Author’s Note:

When the events transpired, I was looking for something to ease the pain. Being a movie freak fanboy, I tried to immerse myself quickly into the fandom that movies can present. But, I found my relief, in The Amazing Spider-man, Issue 36.

I needed heroes, and for once, I was struck with something that was real. And it was dealt with in a manner that touched me so much, I wanted my other heroes, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle’s feelings, and I used their old issues of past comic books to keep my company. But I haven’t read any of the new issues (cept for 1 of Vol. 4), and I haven’t really seen any new fan fiction about how maybe the Turtles dealt with the events of September 11^th, 2001. Being that this affected every fan, every human being, I felt best that it would reach out to every fan, best I could.

All focused on the eyes of The only turtle who really has the ability to see each Fandom of the TMNT, The Future Donatello from 2095 ( from the Archie TMNT Adventures fandom ) Each universe, seen through his eyes, including his own. (the Archie and Cartoon universe are one and the same) and feature glimpses into each turtle’s adventures on a different plane of existence, even with a special surprise one at the end. I hope you enjoy, and maybe take some relief that, our four heroes, went through this too. That maybe, just maybe… I reached someone, the way Spider-man did with me in issue 36. I’d hate this to be just some fan fiction that was written for my own guilt of trying to grief through the events of that day, which I am still trying to get through.

Tis But A Glimpse…

By Nicholas Arganbright

My new coat. After so many adventures, suddenly, I care not of what fine material in my purple coat, which Raphael and Leonardo bought me, and as the large gray smoke filled the sky, I can do nothing but stand there. It’s like make-up for that of an actor. Smoldering too, it’s horrible thing to witness. In my time line, no such event ever transpired. In my timeline, only the effects of the wars of future tense proceeded to wipe out the peace of the United States.

Below, I hear their screaming. I can hear the people cry; cry to a God that will not hear their plea. And what of us? Our skin is green, but we too shall always feel the pain of the day the that ended all other days. Remembering, seeing it on TV, this… this is much, much worse. As I heard the final fall of the first World Trace Center Tower, the cries of the city and of the United States…

“This is impeding!” Donatello said, as he looked around. “This is beyond impediment. This, is travesty!” the turtle genius said, as he looked around the sewers. Donatello, mutant turtle, adjusted his red headband, as he continued to do his watch of the sewer.

After a brief discussion with Master Splinter, as the turtles searched their old sewer den for anything of use as they make their transition between April’s Apartment and their old way of life under the sewers, Donatello was the sewer watch. His leg was still hurting a bit, and he didn’t care too much for being chosen for watch guard duty.

Leonardo was best suited for such a duty.

The thoughts of Leonardo’s whining concerning his bad dreams which was about the return of Baxter Stockman in robot form, faded quickly away, as a loud scream came, and echoed through out the sewer den. Donatello’s bo staff, drew quickly.

“Raph? Case? What’s going on?”

The echo of screams of panic became to that of fear. The fear that resonated low, the echo, beginning to grow. So much, it was as if demons were inside Donatello’s mind, taunting him and teasing him of the pain they would inflict. Trying to regain stability, Donatello held his hands over where the ears on the turtle would be and looked around.

They weren’t coming from the sewers. They were coming, from somewhere else, from above.

They were coming from above.

As Donatello ran to the ladder, he quickly dashed up and popping the sewer lid open.

Around him, the screams and squeals of people around him, weren’t regarding him. It wasn’t as if Donatello was the focus of attention. Something else was frightening them, as the crowds began to take flight, like birds, but running as fast as they can. As they ran past him, he heard the sirens in the distant.

“What is going on here?” the turtle cried, trying to regain some semblance of control of the situation. Could it be? Was Leonardo’s dream about D.A.R.P.A. and the Triceraton invasion true? Was it a foreshadowing to the events now alarming enough, becoming true?

As the turtle ran towards the event taking place, he was fighting the crowds…

When the turtle turned down the street, he saw it hit. The smoke, coming straight for him.

“Mother of Christ…” is all the turtle could say, his voice choked out of him. The World Trade Tower shattered, the smoke so thick that it reverberated in the air, and lowering to the entire town. Papers came straight for him. As the wind came towards the ninja, he stood there, waiting to embrace the impact.

