Author's Note: Less time to write but still too many stories in my head. This is one of them.

Alternate Universe of the turtles' future. Mainly 2003 verse with a bit of the 2007 and 2012 shows.

I don't own the turtles.

And happy year end's celebrations to you all!

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Michelangelo bowed to the cheering crowd. Once again, his one-turtle-show was a huge success.

"Thank you… Thank you…"

He caught the bunch of flowers a particularly bold fangirl was sending his way and flashed her a brilliant smile. She fainted in her boyfriend's arms - a grumpy-looking guy who glared at the turtle on stage.

Michelangelo stifled a chuckle and bowed again. He couldn't blame the man. It must be hard to live in the perpetual shadow of one of the most famous global stars ever.

Who would have guessed that he, Mike, the outcast mutant freak, would have the opportunity to taste such celebrity?

And to think that the now disgraced Agent Bishop was the one to thank for that situation. Without the man's latest experiment and the wave of mutations that followed, he would still be hiding in a sewer.

With a final bow and a backward somersault, Michelangelo disappeared behind the scenes. His manager, a paunchy human named Timothy, immediately hurried after him.

"Mike, you outdid yourself! Our sales of goodies are skyrocketing. Your fans will want a dedication. Could you come to the stadium entrance at once?"

"In a minute, Timmy, I'm going to refresh that face for the ladies," Michelangelo answered, a smug smile on his lips.

Timothy nodded and left him at the doorstep of his dressing room. Michelangelo pushed the door and collapsed in his comfy armchair with a satisfied groan. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, at the sweat droplets falling from his neck, at the smile still plastered on his lips.

His gaze drifted to the picture pinned to the wall, with its four masked turtles grinning at him.

Without a second thought, he took his cell phone and chose a contact.

The answering machine. He would have to leave a message.

Again.

Michelangelo made sure his disappointment didn't show in his voice before he talked.

"Hi Don, it's me. I hope you're not overworking yourself. I've just finished my daily performance, and wow! You should have seen me! Awesome as usual!"

Michelangelo wondered whether he should reiterate his invitation for his genius brother to come and watch his new show, but he knew how busy Donatello's governmental employers kept him.

"I'm going to sign T-shirts and caps now. I'll call you again later, okay?"

Michelangelo hung up. Should he try Raphael next?

He quickly checked the Post-it note Raphael had scribbled for him, noting his shifts of the week, and grimaced when he realized that his brother was working right now.

Better not to disturb him while he was interrogating a suspect, in stake out, or anything else a cop had to do to keep the crime at bay.

Michelangelo tapped the armrests with his fingers, wondering vaguely whether he should try to reach his third brother. Leonardo had no cell phone these days, but he had made clear that Michelangelo could always 'call' him through meditation whenever he wanted to talk… Except said Michelangelo could never remember how the time difference worked, and he didn't want to wake his brother up, and…

Somebody knocked on the door.

"Mike, what are you doing? There will be a riot if you don't show up soon!"

"I'm coming, Timothy, I'm coming!"

Michelangelo stood up and quickly went to the bathroom to wash his face. He had responsibilities as a star, and couldn't disappoint the people who had made him their whole world.

Besides, this was what he had always wanted.

Wasn't it?