Post by seasons on Mar 3, 2010 1:14:03 GMT -5
Well, here goes. I'll admit to a few things: 1) I've had a headache for a couple of hours now; 2) I struggled to find a good way to pull off dialog because a part of me refused to use the other canon characters for it (and misrepresent them somehow); 3) I thought it'd be kinda funny to reverse the tech-support situation from TMNT 2007 (only I decided to not be as cruel); 4) Yeah, I always figured Donny thought Mikey was pretty brainless at times (sorry Mikey!).
If requested, I can put up the Shredder one I wrote as well, but I don't know if I'll have the time/concentration to play both. *shrug!*
*****************
Behind heavy goggles, the turtle’s eyes watched carefully the tools in his hands, and the circuit board beneath them. With great care and precision that belayed the size and number of his fingers, he soldered the replacement capacitor onto the board. Setting down the solder gun and coil of solder, he picked up the magnifier to doublecheck his work.
"Excellent!" he said with satisfaction. "Now I just hope this board still works. Note to self, don't let Mikey play near the power cords again." He frowned down at the burned out surge protector nearby. "Hard enough to salvage these parts..."
Taking up his screwdriver, and grateful nothing else got fried, he went about reinstalling the motherboard into his big computer tower. Next to it is yet another computer. On the desk, four monitors, two keyboards, and two mice. As Raph was prone to calling it, it was Donny's 'Command Center'. But a few seconds later, the only thing that interested Don was the alarm rattling itself across the desk.
"Awww, shell." Crawling out from under the desk, he caught the alarm and shut it off. "Guess its back to training. Least Master Splinter gave me thirty minutes this time to fix this." Donny took his time setting away the tools, knowing that he really shouldn't dawdle. To keep him from spending too much time on his electronics, machines, and vehicle ideas, Master Splinter had implimented a strick rule: set amount of training time each day, and any breaks he got to do his other work before that training was done had to be limited in time.
"Course no plan survives contact with the enemy," he remarks to himself, grabbing his bo staff and pushing one of Mikey's skateboards away from his desk. He swears, the things must be multiplying and spreading! Just to be sure, he turns off the other computer and unplugs it before heading for the room he used for form practice.
Today he'd been told to go through the basic katas blindfolded, a reasonable request in his mind. There were too many opportunities for them to get caught in compromised vision situations, especially dealing with the Foot. Holding his bo in the crook of his arm, he twisted his mask to cut off his sight. Then he set to work.
Side-sweep. Step. Uppercut, reverse strike. Roundhouse, bo jab, vertical block. He stepped through the long and complex katas with extra care due to his artificial handicap. Many times before he'd performed the motions, but as these were his first attempts blinded, even his attention to detail and percision failed him a few times, resulting in stumbles that would've been embarassing if any of his brothers had been there to see. But he knew they couldn't be, they were off doing their own work.
Or so he though. But he found out different when he reached the end of his sets and his ears caught the sound of clapping. And Raphael's snicker. This was gonna be a long evening...
"No...no...ma'am, its...don't put me on---" he sighed as some sorta twisted elevator music began emitting from his phone. "...hold. Why, tech support, why?" He eyed the screens to the left side of his desk, of which one was blank, and the other was some strange cacophony of colors and pixels. "Come on, nothing had *looked* wrong with the card, I just need some---hello?" he stopped himself hopefully, hearing the music stop. Then it started back up and he just groaned.
"I swear Mikey, one of these days you're gonna get electrocuted if you don't watch where you skate," he muttered to himself, waiting. He twirled a pencil around his fingers, which he dropped quickly when he finally heard the faint 'hello?' from the phone. "Hello? Oh! Nice to meet you, Danny. My name's Donny. Yeah, it is funny. My card? Its a 5300. Well, the screen's a mess, like there's a translation glitch from the board to the card. Or maybe card to monitor, hard to tell. The cause? There was a surge that blew out the protector. No, no, card doesn't show any external signs of damage, and the fan's running on it. Check the native driver? Gimmie a sec to swap the port."
He ducked under the desk to move the monitor cord from the graphic's card's output to the motherboard's integrated port and returns to the phone and monitor. Unfortunately, it looked no better.