“Oh God, God, God, God, God!” the turtle felt the future debris through the amount of papers, and glass from the building, slicing into him, as the voice of the female, her hair tangled in bits, ran down the center of the road.

“Get the heck off the road, lady!” The turtle cried. But this woman did not listen. Her thoughts, drowned out by her oncoming doom. With a quick yank, the woman was pulled off the street by a dust covered three-fingered green hand, throwing her in an open door.

As Donatello smiled onto the young woman, only of twenty-three years of age, she never would forget the creature that stood before her, withstanding the blasts of smoke, and debris.

As the man held the woman and closed the door, the woman looked at the creature before her, resembling a large humanoid turtle. Crawling to the window of the door, the turtle looked down at her and smiled. A small, heart-warming, ‘everything will be okay’ smile.

And how such a creature… risked his life for hers.

The woman, her hand froze on the window, watched as the turtle disappeared behind the large cloud of constant oncoming smoke and debris, and a flash of blood hitting the window.

Tis but a glimpse.

The news of the TV flickered on and off, as the wise rat, Master Splinter, gazed on the events on the TV screen. The metal shinning off metal, from Cyborg Donatello glared in Raphael’s eye. The horror on screen, the events being reported back and forth from CBS’ Dan Rather, and Peter Jennings shot back and forth, as Michaelangelo anxiously flipped the button on the channel changer back and forth, back and forth.

Leonardo saw the tension in the air growing with the constant switching.

“Hey Mike…” the turtle quietly said, trying to find some humility in the situation, “Maybe we should stop flicking to and fro from the channels. Maybe just pick a station, okay bro?”

Michaelangelo, just starring at the TV finally dropped the remote, the channel residing on Channel Four, of ABC, with Peter Jennings.

“Which leads me, you know, I just shouldn’t ask this, but I want to know, and that is- where… is President George W. Bush? Where is he in this time… of crisis…”

“He’s in the air!” Donatello grumbled. “Leave him alone, bastard.”

“Donatello, please.” The rat said as it took it’s cane and tapped the metal turtle’s back.

“Why do they keep showing it over… and over again? Why Master splinter… why?”

The question from Mike was like a child, trying to find something to grasp on to. Leonardo felt all reality around Michaelangelo disappear. The once joking playfulness that beamed from his brother, even at the worst of times, was no more. He was an empty shell of what once remained. When Casey and April called and told them to check the TV station, that’s when Michaelangelo began to disappear.

“-while reports of Osama Bin Laden are still running rampant, the rumors-”

“This is fucking stupid.” The turtle snapped, grabbing his sais.

“What do you mean this is stupid, Raphael?” the wise rat said.

Leonardo looked up, feeling his brother, ready to snap.

“This! Someone’s gotta pay, Splinter! Someone’s gotta pay!” The turtle grabbed his hockey mask and looked at Michaelangelo and slowly frowned. “Someone… will pay.” As they saw the turtle exit the lair, Leonardo reached back, and felt his katana. Prepped for training of the morning, before ‘the call’ came in from April.

“Don’t worry, master.” Leonardo replied.

Who could blame Raph.

The figure slammed up against the wall, his turban, slowly falling to the ground, covered in dust, the sounds of the Big Appel in chaos around them. “Don’t… kill me!” the man begged, as Raphael thrust his arm out and punched the poor man in the face.

And with President Bush trying to find a place out of harm’s way, he would then address the nation for the time at hand.    But how long, could that take?

The man continued to beg… “I have a family… I am American…” is all he could say, as each blow from the turtle came.

He was feeling the same way all of us were.

As Raphael withdrew his sai from his belt, he lowered his sai and kicked the man in the chest, so that he rolled around, the blood flowing from his nose and mouth… his eyes, glaring into Raph’s eye. A look of fear. Raphael raised his said, waiting for the blow.

The hatred… building up inside us. Wanting something to be done.

Jerking away, Leonardo pulled Raphael aside, as his brother wrestled him against the brick wall. “What the hell are you doing, Leo? What are you doing?” Leonardo, still pinning him with his hand and the stump on his left hand, he looked into his brother’s eye.

