Disclaimer: I do own the following characters; Andrew Walker, Dr Aquel, Dr Yesmal, Dr Welner, Leeroy, Sarah Watson, Raphael (the other one :P), Iris, Gabriel, Diana and Morpheus. I don't own anyone else (apart from the dispensable extras), nor am I making any profits by writing this story. This story will be rated for language and adult themes. …There is a character death, though it is minor. This story is set five years after The Concrete Prison. It's set in the TMNT:TNM universe.

Author's Note: It is strongly recommended that you read at least one of the other two Prison fics. This is the third in the series, and I when I'm writing it I assume that you're familiar with both stories so that I don't have to include reminders of what has happened in the past. You might be able to get away with it… just don't ask me why on earth Raph is Leo's son x.x' To make things easy, the turtles are currently aged 37, Raphael is 17, Diana 13, and Iris and Gabriel are 9. Flashbacks will also feature throughout the story and will probably be defined by Italics.

The Genetic Prison

Chapter One: Urban Myths.

Kauai, Hawaii.

A weary face stared at the humming kitchen appliance, watching as a deflated bag of corn popped and sprung to life as it was slowly cooked. "You know, you shouldn't stand so close," a young voice advised him. Andrew Walker's shoulders rose and fell quickly, rather startled by his colleague's abrupt entrance. Andrew sighed, tiredly looking away from the bustling popcorn bag in the microwave.

It was a small office. Paperwork cluttered the desks while an inadequate kitchenette stood to the side, featuring only a little old stove and a microwave. Two windows lined the walls, but no view or light could be seen since the sun had already set a few hours earlier. Andrew's co-worker leaned against the door frame; the only exit to the room. Thankfully the reception area that the office was tacked onto was less cramped, though Andrew didn't expect luxury accommodation especially when he ran a camp located in the middle of the woods.

"They're sitting around the campfire," Andrew's co-worker said, as though he was admitting that he didn't have the experience to continue on with the guests' activities by himself. Looking back at the popcorn in the microwave, Andrew sighed knowing that he was needed elsewhere. Grabbing a thick green jacket, the wildlife officer prepared himself for the chill of the night, moved through the reception area and stepped outside.

A large bonfire could be seen through the darkened, misty air. Sure enough, all the guests of the camp were sitting around its fiery warmth, and from what Andrew could see, they were getting fairly rowdy as well. The middle-aged man grumped as his young co-worker stumbled to keep up with him. Andrew hated these types. Over the next few weeks, most of the camp was booked by a large film company, with only a few cabins left over for vacationers. Most of the guests were young males who had just finished film school and had found luck by finding jobs in Los Angeles. Andrew didn't even have to ask for their agenda; he knew that Kauai's natural beauty attracted many filmmakers, and the rambunctious, egotistical grad students were probably just simply scouting for a suitable location. However, in the meantime, Andrew hoped to teach them a little respect, especially when it came to the island's mysteries.

"Did ya bring marshmallows?" A skinny man called out before taking another swig of his bottle of beer.

"Smores are only for pissy scout groups," another man said. Feeling adventurous, he leaned forward and poured some of his beer into the fire, causing the flames to roar and leap up with ferocious energy. The others laughed and whooped with foolish excitement at the fire's reaction.

"Idiots," Andrew muttered to himself as he finally arrived at the site. Trying to remain patient, Andrew found a place to sit on a nearby log.

"So what have you got planned? Any freaky island stories?"

"Yeah! Like ghosts and shit," another man rudely said.

"Hawaii does have a number of urban legends. Quite a lot of them feature ghosts, actually," Andrew announced casually, trying to remember his job and stick to his educational spiels. There was a brief glimpse of relief, as everyone suddenly became silent. Andrew smiled and stroked his brown beard. He finally had the stage. "Hawaii's always had a turbulent past. There's a lot of stories surrounding the indigenous people of Kauai and their folklore, while there's been World War Two which has also created some ghost tales," Andrew started, his eyes dancing with excitement in the firelight. He had everyone's attention now.

"You know the urban legend where a boy leaves his girlfriend in the car, only to be found the next morning hung from a tree, his feet scraping against the car's roof?" Andrew inquired. The film crew nodded. "Well apparently that story originated from Hawaii, and I've even heard from some locals that sometimes an apparition can be seen at that spot; Morgan's Corner," the wildlife officer continued to inform them.

"There's a few other urban legends related to Hawaii. One is about a store clerk who fell ill. After being sick for a few days, he died. Inquiring about his death, doctors asked whether he'd been around rodent droppings or urine. According to the story, if mice and rat droppings aren't cleaned up, then they become dry and turn to dust. Being in a storeroom for a supermarket, this dust settles on the tops of cereal boxes, packaging, fruit, coke cans, you name it! The doctor came to the conclusion that somehow the store clerk ingested the dust which later caused organ failure and his death," Andrew briefly retold the story.

"I've heard that one before," one man spoke up. "Apparently the symptoms the man had in the story don't occur in real life when someone's exposed to rat poo," the man continued on, scrutinising the credibility of Andrew's stories.

"They're just urban legends. I never said they were true," Andrew defended himself.

"Tell us something scary!"

"A ghost story!" a man begged.

"I'm afraid there's too many to tell!" Andrew said, causing everyone to fall silent again. "A lot of the tales revolve around night marchers. The night marchers are said to be old warriors who travel around in groups holding torches. Some say that if you see them, then it means instantaneous death, while others say that you can fool them by 'playing dead' yourself. In some stories, cars have stalled or have flipped and crashed because the passengers have forgotten to pray to them when they drive down particular roads. Sometimes the mythical volcano gods are also included into the tales. Farmyard animals have been known to go crazy at night, all staring towards either the woods or road. As part of a Filipino tradition, a woman once claimed she saw an apparition beside her bed one night that disappeared when she wiggled her toes. Other residents have claimed that they've been possessed or ghosts have haunted their houses," Andrew said in a low whisper, causing the keen listeners to lean forward intently to hear what the wildlife officer was saying.

