Author's Note: This one is long overdue, plotbunny from one of Tristripe's pieces of fanart. It depicted Raphael and Leonardo leaning over the game Jumanji, and looking like they wanted to play it. I thought it would be a cool setting!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Jumanji the game or the movie, although I have decided to possibly use some scenarios and some kewlio rhymes from them. Also I don't own TMNT, although I really wish I did sometimes.

Prologue

His eyes flicked open, his acute hearing picking up a strange sound. At first, he thought his boys were up again. Preparing to assume the role of the frighteningly stern father, flipping through several speeches in his mind that he could use to send his young sons scurrying back to their beds with utmost haste, he swiftly tied his sash around his robe, and opened his door.

The ruckus did not stop as he'd expected it would, and he did not see small darting shadows fleeing back to their room. All was dark, and still. When he opened the doors to his sons' room, he noted that they were safely tucked in their beds, their slumber untroubled by the strange noise.

Still the odd sound continued. Pausing for a moment, Splinter studied the noise. It sounded as though it were distant, and cacophonous, pounding—like drumming, almost.

Splinter did not know where this peculiar echo could be coming from, and could not decide if it would pose any kind of a threat to his family. It did not sound like construction, as sometimes occurred down in the sewers. There would be voices accompanying the sound of jackhammers, handsaws, and electric screwdrivers. Besides which, the 'drumming' sound felt more rhythmic and constant than the irregularity of construction noises.

Splinter was almost reminded of tribal drumming, such as what he'd seen on a show that his son Michelangelo had been watching.

Yet Master Splinter felt sure that there could be no possibility of any tribal community inhabiting the sewers of New York.

In the end, the aged rat felt that—although he would do some investigation in the morning—no imminent danger was apparent. He should try to get some sleep. With this resolved in his mind, he retired to his bedroom once again, lying down in his bed, and pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

Despite what he'd concluded, somehow Splinter could not shake the feeling of impending peril. Yet, slowly he felt his mind clear, and he fell asleep with distant drumming echoing in his ears.

Drumming.

Drumming.

Drumming.