“Stop it, Raph! Stop it!” Raphael kicked Leonardo away, but the turtle was strong and rolled with the kick, sending the turtle onto his shell. Sitting atop his carapace, the turtle looked at his brother.

“Get off of me, Leo! Get the hell off! Someone has to pay!”

“No, Raph. No they don’t.”

“Yes they do!! He has to pay!!”

“Who does?”

“He does!” Raphael nodded to the man of Arab descent, slowly rising to his feet, and looking at the two turtles below him. “That piece of shit deserves to die for what he did!”

“What do you mean, Raphael! Listen to yourself, brother! Listen to yourself.” Leonardo said, compassionately, “there are no sides anymore.” Leonardo held his brother down as he struggled more. “He… is not the enemy, Raphael.”

“No, no, NO! He is the enemy, Leo! He is the enemy!” As Raphael turned away, the thoughts of revenge for the innocents, the Americans killed at the World Trade Center by Terrorist Osama Bin Laden, he looked at the Man’s eyes.

Staring back at him, he only looked at him and Raph’s words vanished, trying to figure out… what was going on. And that is when Raphael saw his eyes.   In his eyes, Raphael saw faith… hope…   and forgiveness.

That is when Raphael saw an American. Like himself.

As Leonardo felt the muscles ease off of his own, Raphael slowly balled himself up, crying. As Leonardo stood up he looked at the man.

Sometimes we try to look for something- or someone… to blame.

“I’m really sorry about this.”

We all did. And some days… we still are.

“It is okay.” The man smiled as he turned away, and began to head for the chalky dust filled streets of New York City, leaving Leonardo and his brother Raphael, their in the alley.

Tis But…

A Glimpse…

“This can’t be happening!”

The Image of the human body flung from the window to the ground below appeared.

“Oh no!”

Sometimes, the images in your head, are nothing but a bad dream.

Raphael held the phone, like a small baby to his ears, as Donatello and Splinter were glued to the TV set.

Sometimes, the voices are real. The images… real.

As Raphael talked to Ninjara, almost in tears, his brother rushed in with April O’Neil. Leonardo and April hugged.

“I’m glad you’re here April. We were so worried you might have been called down to the scene.” He said as he ushered her to sit down.

It was all happening so quick then. It was such a blur.

“Who is Raph talking to?” she quizzed Don.

“Ninjara called him as soon as the first plane struck… he has been on the phone ever since.” Leonardo responded, as him and April embraced again, remembering the friendship they both share.

I never noticed Mike leave. I never notice that he was gone.

Michaelangelo cleared the dust off the manhole cover, as he looked around for anyone who was injured. As he saw everyone who was safe, the people ran past him, as firetrucks whizzed by.

He eventually told me what happened that fateful day as he climbed onto the topside, into the topsy turvy world of the Big Apple, a city… a nation… that was changed forever.

As Michaelangelo knealed down and ripped his orange elbow pad off, and aiding a wound to a teenager child, he saw two once bright red heels, enter his vision.

I never understood what he told me. About how he felt…

As the woman bent down, the teenager looked up.

“Where’s dad? Did he get Aunt Kathy?”

Michaelangelo looked up at the child’s apparent mother as he finished dressing the wound. The woman could do nothing but cry as she hugged her child, looking deeply into Michaelangelo’s eyes. Bitter. Angry.

Until now.

“How could you do this?”

“Whoa, lady! What do you mean? I would never-“

“How could you do this! Why did you let this happen to us… why did the four of you allow this… this to happen… to us.”

As Michaelangelo looked into the woman’s eyes, he fell to his knees, and held his head in his hands. The woman carrying her teen away, slowly screaming for his father and Aunt, Michaelangelo felt the world around him slip away.

The grasp he once had was no more. Lost forever, in one simple question. One simple plea.   Tis But A Glimpse.

As the man, slowly (but respectively) balding, watched the TV, he tried to find some impression of life around him, and did so, by finding the comfort of petting his cat. As he stood up, he passed the storyboards of drawings, which once had such meaning, now… it all seemed so distant.

Standing outside on the rooftop of the building in the epicenter of town, all he could do, is look out.

“Sometimes, all you can do, is to not try to understand it…”

The man turned around, looking at the figure. Surprised, so much that he adjusted his glasses.

