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[personal profile] michaeljangelo

NAME: Bing
AGE: Old enough to know better, young enough not to care? (Mid 30s. How the hell did that happen?)
JOURNAL: agoodshinkickin
IM: agoodshinkickin (gmail and AIM)
E-MAIL: agoodshinkickin at gmail dot com
RETURNING: Nope, I am new like freshly fallen snow.


CHARACTER NAME: Michaelangelo (Mike/Mikey)
FANDOM: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
CHRONOLOGY: Mirage Volume 1. Sometime after issue #6
CLASS: Reluctant Hero Who Pines for Normalcy...and a possible book deal someday.
SUPERHERO NAME: Michaelangelo
ALTER EGO: Michael J. Angelo, or Michael J. Hamato


There are fewer underbellies seedier than that of New York City in the mid 1980s. Where excess was the order of the day, and you could find anything your heart desired if you had enough money. Black market barons fought over fiefdoms composed of city blocks and boroughs. Gangs with colorful names like The Purple Dragons roamed the streets, but no underworld organization had as much power as the secretive group known only as The Foot.

Living in tandem with this dark, gritty, Frank Miller'esque world is one composed of pure science fiction. Centuries ago an alien race found themselves trapped on Earth. Unable to return home without first reconstructing their teleportation technology, the Utroms are forced to hide among the predominant race on the planet: Humanity. In order to do this effectively the Utroms, who resemble tentacled, disembodied brains with faces, construct robotic exoskeletons and set up a front company to sponsor their repairs.

Our story begins fifteen years ago, when these two worlds accidentally collide.

Oroku Saki, the headstrong leader of the New York branch of the foot, goes off in search of an exiled member of his clan, a man named Hamato Yoshi. Years ago in Japan Yoshi killed Saki's older brother. Given the option of exile or ritual suicide, Yoshi fled to New York which his wife and pet rat. Saki eventually caught up with Yoshi, and in the fatal scuffle that followed, the pet rat was freed from his cage.

With no humans to care for him, Splinter scavenged the streets of New York, until one day a canister of radio active slime from an Utrom supply truck bounced free and hit a small fishbowl containing four hatchling turtles. Splinter gathered up the turtles from where they eventually landed in the sewers and cleaned them of the glowing ooze.

The rapid mutation of all four animals quickly followed. With the martial arts knowledge gleaned from his many years in his master's dojo, Splinter trained the turtles to be ninja masters in the hope that they would restore honor to the now departed Yoshi.

At fifteen years of age the the turtles do just that. On a rooftop they dispatch Oroku Saki in the name of Hamto Yoshi.
A few years later they meet their first human friend, April O'neil. A computer programmer who would up on the wrong side of her boss, and found herself defended from killer robots by four teenaged mutant ninja turtles.

When Splinter disappears and the boys fear him dead, they are taken in by April.
With their leader gone, the Foot is disorganized, and attacks the boys one night during one of their training runs. It's during this fight that the turtles recognize the TCRI building as having the same name as was written on the canister of ooze that created them.

Hijinx, as they say, ensue when the boys decide to investigate the TCRI building for themselves. They uncover the aliens, discover Splinter who is being kept in a stasis tank, and run a foul the Utrom's transporter which they inadvertently activated.


Mike is the youngest of four brothers, which means that his self perception doesn't revolve around the attibutes 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 animals home to keep as pets. To date all such requests have 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. Someday.

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 comic relief. 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 of those around him before himself.


Mutant Turtle: There are certain benefits to being a nearly five foot tall mutant turtle:
- natural body armor/bullet resistance
- the ability to retract his head mostly into his shell
- polythermic metabolism. Mostly cold blooded, but has the ability to generate heat through activity.
- ability to jump 15 feet straight up
- can hold his breath for a longer duration under water, depending on activity.
- adept at swimming
- can easily lift and carry 160 pounds, and deadlift close to 300 pounds

Martial Arts; life-long practitioner:
- expert in hand to hand ninjitsu
- skilled at gymnastics and climbing,
- Proficient with many different martial arts weapons, but prefers close combat weapons that highlight his speed and dexterity.
- Can pick both locks and pockets, excels at slight of hand

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 energy with practice.




[The feed springs to life on what appears to be an empty, yet lived in, kitchen with a breakfast bar font and center. The frame jostles slightly as the yet unseen "director" adjusts the shot just so. A green face dips in upside down from the topmost margin of the screen. His bright blue eyes dart from the screen to the webcamera and then back again.]


