So Ill Dance Rewrite

Donatello rummaged through the scrap yard, searching for any possible new parts for Shelldons upgrades. He could hear the distant chatter of his brothers in the turtle tank, his cuff being unmuted in the case of Raph needing him to check in. He couldn't hear much other than the sharp clank of the metal being placed or thrown onto other pieces of metal as he set aside the useless material. He murmured to himself as he did so, listing off what things could be salvageable and what things couldn't as he simultaneously hummed notes to a song he was listening to on his phone when he wasn't murmuring. He danced a bit (or as he liked to call it; "Jammy-Jammed"), mindlessly doing a few moves here and there as he searched. He hadn't noticed the faint footsteps of something approaching his destination over the music and the chatter. Or if he had, he just tuned it out and chalked it up to being his brothers from the comm or an animal. The footsteps grew closer, closer, closer. They became louder, louder, louder. But when the softshell had finally noticed the sounds, it had been too late. . . *Click**Shift***SCREAM—**