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NAME: Bing
AGE: 35 years young
JOURNAL: agoodmusekickin

NAME: Hamato Michaelangelo
JOURNAL: michaeljangelo
FANDOM: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Volume 1 (Mirage)
AGE: 17
APPEARANCE: He is a 4' 113/4" tall anthropomorphic mutant turtle.
CANON POINT: Post "City at War."

WIKI: Link 1 & Link 2


Mike is the youngest of four brothers, which means that his self perception doesn't revolve around the attributes he has, but rather the ones he doesn't. He's not book smart like his older brother Donatello. He's not disciplined like his other older brother Leonardo. And he's not as headstrong as his other older brother Raphael. He's...just Mike. The slacker. The prankster. The baby. The one who gets coddled.

In actuality what Mike is, is the most human of the turtles, and that's not just because of his bright baby-blue eyes. He's a kind and gentle soul who has a soft spot for small children and animals. On more than one occasion he's attempted to bring strays home to keep as pets. To date all but one such request has all been denied.

Mike is an avid storyteller who gets most of his inspiration from comic books, science fiction novels, and popular culture. Someday he's going to flesh out one of his many unfinished short stories into a novel.

His creativity isn't limited to words, Mike's also expresses himself in the kitchen. Most, if not all, of the cooking for the family is done by Mike, who considers himself to be quite the foodie. Every day is Iron Chef day when you're raised in a house with a cash budget of zero.

Mike is often relegated to the role of comic relief in his family. He is more than willing to take the fall, or be the butt of a joke, it it brings a smile to the faces of those he loves. He sees it as his personal mission to keep his family happy. It's because of this that he tends to be overly introspective with his own wants and desires, opting instead to put the happiness and needs of those around him before himself.

Mike is a formidable opponent to fight against, not because of his discipline or form, but because of his seemingly endless energy. He's a natural athlete who tends to skate by on his gifts, rather than expend a whole lot of effort with practice.

I'll be bringing Mike in from after the City at War plotline, where he's living away from his family for the very first time, a move that is surprisingly selfish for Mike. Normally he'd defer to the whims of the family at large, but with Don and Splinter staying in Western Mass, and Leo and Raph being...well Leo and Raph, the fact that Mike has decided to stay with April and Casey to aid in the care of their daughter Shadow is kind of unlike him...but in a good making steps towards being who I am, and not a collection of what I'm nots.


Michaelangelo is a highly trained ninja, which means he excels at hand to hand combat; close combat; ranged attacks with projectiles; stealth; free-running; slight of hand; impersonations; weapons training including but not limited to: katana, bo-staff, sai, nunchuku, manrikigusari, knives etc.

If you need it to flip out of a shadow to kill someone, chances are good he's had a nominal amount of training in it.

He is also a mutant turtle which comes with its own sets of benefits: natural body armor which affords a resistance to bullets; the ability to retract his head mostly into his shell; polythermic metabolism, ability to jump 15 feet straight up; very adept at swimming and due to metabolic rate can go longer with oxygen; and enhanced strength. Mike can easily lift and carry 160 pounds, and deadlift close to 300.

(This third person example is set further back in Mike's timeline than he'll be coming in from, but I really liked how it came out so I'm using it here. If you'd prefer something else, just ask!)

"It'll be there," he said to himself as he ran at a breakneck pace across the rooftops of the West Side. His silent footfalls landing in time to the rhythm of his heart. Every step closer to 11th and Bleeker served to raise his spirits just that much more.

He'd been stupid to go to The Lair. Of course that wouldn't be there. He shouldn't have been surprised that he was unable to find even the slightest trace of his family in those forgotten subterranean rooms buried deep beneath 49th Street. Not after the Mouser Attack. And certainly not after whatever those things were that kidnapped Master Splinter. In the back of Mike's mind there's a brief flash of the memory of his Master, his Father, floating motionless in a tank that causes a chill to run down his spine.

Mike shakes his head to free himself from the mental image. "It's got to be there." He continues to run.

No it was a stupid waste of time, going to their now long since abandoned home. Mike imagines Donatello rolling his eyes when he hears the story. Leonardo will get that look he always gets right before he unleashes yet another of his, "You should have known better," lectures. Raphael? He'll just laugh. Maybe level a punch at Mike's shoulder right before he sarcastically calls the youngest brother a "Rocket Scientist."

"It's totally going to be there," he says with his wide beaming smile returning.

Splinter will be there too, of course. Expression impassive save for the tell of his nervously twitching tail. Waiting for the baby of the family to return. Mike already knows what he'll do when he sees his father. He'll bow low and respectful, just like he was taught. Then after an approving nod, Splinter's smile will appear and Mike will rush in for a hug. Splinter hugs are the best hugs. They are warm, smell of incense and tea, and remind him of when the old rat would comfort him until night terrors that used to plague him as a kid would subside.

He looks up and can just see the beginning of the treetops of the playground on Bleeker Street and laughs. There's a renewed spring to his step and he runs faster than he ever has before. Just one more rooftop and he'll be home. Just one more building and he'll see his family. He cranes his neck to see the sign. The comforting sign that reads: The Magnolia Bakery.


He stops quick, his momentum nearly throwing him off the edge of the roof.
No. No, that sign is supposed to read "Second Time Around." There's no bakery there. There's an antique store. The one April got after her father had a stroke.

"No. NO this isn't right. That's not supposed to be there!
he can't stop himself from shouting just before his legs buckle and he falls to his knees on the tarpaper roof.

He is alone.
For the first time ever in his life, he is alone.
The weight of this realization is nearly too much to bear, and now the most human of the brothers green howls like the injured animal he is.

ANYTHING ELSE?: This app comes with a no un-ironic Cowabunga guarantee.
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August 2014


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