It's the middle of the night. The usually busy streets of New York City are dead quiet. The occasional bird or passing car is heard in the distance. But other than that, it was perfect for a certain box turtle.

Mikey had snuck out of the lair. He needed to get some fresh air. Ever since the failed Krang invasion, he's been painting more, and more. But after a bit, he quickly ran out of walls and spaces in the lair, which led to him leaving the lair, late at night. The newly repaired New York had plenty of free walls and places for him to paint. So, he painted murals, vent art and just some plain, old, graffiti.

After finding a good enough spot and with spray paint in hand, he started to paint. Painting like this, away from his family and the stress of everything, gave him a type of calm.

This piece was going nicely. Lots of different colours made it stand out on the dark building.

But, just when he was about to finish, he heard, or well, felt something behind him. His body tenses slightly, and slowly turns around. He was fully expecting to see his brothers there, ready to scold him for leaving the lair without telling anyone. But instead, he sees you, staring at his art piece.