Hi, all! Well, this is my first time writing something like this, so wish me luck. I'd love to hear any feedback you guys are willing to give. The multitude of italics in this story are the thoughts of Maria at the time of the events, rather than the past tense narration not in italics. It's just a different writing style I thought I'd try out. This first chapter doesn't really have any turtles in it, and the next one probably won't either. I just wanted this first chapter to be a character exposition. Hope you all enjoy this!

Disclaimer- Now and for the rest of this story, I will never own TMNT. There. Now engrave that in your mind, so that I never have to write a disclaimer for this story again, and you never have to read one!

Chapter 1 - I Really Hate Spiders

Get a job, Maria. It'll be good for you, Maria. You need the money Maria.

Honestly! I know I really wanted some extra cash, but this was ridiculous! There I was, cleaning the sewers of New York City! I could think of a million things I'd rather do than cleaning up who-knows-what in the middle of a dank, dark tunnel that makes me want to puke every time I breathe.

Stupid mayor with his stupid city cleanup in response to stupid water quality and back-up complaints. Isn't this what the concept of a sewage plant is for?

Okay, I didn't mean that. This probably helps out somehow. Lowering the rate of sewage backups or something like that. Still, it was better than some other jobs I could have gotten.

Like telemarketing. Or McDonalds.

At least down here I can use my Ipod on the job, and I don't have to worry about rude customers since I don't see, let alone talk to, anyone.

Oh, gross! I don't even want to know what that is!

I quickly went about dislodging a rather large lump of something gruesome with the metal pole my employer provided. The only things that kept me from quitting this job were the provided sanitary gear, flashlight, and the consoling thought that it was like an adventure in an unknown dungeon.

And the fact that those specks of dirt on the wall, the oddly moving specks of dirt, were just specks of dirt. I don't need to clean that dirt, though. Or touch it. Or stand anywhere near it for any longer than necessary.

The actual work of the job was remarkably easy. Once I started to forget about the pungent smell and didn't look too closely at grossly unidentifiable objects. All I had to do was walk around the sewers, making sure that everything went with the water flow and nothing was clumping up. I even get a map so that I know where I'm going. I get the day off when it's rained a lot too, due to dangerously high water levels.

I turned the corner, keeping with my good old right turn rule so that I wouldn't get lost. Sure I get a map, but I hate staring at it the whole time I walk, so I just count out a nice number of right turns to make in the tunnels, and mark where that will leave me on the map. That way I can put the map away most of the time. Then, it's just a matter of making those turns myself and repeating the process until my shift is over. I was currently on turn number five out of eight, soon to encounter the sixth turn. In fact, I almost missed said next turn, in the form of an abandoned looking door inset in the sewer wall, while staring at the water flow.

Which, oh so coincidentally and definitely not on purpose, also allows me to ignore the specks of dirt shifting on the wall.

"Wow. Can't believe I almost missed that! That IS the next turn right? I'd hate to get lost down here just because I was too unobservant to notice the next turn. There's not even that much to distract me down here either! I really gotta work on that." I said to nobody in particular.

Unless you count the specks of dirt now falling gracefully from the ceiling that most definitely can't hear. Because they are dirt.

This rambling and talking to myself brings up the question of my sanity, which is actually still intact at the moment believe it or not. Yes, when I work in the sewers, away from the company of other living beings, unless you include the dirt, I have a slight tendency to lose a bit of my sanity. But I swear it always comes back! It always starts with me talking to myself, and the dirt, and it occasionally works itself to be a little more extreme.

Like the dreaded Overtime Incident. Mom still gives me weird looks whenever I hold chopsticks. Like she still thinks I'm going to start scolding Al, Jimmy, and Marvin about the way they fail at holding my chopsticks again. Don't get me wrong, they still can't hold chopsticks to save their lives. I just regained enough sanity to not talk to my fingers in front of my mom.

Back on the subject of the lovely inset door. Honestly, the thing looked like nobody had touched it in a couple decades. The entire surface was covered in mold, or algae, or rust, or whatever that stuff was that just enhanced how unused the door looked. Spider webs stretched from the handle to the sewer wall.

How they got there when there are no spiders in the sewers is anyone's guess.

I quickly swept away the spider webs with the end of my pole. They came away easily, leaving the way clear for me to reach out and open the door.

But first! Definitely need to check around the handle to make sure here are no spiders there. Not that there are spiders in the sewers, or that I'm scared of them or anything. I just don't wanna touch one.

After I assured myself that the handle was safe to touch, I reached out and tugged on the door.

Jeez Louise! I know I'm not really athletic or anything, but there is no way I should be too weak to open a stupid door!

The thing wouldn't budge. I didn't bother counting the amount of times I kept trying to tug open the door. Like the result would change if I did it a ton more times. To say the least, I became extremely frustrated and yet I was too stubborn to just walk away and forget the door.

And obviously, when I can't forget about the cause of my frustration, the next best option is to take up my metal pole and attack the door with all of my mature, pent up fury.

Obviously, the door didn't magically open after I vented out all of my energy. Especially when you consider that I had to pull the door to open it. And considering that a pull force is a vector that extends outward from the door and all of those attacks of mine were a vector that extended inward from the door I can logically assume that, if anything, those attacks were the exact opposite of what I needed in order to open the door.