[The skin around his eyes crinkles, and there's a rather sizable smile in his tone. Then, as abruptly as he appears, he's gone. Though, close observers will notice a quick green blur on the left disappear behind the breakfast bar. There's a quiet click before the dulcet tones of Weird Al Yankovic's immortal composition, "Eat It" plays in the background. The song's a bit tinny, and audiophiles will recognize that it comes from a tape deck, as opposed to a compact disk or .mp3.]

[On top of the breakfast bar appears a cardboard sign proclaiming this production to be an episode of
"Flat Broke Gourmet: NYC on $0 a Day"]

And here's your host! Michaelangelo!

[The music is clicked off and up our host rises from behind the breakfast bar. He's a barely five foot tall turtle, and he's smiling at you.]

Hi! And welcome to the Flat Broke Gourmet. I'm your host, Michaelangelo. And today we're going to create one of my favorite no-money-down recipes: Tuna Casserole Surprise. Mmmm. Delicious.

The trick is to find the right market-slash-bodega to shop at. [Insert finger quotes here.] And when I say shop, what I really mean is dumpster dive. As any highly trained dumpster diver knows, you can't just apply your craft just anywhere willy nilly.For the highest quality products you want to look for somewhere high end enough that they actually believe Sell By Dates are non negotiable, but not so fancy that they won't carry the ingredients you'll need for whatever recipe you've decided to call dinner. And what are those ingredients? Well, for Tuna Surprise...

[He leans to one side and pulls cutting board on which the ingredients of the recipe have been carefully arranged across the breakfast bar. A green three-fingered hand points out each ingredient as they are named.

Ramen syle pre-cooked noodles. Cream of mushroom soup. Canned tunafish. And last, but certainly not least, Lays brand potato chips. Very important, those chips. They'll be providing the ever important crumb topping, but wait! I'm getting ahead of myself. First we need to preheat the oven.

[Mike turns away from the camera, and focus his attention on the oven behind him.]

You'll want to preheat your oven to 350 degrees. When you do this really depends on what type of oven you have, the model, the time of year, and how long it takes for your stolen-from-the-surface-dwellers utilities to kick in.

[That last one comes with a mug specifically tailored for the camera.]

With that done, we can turn our attention to the whole layering process. But first, we need a pan to contain the layers. I highly recommend these disposable tin foil roasting pans. They're sturdy, easy to find because most people think they're one-use only and toss'em instead of cleaning them, and most importantly...you can sanitize them. They'll be no visits from Uncle Sal this day. Not on my watch.

[Here he reaches to the other side of the breakfast bar to retrieve just such a pan.]

Through the magic of television, I just so happen to have one that's already been reclaimed, cleaned, and dried. [Mike could give Vanna White a run for her money.]

First things first, we need to lay down our basement layer. The ramen layer.
[He reaches and grabs the first brick of the dried noodles.]

Feel free to try and pull them apart if you like, I just like to lay them down like bricks.
[There's another brick of noodles, then another, and another, until the entire bottom of the pan is covered.] Now we can add the tuna.

[There's a brief pause where he reaches behind the counter to retrieve what appears to be a black steel Japanese-style throwing knife. If you've ever wanted to see a giant turtle open a can of tuna using a throwing knife, now's your chance. Adjust your bucket lists accordingly.]

What you want to do is make sure that the tuna is evenly distributed on top of the noodles. Heads will roll if some portions have more tuna than others.

[His face becomes a mask of pure unadulterated sincerity here. His eyes narrow.]
I'm not kidding. People could get hurt.

[In an instant his smile returns.]
Feel free to dump what ever liquid came in the can with the tuna. A little extra moisture never hurt this recipe. It is strong like bull.
[Don't ask what accent he just employed. It probably doesn't exist anywhere other than his brain.He finishes the tuna application, and then brings over a couple of cans of the soup, which he also opens using the same knife technique.]

Now we'll pour the soup on the noodles like so. You may need more than one can to accomplish this, but trust me, it'll be worth it when the noodles absorb all the mushroom and creamy goodness. But what really locks in the flavor is the crisp, crunchy, potato chip crust. And to help me make that I'm going to call upon my lovely assistant Raphael. Raph! Go long!

[He picks up a couple of bags of chips and lobs them to someone off camera, presumably Raph. And judging by the speed at which the bag is returned to Mike...or shall we say Mike's head, it's clear that Raph wants nothing to do with the proceedings. Mike manages to duck his head into his shell ever so slightly so as to avoid the oncoming projectile. It's a shame the webcamera set up doesn't have the same ability. The second bag hits the camera, knocking it onto the floor.]

Uh...we'll be right back, after this commercial break.

[The feed dies, and does not return.]


"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 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 plagued 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.
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August 2014


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