"Are all of them about night marchers?" one interested guest asked. Andrew shook his head.

"Most of them are, however just like any other state in America, we get our fair share of ordinary ghost tales as well," Andrew informed him.

"Have there been any dinosaur stories since Jurassic Park was filmed here?" one asked, obviously being quite a movie buff himself. Andrew smirked at the rather common question.

"No. Not really," he answered. With an intriguing smile and playful eyes, Andrew leaned forward, rested his elbows on top of his knees and stroked his short brown beard with one hand. "There is one story though…" Andrew started before trailing off. Everyone's eyes glistened as they reflected the crackling flames of the campfire, all leaning in forwards even more in order to hear every word that toppled out of Andrew's mouth.

"Is this one scary?" a man dared to break the silence, anxious to hear a good tale just like the rest of his friends.

"It is… because it's true," Andrew said with a rather sinister tone to his voice. The film crew all looked at one another, all desperate to learn more. "It has been said that just after World War Two had ended, a boy was born in a small village in Kauai with a skin disorder. This disease caused his skin to peel and become dry, giving at a first glance the impression of scales. Combined with a sickly, pale green hue, it wasn't long till this boy was known as the 'lizard child'," Andrew paused his story for dramatic emphasis, making sure that he still had everyone's attention. Nothing could be heard except for the occasional rustling of the fire and the wail of a nocturnal bird. Satisfied, he continued on with the story.

"Although other villagers were at first disgusted by his appearance, they soon felt sorry for him and accepted him into society. What they soon found out was that the skin disease was contagious. It wasn't long till whole families developed the infection. When people asked for professional medical advice from other towns, the whole village was instead placed under quarantine. No one could get in. No one could get out," Andrew once again paused and emphasized his last few words. Still holding a serious facial expression, he sat back upright and took a deep meditative breath in and out before telling the next part of the story.

"It's unclear what happened to the villagers next. Some say they all eventually starved to death when outsiders were too afraid to enter the quarantined area to provide aid. It's sometimes said that their souls joined those of the night marchers. Other records say that when the village developed into a state of disrepair, they turned towards the mountains and lived in the forest. On occasion people deny there was ever a 'lizard child' and that the story originated from some old Japanese soldiers who survived a shipwreck in the Second World War, only to live in the forests out of fear of being captured by their enemies. Whatever the case may be… there is definitely something unordinary about those woods," Andrew said, raising his left hand to point towards the volcanic peak of the island and the dense forests that surrounded it.

"People who have stayed at this camp have said that while bush walking they've heard unknown voices in the distance. Since there's no other inhabited place for miles, that of course isn't possible. Some people say they've heard conversations, sometimes yelling, while also the sound of a young girl laughing seems to be a common occurrence as well. People have also claimed to be attacked; scared off by some sort of projectile. There are different theories to this. The legend sometimes says that the citizens of the forgotten village try to lure visitors towards them, as though they are trying to bring new blood into their families. Other times they say that the villagers don't want others to suffer the same fate as them and therefore try to scare them away. Going back to the Japanese soldier theory, some people have claimed that they've seen shuriken, old-fashioned Japanese weapons, lodged in trees. It doesn't really matter what the truth is; if you ever hear voices in the woods, keep to the marked paths and turn and run the other way," Andrew warned all of the young hooligans, finally concluding his long story. The men remained silent for a few seconds until a couple held smirks on their faces, disbelieving how rapt they were in Andrew's tale.

"That's not scary!" A man claimed, chuckling to himself.

"Got any more?" another asked, sounding quite bored. Andrew sighed and tiredly stood up.

"No, sorry. Maybe some other night," Andrew said. "Now just remember that we have a one a.m. curfew. We still have other visitors here on this camping ground, so if we here any noise complaints after that time, I'm afraid there's a twenty dollar fine for all parties involved. We advise you not to go into the woods at this time. Of course we can't stop you, but if you do then any resulting injury cannot be blamed on us! This campfire also must be put out by midnight. Also, always make sure you're wearing shoes outdoors since Kauai is home to a number of snakes, spiders and harmful insects," Andrew finished his spiel, detailing the basic rules of the camp. Although he had already told them earlier that day at the introductory meeting, he still wouldn't put it past them to completely forget all of what he had instructed.

His boots scraped against the dry dirt as he trudged his way back to the office. Once again his co-worker ran to catch up to him. "You always tell that story," the young man stated.

"So?"

"Well I just thought that the toe wiggling story was creepier. Maybe you could tell that one in more detail next time," the man finished his suggestion. Andrew frowned at his reasoning.

"I tell the 'lizard child' story because it needs to be said," Andrew said bluntly, causing the other employee to give him a baffled look. The older man smiled to himself, contentedly knowing the truth of the matter. The legend of the 'lizard child' wasn't made up to keep visitors safe, but rather to protect the island's most unusual and unique inhabitants of all…

The two wildlife officers didn't say another word to each other. Arriving back at the reception desk and front office, Andrew headed straight back to the kitchenette. He froze as soon as he entered the room. The microwave door was left open, the timer paused, and most importantly… the popcorn was missing.

"Figures," Andrew muttered to himself.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Don't worry, the turtles will feature in the next chapter. This was really supposed to be joined onto the following scene, but things got too long, so consider this kind of like an introduction. I don't really know how often updates will come, but I'll try to spew them out as fast as possible ;)