"No, no change. Dead board?" He sighed. "Alright, well thanks. Eh, now I have an excuse to upgrade. What's that? Oh, sure, I'll take the customer satisfaction survey. You have a good day too. Bye." As the electronic survey voice started, he hung up. "Well, computer, guess we'll have to put off our work for a bit longer. The irony? Mikey hasn't realized you're the one with his games..."
If requested, I can put up the Shredder one I wrote as well, but I don't know if I'll have the time/concentration to play both. *shrug!*
*****************
Behind heavy goggles, the turtle’s eyes watched carefully the tools in his hands, and the circuit board beneath them. With great care and precision that belayed the size and number of his fingers, he soldered the replacement capacitor onto the board. Setting down the solder gun and coil of solder, he picked up the magnifier to doublecheck his work.
"Excellent!" he said with satisfaction. "Now I just hope this board still works. Note to self, don't let Mikey play near the power cords again." He frowned down at the burned out surge protector nearby. "Hard enough to salvage these parts..."
Taking up his screwdriver, and grateful nothing else got fried, he went about reinstalling the motherboard into his big computer tower. Next to it is yet another computer. On the desk, four monitors, two keyboards, and two mice. As Raph was prone to calling it, it was Donny's 'Command Center'. But a few seconds later, the only thing that interested Don was the alarm rattling itself across the desk.
"Awww, shell." Crawling out from under the desk, he caught the alarm and shut it off. "Guess its back to training. Least Master Splinter gave me thirty minutes this time to fix this." Donny took his time setting away the tools, knowing that he really shouldn't dawdle. To keep him from spending too much time on his electronics, machines, and vehicle ideas, Master Splinter had implimented a strick rule: set amount of training time each day, and any breaks he got to do his other work before that training was done had to be limited in time.
"Course no plan survives contact with the enemy," he remarks to himself, grabbing his bo staff and pushing one of Mikey's skateboards away from his desk. He swears, the things must be multiplying and spreading! Just to be sure, he turns off the other computer and unplugs it before heading for the room he used for form practice.
Today he'd been told to go through the basic katas blindfolded, a reasonable request in his mind. There were too many opportunities for them to get caught in compromised vision situations, especially dealing with the Foot. Holding his bo in the crook of his arm, he twisted his mask to cut off his sight. Then he set to work.
Side-sweep. Step. Uppercut, reverse strike. Roundhouse, bo jab, vertical block. He stepped through the long and complex katas with extra care due to his artificial handicap. Many times before he'd performed the motions, but as these were his first attempts blinded, even his attention to detail and percision failed him a few times, resulting in stumbles that would've been embarassing if any of his brothers had been there to see. But he knew they couldn't be, they were off doing their own work.
Or so he though. But he found out different when he reached the end of his sets and his ears caught the sound of clapping. And Raphael's snicker. This was gonna be a long evening...
"No...no...ma'am, its...don't put me on---" he sighed as some sorta twisted elevator music began emitting from his phone. "...hold. Why, tech support, why?" He eyed the screens to the left side of his desk, of which one was blank, and the other was some strange cacophony of colors and pixels. "Come on, nothing had *looked* wrong with the card, I just need some---hello?" he stopped himself hopefully, hearing the music stop. Then it started back up and he just groaned.
"I swear Mikey, one of these days you're gonna get electrocuted if you don't watch where you skate," he muttered to himself, waiting. He twirled a pencil around his fingers, which he dropped quickly when he finally heard the faint 'hello?' from the phone. "Hello? Oh! Nice to meet you, Danny. My name's Donny. Yeah, it is funny. My card? Its a 5300. Well, the screen's a mess, like there's a translation glitch from the board to the card. Or maybe card to monitor, hard to tell. The cause? There was a surge that blew out the protector. No, no, card doesn't show any external signs of damage, and the fan's running on it. Check the native driver? Gimmie a sec to swap the port."
He ducked under the desk to move the monitor cord from the graphic's card's output to the motherboard's integrated port and returns to the phone and monitor. Unfortunately, it looked no better.
"No, no change. Dead board?" He sighed. "Alright, well thanks. Eh, now I have an excuse to upgrade. What's that? Oh, sure, I'll take the customer satisfaction survey. You have a good day too. Bye." As the electronic survey voice started, he hung up. "Well, computer, guess we'll have to put off our work for a bit longer. The irony? Mikey hasn't realized you're the one with his games..."
