently felt far more confident than Donnie ever would in skintight black leather pants. Don walked through the crowded and stifling room to join them.
“So, even though this genius here,” said Kyou with a winning smile at Don as the olive turtle approached them, “made a billion off inventions so that you could start building the Hamato Corporation Towers, you still want to live in the sewers? C’mon, how gross is that?”
“It’s not that simple, Kyou-san," replied Leo. "Our clan still has enemies, here and in Japan. One cannot…"
“Mr Hamato?” Don felt a tap on his shoulder and reluctantly turned in place to face the staff member requesting his attention. The room seemed to wobble a bit. Don put his dizziness down to a case of nerves.
“Yes?” asked Don wearily.
“Your brother, Mr. Hamato, wants you to wear this.” The underling raised a sort of over-shirt, stiffened and molded so that it looked like the carapace and shell of a giant turtle. It was a clear reproduction of Don’s old shell that he had outgrown. Bestower of supreme inner peace, thought Don, a simple paper bag for my head would have sufficed.
Don took the monstrosity gingerly from the man. “Um. Ah. Thank you. Hey, could I get a water? I’m getting overheated,” stated Don. The man nodded and headed towards the back.
“Don, are you feeling ok?” asked Leo.
"You do look a little...yellower than normal," added Kyou.
Don shook his head. “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. I’m feeling dizzy and hot. I just want to get this over with.”
“You’ll be fine, just take it easy,” said Leo. Kyou nodded in agreement.
Suddenly Mikey’s voice could be heard through the walls and the assistants began calling for the studs to get in line. The DJ began playing an extended remix of “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate as Raph prowled out onstage. The song had a driving beat that seemed to put a bounce in Raph’s step. Ten of the handsomest of New York’s most eligible human and mutant bachelors followed the turtle at 20 second intervals.
Leo and Kyou, Don noted, seemed calm despite the heat and the noise, the former looking patient and grim, the latter grinning and making his pecs dance for one of the assistants, who blushed furiously in response. Don sighed and slipped on the shell-shaped shirt.
It was like wearing an overcoat on a hot day. The edges were a little rough, so he picked at the opening to clear his arms of the itchy feeling. Don immediately wanted to take the shellacked atrocity off. Before he could say anything about it to Leo, the eldest turtle walked up the stairs and did one of his patented flips followed by leg splits, drawing cheers from the crowd. Don felt the aforementioned butterflies morph into a butterfly mosh pit as more mutants and humans filed onto the walk. His turn was coming up soon.
“Well, here we go!” shouted Kyou as he strutted onto the stage and began flexing for the ladies. An appreciative roar rose from the crowd. Don counted to 20 and shakily clambered up after him into the tsunami of lights, heat, and noise. People and mutants were cheering, which helped with the stage fright Don was feeling but did nothing for the stability of the room, which seemed to be teetering back and forth. His skin was suddenly dry as he attempted to saunter down the walkway; his mouth seemed to be full of cotton. “Flex, turtle, FLEX!” chanted Mikey into the microphone. The crowd picked up the chant. Don held his arms out in a classic 'muscle man' pose and forced himself to smile. It felt like he was making a face. It's my own little personal hell, he thought. His head felt like it was in a fishbowl, everything was waving and seemed to be moving slower than usual. He briefly contemplated how funny the echoes of his own thoughts sounded. Comparatively, if this is my hell...it's really not all that bad.
That’s when he noticed someone, a woman in a purple kimono, shadowing his movements down the runway. She was screaming and jumping up and down, motioning him to take off the fake carapace. Great, Don thought. I’m the smartest turtle. I’m also… a stripper.
The strange woman sprang forward and, with a superhuman and way creepy feat of strength, vaulted herself onto the walkway and landed with a gleam in her eye. Don realized what was going to happen next but somehow couldn’t move fast enough to get out of the way. His arms wouldn’t budge and his aching cheeks were frozen into a smile. Feeling faint, Don broke into a cold sweat as the rabid fangirl sprinted towards him, leaving the security guys that Mikey had hired for the night in the dust. Before anyone else realized what was happening, she wrapped her legs around Don’s and started kissing his beak.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He stumbled backwards, unable to support the sudden change in weight. Don's head swam and as his sight was dimming the last thing he saw was Kyou, who appeared somewhat miffed that none of his screaming fangirls had managed to outwit the security detail.
The woman in purple kept kissing him as they crashed to the ground, which was admittedly pleasant and painful in turns. All Don really wanted was some fresh air. Far off in the distance, he heard Mikey shout:
The entire crowd erupted into laughter. Perfect, thought Don as he lay on the floor. I’m not a stripper, I’m a clown.
“Seriously, folks,” said Mikey jovially, “we know the mutants are cute but please! No touching the merchandise! Security!”