The next morning seem to be like any other morning.

Leonardo was the first to rise, heading down to the kitchen and took a seat with the paper in hand. Donatello was next, although instead of coming in with his normal gaze of need for coffee, he was fidgety. He was more awake than he would normally would be. As if paranoia became part of him.

Leo took note of this bizarre change in character in his brother.

"Don, you feeling okay?" He asked. Donatello blatantly ignored the question and headed straight for the coffee maker which to his unfortunate circumstance, was broken. It was filled half way with coffee from yesterday, cold and icky.

"Dammit." He slurred, placing the coffee holder down and rubbed his eyes. Sleep was not his aid. No not one bit. For some odd reason he was introduced to strange unreal circumstances that he has never experienced. He knew it was from that book he looked through. It's horrors now forced to be forever remembered and replayed. He took a breath, and steadied himself. He knew he had to continue his research with that book, for it was the only one so far that meant anything at all.

"Don?" Leonardo began to stand up when he gain no response from his purple banded brother. Donnie looked over at him then covered his eyes.

"I'm just exhausted." He admitted before going to the fridge and pulling out a water bottle and sat across from Leo who took his own seat once again.

"Get anywhere with those books?" He asked, taking a sip from his tea. His face scrunched up slightly. The tea was more bitter than usual and a tang of sour in it. He looked down to see a tint of darker color in it. It gave him a set of unease but quickly shook it off.

"I'm not really sure. Most of them were written in latin. Nothing I could really understand. The only book I saw that got me anywhere but no where at the same time was a book on tortures. I have a feeling who ever was the last Foot's victim didn't end very well." Donnie continued his explanations and twirled the water around in the bottle.

A loud and obnoxious yawn came from over head, expressing the fact that Raphael was awake. He flipped over the edge of the second floor and came down to the kitchen, sticking his face in the fridge looking for food.

"Mikey hasn't started breakfast yet? It's almost eight." He mentioned, taking the carton of milk and gulping down some of it's substance. Leo shook his head.

"No he isn't up yet. And neither is father either now that I think about it." He looked back at his father's door and grew worried.

His attention was drawn back to the stairs to show Mikey walking down with something in hand. The three older brothers watched as their youngest dragged himself and sat down in one of the chairs at the table. Leo looked over him and stood up immediately.

"Mikey where did you get that bruise?" Mikey didn't respond right away. When he looked up, it wasn't his lively look. No, he looked tired, drained from his energy, like he didn't sleep at all last night.

He brought up with hand to his neck where Leo was referring to and thought about it.

"I uh, was moving around last night and fell off the bed. My neck kinda hit the bed stand when I fell. I'm kind of a klutz ya know?" he chuckled slightly but Leo could tell something was wrong. He opened his mouth to retort when the sudden noise of the door behind him opened. Master Splinter walked out looking tired and frail.

"Master Splinter are you alright?" Donnie asked, standing up with Raphael and Leonardo to help their father. Michelangelo remained in place, watching as his father slowly made his way inside the kitchen. His breathing suddenly quickened and he gripped what was in his hand tighter.

"Father are you feeling alright?" Leo asked. Master Splinter shook his head, trying to rid of the haze that was fogging his sight and mind.

"I awoke feeling strange, like something wasn't right." He blinked hard a few more times before his vision focused on his youngest son. Their eyes met, but something wasn't right. Splinter looked into the eyes of Michelangelo but saw nothing. His youngest, when seen was filled with excitement and life. Now, looking into the blue irises that were so common and so intriguing to see, were filled with nothing. A strange aura surrounded Michelangelo. It was dark and festering. He needed to look farther into it. He pushed his older sons off and away and stood on his own.

"Meditation in an hour." was all he said before taking off in the other direction. Raphael, Donatello, and Leonardo all stood for a moment confused. Raphael looked over to Mikey whose eyes were still glued to the door their father went through. He walked closer to the younger and noticed something in his lap.

"Whatcha got there bro?" He asked trying to peer over to see. Mikey only stuffed it down farther away from view.

"Nothing." He responded not looking at him. Donatello felt awkward and decided to head for his lab, catching the attention of his brothers.

When he made it to the room, his eyes fell directly to the little red book that held his only hint as to what the foot was up to. He reached out and opened it only to be able to choke on the air he was breathing. The book was blank. Rushing through each page, the pages that were filled with so much description, and so many drawings, were all gone. He began to panic and grabbed another book and looked inside. Blank. He threw the book and picked up another. Blank. Each book he took into his hands he found them to be empty of any of the information that was in them before.

