Chapter 6

Magia was well liked by everyone. Well, almost everyone. Don often complained that Magia got in his way when he was conducting his experiments. Because of this I had to keep a close eye on where she went. Unfortunately, Magia would easily become bored and would begin to explore. One night as Splinter was teaching me chess, Magia got into a bad pickle with Don.

"Argh!! Aeval!!! Get your stupid ferret before it ruins my work!!" he yelled from across the room as I tried in vain to make a good move against Splinter.

"Just pick Magia up and put her down, away from your work. After you scold her she won't do it again… Well, for a while anyway…" I explained as Splinter contemplated his next move.

"It’s not that easy. I can’t reach her!"

As Don’s news sunk in, Splinter replied in a soft chuckle, "Check mate."

"What?" I asked, referring to Donnie more than to Splinter.

"He said ‘Check mate,’" Leo replied from the couch.

"Huh?" I asked, still a bit confused. "Donnie didn’t say ‘Check mate’; Splinter did!" I didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, I ran to Don’s section of the room, which he called his ‘laboratory.’

"Where is she?"

Donnie pointed to what looked like a badly put together toaster attached to a pole. "She is in the barrel of my Nucleonic Modulator Dispenser!" he explained. "I have tried to get her out but she refuses to even budge! I need her out so I can finish!"

I rolled my eyes at him and lifted up the toaster-like object. I tipped the barrel downwards and out slid Magia, who was dirtier than a pig in warm mud.

"Now look at you!" I complained to Magia. "See what your curiosity has gotten you into? Now I have to give you a bath!" I hesitated as what I said repeated through my ears. ‘Déjà vu,’ I thought. ‘Where had I heard that before?’ I shook the thoughts from my head. I would contemplate them later; I had a pet to tend to.


After cleaning and feeding Magia, I had supper with the rest. As usual, I was the only one who prayed (I found that praying made Mikey’s food taste better). The guys ignored me and began to inhale the food set before them, while Venus and Splinter smiled as they usually did at my ritual. It was strangely quiet at the table during the meal; the silence was driving me nuts.

"The pizza’s delicious Mikey!" I said, trying to break the stillness of the table. Michelangelo looked at me and slightly smiled.

"Thanks, Ave, this is the first time I tried making Pizza Stew."

‘Someth'n is up,’ I thought, ‘I can feel it.’

My paranoia told me that the turtles were hiding something from me; I hoped it was only paranoia. ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ they say. Well, I’m not a feline; I’m a turtle; a ‘Cryptodira Sapian’ to be exact. A Cryptodira is a subspecies for Chelonia, the genetic name for the types of turtles that pull their heads into their shells by ‘telescoping movement’ of the neck.

As you can see, I have had a lot of time on my hands lately; I borrowed Donnie’s Funk & Wagnall’s New Encyclopedia, mainly volume 26, which contained the information about turtles. I find that the name ‘Cryptodira Sapian’ is better than ‘mutant biped turtle’ or ‘sub human turtle’ or anything along those lines.


Later that evening, I sat on the couch and watched the news with the others. There had been a substitute reporter for the extent of my time with the turtles, but now the real reporter was back. Apparently the turtles had known her because they were all rather excited save for Venus, who was just as confused as me.

"Hello, New York, this is April O’Neil, and I am back with the eight o’clock news. In Houston, Texas, two years back, three teenage girls had been kidnapped with no trace. Randi Tezlof…"

That name made me want to faint. ‘Randi?’ I asked myself. ‘Am I Randi Tezlof?’

April went on with her report as I thought. "…Morgan Daily, and Dianne Rose were last seen on July 4, 2000, during a party to celebrate Independence Day. The three girls, which were between the ages of thirteen and fifteen at the time, had left the party early because of a fight and were never seen again. The H.P.D believe that the captors took them to New York City. Here are the last photos taken of them."

Three pictures appeared on the screen; the names of the girls in question were under each picture. Randi Tezlof had golden brown hair that barely brushed her shoulders, hazel eyes, and olive skin. Morgan Daily had blonde hair, gray eyes, and honey tan skin. Dianne Rose was an African American with black hair past her shoulders, dark brown eyes (they looked almost black), and light brown skin.

"If you have any information about their disappearance or where they might be, please call 1-800-371-2539. Thank you. This is April O’Neil, signing off. Back to you, Vernon!"

The names and pictures raced through my mind. I was Randi Tezlof, but where were Morgan and Dianne? Dead? No, that can’t be, but where were they? The answer was somewhere embedded in my brain. I just had to find it, but for now, should I tell them my real name?

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