WOW. I need to stop paying attention during physics class. I'm actually starting to apply it in the real world.

It took me a while to catch my breath after my little episode, "Alright…Mr. Door…you may have…won that round…but…I'm not giving up…not 'til you open up and let me…finish my eight right turns."

I'm going to give up really soon. If it doesn't work on my next try, I am totally walking away and never mentioning this event to anyone.

Luckily for me and my big talk, the door actually opened on my next try. Which was really weird because I barely put any strength behind my tug. I had given up. I don't know what made the door open. It might have been that all of my attacks shook loose rust from the door hinges, but whatever it was, the door was now open.

Maybe it was all some strange worthiness test. And the door realized how awesome I was after my display of infinite fury, and decided that I was one of the great few allowed to pass through it…yeah, right.

With the door out of the way, I stepped into a narrow passage.

It took approximately half an hour of walking down a dark tunnel without any right turns to realize that the wonderfully difficult-to-open door was most likely not meant to be one of my right turns. All of the walls looked the same, and there wasn't any sewage anywhere.

All in all, the passage was incredibly boring. I can't even find the words to explain how boring it is to walk down an endless tunnel, with no interesting details, for half an hour. I was so unimaginably bored that I had begun skipping and singing show tunes along the way.

You may be wondering why I didn't just turn around back the way I came, and the answer is simply that I thought it would be a waste of an hour of my life. If I spent half an hour going down the tunnel, then I would have spent a total hour in that tunnel. Only walking. A waste of time that I could have spent doing something even slightly productive.

I've already gone so far. I might as well keep going and find out what lies at the end of the tunnel.

There may have been a hint of the same stubbornness that afflicted me at the Difficult-to-Open Door Incident still existing when I made that decision. All the same, I was skipping, singing show tunes, and following the light of a dim flashlight down an endless tunnel.

"-It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! Ya dada dada da-" It was just as I was reaching a point of the song where I forgot the lyrics that I found my endless tunnel stopped by a similar, but not identical, mold/algae/rust covered door.

The main difference between the doors was that, while the first was meant to be pulled open, this new door was meant to be pushed open.

And as a girl who just finished walking down an unbearably long tunnel after opening a similar door, I did what anyone would do and began working to push open the door.

My new door appeared to admire the previous door's resistance. The only problem was that, while I desperately tried opening the first door I was able to hang on the doorknob, and the new door made me press all my weight against its surface. This didn't seem too bad until the damp, underground floor made me lose my footing and fall face first to the ground.

I refuse to admit how many times I've landed right on my face. I'm amazed I don't have a bloody nose yet!

Thus, I was once again stuck, frustrated, at an immobile door. Using my previous experience with immobile doors, I once again went into a raged, granted tired from a long walk, attack with my metal pole.

And once again, violence does not appear to be the answer to opening doors. But maybe it'll open when I try pushing again? Otherwise I'm probably stuck on another hour long walk down the tunnel. This will end up worse than the Overtime Incident at this rate.

Unfortunately, my strategy didn't work this time. The door continued to refuse to move. I sadly began to turn around to begin my long trek out of the tun-

And I'm met with a SPIDER right in front of my face. Not dirt! Most definitely a spider hanging from an invisible thread on the ceiling! Oh my God! Spider! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!

With a muffled scream, I bolted in the opposite direction of the nightmarish creature. Which, of course, ended with me ramming into the good old mold/algae/rust door. Running from a spider gave me much more motivation to get to the other side of that door than simple curiosity, though.

The door quickly gave in to my terrified shove, and flew open. I lost my balance from the sudden loss of resistance and found myself flat on the floor.

Oh joy. Just what I need, another faceplant.

After brushing myself off and regaining my dignity, I began investigating my surroundings. On the ground was a large pile of plaster or drywall or whatever, which appeared to be both recently removed and the most likely cause of the door's stubbornness.

More importantly, the spider appears to be nowhere on me or in my sight. Out of sight, out of mind. It never existed.

With the most obvious and the most important details out of the way, I continued on to survey the rest of my surroundings.

A sorta abandoned subway terminal? Or an underground room designed to make you think it's a subway terminal?

I only questioned its subway terminalness because within the room were a couch, t.v., pinball machine, and a tire swing. All in all, it looked like a fun little secret hideout instead of an old, empty subway terminal. Then again, what type of person makes a secret hideout in the dark, smelly sewers?

This is probably a break room for the sewer workers! Not really likely, but I'll go with it. I wanna play pinball! And since this a break room for diligent workers like myself, I have every right to go ahead and play.

Thus, with intentional naivety, I ran to the pinball machine.

I played three whole games of pinball before I stopped.

And I'm only stopping because the stupid machine keeps making the ball go right where the little hitty thingys can't hit the pinball! I know it's doing that on purpose!

I let out frustrated groan and began heading towards the exit, because the last of my reason was telling me I was starting to lose my sanity again, when I heard a voice, and a figure came out from behind a Japanese style door.

"My sons?"

When our eyes met, I could tell the figure was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Except, I'm pretty sure I didn't look anywhere near as scary as he was at that moment, considering I had a strong feeling that I was going to be attacked if I moved. And honestly, I felt pretty stunned by what I saw in front of me.

Why is that guy wearing a rat costume?

"Um…..hello?"