“But to except it.”

As the five foot tall turtle, the long purple trench coat flapping, he approached the man of somewhat girth, and never once, looking directly into the man’s eyes. As if fear resided in him.

“Never did I ever expect to see this before I passed on.” The man said sadly.

The turtle looked on, as the sun began to set.

“I have so many questions for you. I don’t understand. I mean how can you be- aren’t you from the future?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand. I mean how can you be here? Right there in front of me? If you are from the future, why couldn’t you see this?”

“ I tried to see this coming. I mean in my future, the Twin Towers were standing proud and tall. Unharmed by everything excluding the waters of the earth slowly closing in on their mammoth height. And then one day, they evaporated. As if the power of Time and space…”

“A Paradox..?”

“You wrote for me well, Peter.” The turtle laughed, as he finally looked into the man’s eyes. “I began to go through each universe… each plane that I existed. That me and my brothers dominated, or are included in. And one day, I came to an alternate universe, where, the impact is felt much worse than in any universe. Not only effecting me, but… on a wider scale than ever thought imaginable.” Donatello turned his head back towards the city. “And here, I found out… that we, me… and my brothers are all figments of two men’s late night cravings of comic books and late night TV.”

“I’m sorry… does that bother you, Donatello?”

“No, Mr. Laird, it does not.” Donatello became stern as him and Peter Laird looked back out over the city. Trying to find a bit better piece of common ground. “But… why are you here… with me, Donatello? I mean what about Kev? Did you talk to him? Will you talk to him?”

“You have been sitting in your office, at home, trying to figure this all out. And the fact is, you just can’t.” Donatello sighed as he turned away.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to return home.”

“But… I have so many things to ask you, Donatello. Why can’t you stay?”

“It has been a few weeks since anyone has heard from you, Pete.”

“What do you mean? I talked to Jim, Kevin, and my family-“

“Not just them. Someone else. A lot of people actually.”

It hit the famed artist. “The fans.”

Donatello smirked, and nodded lightly. Peter though, seemed lost. He walked towards the turtle and patted his back. “But what do I say? I mean, I- I-” Peter paused, searching for words, as Donatello turned around and placed his hands lovingly on his creator’s shoulders, “-It seems so irrelevant.”

“But Peter…” Donatello said as he leaned in to the creator’s ears. “Life goes on.”

As Peter stood there, he just stared at Donatello, in his purple overcoat, walk towards a large black hole, that of a time portal, as the turtle smiled back at him. “Remember, Peter. Life Goes On”

From Blast From the Past Number 45, linked from the Official Ninja Turtles Website and located on the Planet Racer’s Website…

“My parents remember where they were when they heard about the attack on Pearl Harbor. I remember where I was when I first heard that President John F. Kennedy had been shot. From now on, perhaps everyone in the world will remember where they were when they learned of the terrorist attacks of September 11 on the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon.

When I first saw the images on TV of the gigantic smoking hole in the side of one tower, then the enormous gout of flame and debris as the other tower was hit by the second passenger jet, I was stunned and horrified. It was surreal, yet horribly, tragically real. Those images, replayed over and over on TV since that day, are forever stuck in my mind. I think part of what made them so terribly, hideously compelling was that unlike the scenes of previous horrors, like the Oklahoma City bombing, was that instead of seeing the aftermath, we were actually watching -- live, on TV, and repeated many times on tape and in increasing numbers of alternate camera angles -- an actual act of mass murder in progress. I can't think of another time when such a heinous assault has been witnessed, either in person or through the medium of television, by so many.

Many words have already been written and spoken about this tragedy, and many more will come, I'm sure. Even people who did not lose any loved ones in these terrorist attacks have been profoundly affected. I know I have. Our country and most of the world have been forever changed. My heart goes out to those who were lost in the attacks, and to their families and friends, and to the brave men and women who now have to clean up the sites, who have to bring out the dead, and to those who now have to go after the scum who perpetrated these despicable crimes.

I didn't put up a Blast From the Past last week or the week before... after the events of September 11, it just seemed so irrelevant. It still does in a lot of ways. But life goes on... so here we go...”

And go on, it shall... go on... it shall.

Tis All ...

But A Glimpse...