"No. Nononononononono." He mumbled to himself, still throwing the books around.

Minutes past and Donnie went through every book to find nothing but white pages staring back at him. There was no way. They were detailed, each layered efficiently on point. What happened.

"Don you okay in here?" Raphael asked as he and Leonardo walked inside to see the splay of books all over the floor. When he bent down and picked one up, he opened it to find it lacked anything inside.

"Donnie I thought you said they were written in Latin?" He asked, skimming past the white pages.
"They were." He snapped at them. Raphael picked up a book for himself and flipped through it.

"I ain't as smart as you bro but these books got nothing in them." He said, slamming the book with one hand.

"No they were filled with words! Pictures and descriptions in this one!" He held up the red book to show them.

"I think you were tired Donnie. That was an intense patrol last night, it would just make sense-"
"Leo this makes no sense! These books had information in them! I'm not crazy." Donnie's eyes fell to the doorway to see Mikey standing there.

"Mike..is that the doll from last night?" He asked suddenly. Mikey looked down at his hand to see the copper colored doll hanging limply in his hand. Mikey looked back up at his brothers.

"Master Splinter wants to start meditation." Purposely ignoring the question. He turned on his heel and walked away. The older three stood for a moment.

"That was creepy." Raph commented. "Why is he carrying around that nasty thing?" Leo thought about the question but couldn't really come up with a reason. Donatello threw down another book before marching to the door.

When they made it to the room, Mikey was already seated but their father wasn't there yet. His hands were in tight fists resting on the top of his thighs. The doll tucked away in his belt. The other side door opened to reveal their father.

"This will be an open mind meditation. We rarely do these but today I feel it is necessary for you all to open yourselves to me." He paused and looked down at Michelangelo who was staring back up at him.

"Will that be a problem?" He asked. Though his expression never changed, his tone did.

"Not at all father." Slowly, Mikey closed his eyes, leading the meditation it seemed. Leo, Raph, and Donnie took their seats before also entering into a deep trance.

Master Splinter entered each mind with no issue to come by. He saw Donatello's frustration about the books, and his curiosity of what may have happened to the writing. Raphael's mind focused mainly on his missed meal and the snippiness coming from Michelangelo.

Leonardo's mind seemed to be a little strange. It was distracted. Not by anything that was going on but instead being countered by something else. Splinter ignored that factor and moved on to his main point; Michelangelo. Master Splinter chose this mediation because what ever surrounded Michelangelo hid perspicuously well. He needed to dig deeper and this was the way to do it. The moment he tried to step into his sons mind, he saw it was blocked. His son was not meditating like he played to do so.

He sighed before bringing his spirit back to the material world.

"Michelangelo, please open your mind to me and meditate." When Splinter opened his eyes, his body froze. He was staring at Michelangelo dead in the eye. This stare he was giving him was challenging, making the fur on his neck stand up.

There was twitch. A twitch in the corner of Mikey's mouth, forming the thin line of his lips into a smirk. His eyes narrowed and became mischievous.

Splinter tried to move, to grab the attention of his other sons but a sudden tightness in his throat stopped any attempt. He was being choked, choked by nothing. He fell on his back, grappling at his throat to remove the intrusion that prevented him from breathing. The black dots began to form in the corner of his eyes. The strength he possessed was dwindled away. He felt over his throat, feeling the strain of his muscles and the veins that stuck out. But what sent his heart racing, the distinct feel of a knuckle and a finger at the top of his neck; underneath his skin and fur.

"Father!" Leo screamed. When he no longer sensed the presence of his father or Michelangelo, he took himself out of the trance and found his father struggle for air. He shook Raph and Donnie awake and the three of them went to their father's aid.

As the three tried to save Master Splinter, Mikey shut his eyes for a moment, only to open them and felt strangely dizzy. The last thing he could recall was sitting at the kitchen table talking about the bruise on his neck. He looked forward and saw the scene with his father. He gasped, trying to get to his feet. Something stopped him. It couldn't be explained. A cold shiver ran down his spine, making him remain seated and shake with fear. That voice that echoed in his head. The voice that covered his cries and shadowed over his pleas for help.

"Mine."