Book 2: HomeFront

It's a Stretch

 Across seas at the same time (or a day later), the family of underground mutants were working up a sweat. With almost no normal gym equipment, it amazed the teenagers how many things they could do without the use of proper gym equipment at home. With her hands supporting her over a table top and her legs off of the platform, Mona Lisa was able to accomplish elevated pushups because Michelangelo held her legs over his shoulders. Simultaneously, Mona would go down when Mikey squatted and lifted herself up when he came up. The extra inches in height in respect to the table and her arms provided the elevation, benefiting both with the level of difficulty and extra weight on the other end. Nearby, Donatello was by the wall. Somewhat like Mona, he did a different degree of pushups in which his feet were in the air as he pushed against gravity. He kept near a wall in case his legs were to become off balanced as it got harder and was the safest way to do it without harming his face in any way if he were to fall. Then, there was Raphael. With one half working on arms, he and Mikey wanted to fulfill their leg quota. Doing a lighter type of exercise (since this guy constantly goes hard in his spare time), he had old, raggedy hand weights. Five each were wrapped around his legs with their Velcro as he jump-roped for minutes at a time.

"You got to keep the count Mike." Mona struggled under her breath. With pushups, much like everybody else, it was hard to speak for you were too focused on bringing your body up.

"My bad, 56." He apologized and resumed the count. His quads burned, gritting his teeth which each number said aloud.

"What's good my homies?" A young voice sounded off. Raphael served as the identifier so the rest of the family may presume their workouts. The rope he twirled stopped before him, dragging itself towards his feet.

"'Sup Angel." His voice met her once the light of the room hit her bright expression. Subconsciously assured, the three working out sped up their workout now that there was no need to be alarmed. "You're quick to come back." Just as she walked into the room, the great smell of hard work hit her nose like a truck. To keep from being rude, Angel did not plug her nose or complain. Instead, she kept it to herself, taking fewer breaths to keep the smell of sweat from going into her nose more than it needs to.

"Like I got somethin' better to do." She laughed a little. "Pumpin' iron up in her', huh?" She observed the sweaty troupe. Their foreheads shone, but with the lack of actual clothing, only Mona's hard work shown through a dark pink that soaked in various parts of her clothes. Both she and Mikey kept their eyes clenched, letting their hot breaths out with every rep.

"Wanna hop in?" Raphael chuckled, noticing the slight look of worry on the Latina's face as she observed the two.

"Yeah!" She shouted enthusiastically.

Without hesitation, Angel dropped to the ground with her stomach to the ground. The toes of her converse pressed into the concrete as her hands stretched out from either side. Her palms pressed into the ground. Then, she began to push herself up in slow, struggling counts. After 10, she flopped onto the floor. She let the cool concrete press against her face, letting Raphael laugh at her efforts. "Okay, I'm done." She groaned. Donatello, done with his sets, bent his legs forward until him toes touched the ground in front of him. Then, he gave himself one last push to lift his torso up and stand up straight. In fears of falling over from the slight dizziness he was sure to endeavor, he leaned onto the wall for his own safety.

"I thought you said you could hang with us. This is one of those things we do." He teased. Angel threw a hand at him, which quickly flopped back onto the ground.

"I am a little, developing girl. Don't push me."

The round of sarcasm and joking stopped abruptly as a tearing sound shut them all down. Mona stopped, in which Mikey stopped what he was doing too. They saw her looking down over by her left shoulder. When she looked, her face of pain turned into annoyance. They quietly waited for an answer.

"It ripped." She stated plainly. Unexpectedly, Michelangelo's face contorted grotesquely. His face shook long and slow, letting some feature change and move as he did.

"Dude, seriously? I had my mouth open and everything!" He whined. The lizard lady shot a glare at him until rolling her eyes at his ignorance.

"Lower me down." She demanded. Slowly realizing that he had taken her words out of context, the orange clad terrapin squatted down one last time. Mona slowly walked backwards on her hands to allow her feet to fall odd his shoulder correctly when he would lower them. Once he was able to sit on his heels, he took Mona's legs off of his shoulders and gently lowered them until they reached the ground. It had been a while since her feet felt the floor and it took some time to getting used to. Mikey stepped back as she looked back to her left shoulder. Mona raised her left arm and looked down. "That's just nice." She commented sarcastically. Seeing that the other were curious, she turned to let them see. Indeed, the tearing sound came from the action when the fabric of her wardrobe ripped in a straight line from the top of her armpit and continuing down to some place inside her corset. Angel walked up to her. She put a fist up to her mouth as she looked at the sweat stained tear.

"Got too strong that that dress couldn't handle it." Only a few strings held onto dear life while the rest gave up, exposing her rich green skin.

"You're telling me." Mona sighed. "Right when we got done."

"Ooo! Girl!" Angel gasped. "What you doing with this on all the time?" She had just noticed how stuffed up Mona Lisa looked with her wardrobe on. The day before, she was too focused to get to know them to realize how stuffed like a chicken she was.

"I really don't have anything else to train in." She admitted. "Of course, I have sweats, but I'd hate to get them burned up or ripped out in the field."

"C'mon. You can buy sweats anywhere." Angel agged on. Mona Lisa shrugged.

"I guess it holds some value to me."

"Can I ask why?" Angel leaned forward with a new found curiosity. Mona Lisa smiled as she recalled how she had obtained it.

"My dad gave it to me. He had the women of my village make it specifically for my own body modifications."

"That ain't workin' now? Huh?" She gave her a once over, poking fun. Mona giggled, holding a hand over her lips.

"Yeah."

"Where's your dad at?" The Latina asked. In a split second, the boy's expressions went from light to worry. Yet, Mona gave her a straightforward answer.

"He died almost a year ago." She replied. Angel lifted her hands up in surrender as she took a step back.

"Say no more. Mine's gone too." She admitted as well. Then, she clapped her hands, snapping everybody out of their funk. "Now, are you done with all a" she wiggled her pointer finger, implying about their workout "... dis?" Mona and the boys looked around and nodded. They had a good couple hours before her arrival.

"Pretty much." Mona replied.

"Yep." Donnie nodded.

"Cool." Angel's face brightened back up. "Now, imma need you to strip, change, and hand them tight things to me." She listed each thing with a count of her fingers.

"What?"

"You and I are gonna redesign this."

"Yeah?" Mona spoke enthusiastically and excitably.

"And imma take it to my granma and see what we can do with it." The Latina added.

"Really?! Yes! Thank you, Angel!" She wanted to hug her so bad, but when she did, the girl took a step back. Quickly, Mona realized how moist her clothes were and refrained from doing so. "You're the best!"

"I know!" Angel blew on her nails and giggled. Then, she grasped Mona's webbed hand like an excited teenager would when she wanted her best friend to go do something exciting. "Now, come on!"