It was another long day in New York City. The kind of day that dragged, the kind that left people exhausted before they even got home. April O’Neil, seasoned reporter for Channel 6 News, was one of those people. She just wanted to unwind, maybe find a good book to lose herself in.
She stepped into a small bookstore, the scent of old paper and ink filling her senses. As she browsed, a peculiar book caught her attention. Large, purple, strange. But it was not the colour that hooked her—it was the symbol on the cover. A foot-shaped emblem, bold and deliberate, as if it were meant to be noticed.
April glanced around. The shop was quiet, only a few customers lingering. Still, something felt off. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck bristled. But she shook it off, assuming that it came from her eagerness to get the book which she paid for and walked out into the neon-lit streets. What she did not know was that two figures, draped in oversized coats, had been watching her the whole time. And they were not just curious customers.
Back in her apartment, exhaustion settled in. She flipped through the book but did not make much sense of it. A motivation for her to bring it to the attention of her dear friends the Ninja Turtles as well as their master Splinter and her dear lover Casey Jones. Still, she copied the foot-shaped symbol onto her arm with ink, tracing it carefully like an artist putting the final touches on a masterpiece. A harmless curiosity. Or so she thought. She fell asleep with the book tucked away in her cupboard.
The next day, in their underground base, Shredder’s patience was wearing thin. He turned his piercing glare on his two henchmen—Rocksteady, the rhinoceros and Bebop, a warthog. “So you just stood there and let Mrs O’Neil take the book?” He thundered lowly and dangerously. Rocksteady shifted uneasily. “Boss, we told you. We sent a message soon as she grabbed it.” Shredder was not buying it. “You should have stopped her before she left.” Bebop grumbled, crossing his thick arms. “Yeah? And get caught makin’ a scene in public? That book ain’t worth jail time, man.” Before Shredder could respond, a metallic, gurgling voice cut through the tension.
“You fools don’t understand.” Krang, a brain-like alien who had been a long-time ally of Shredder, encased in a mechanical suit, sneered at them from his place in the shadows as he emerged. “You fail to do so that everyone there would have been too terrified to interfere! Now, make up for your mistake. Go retrieve the book from its owner. You’ll be pleased to know she’s at home.”
Master Splinter’s face darkened when April visited him and the Turtles the next day and as they were joined by Casey, she told them everything. “April, this is not merely a symbol. It is a mark of great evil.” “Master Splinter look!” said Leonardo as he caught sight of April’s arm. On seeing the tattoo, Splinter’s voice was barely above a whisper. “How did you get this?” She rolled up her sleeve and showed them the symbol on her arm. “I copied it from the book’s cover last night” Her voice was tight, uneasy. “And today… people at work noticed it too.”
Silence filled the room. The Turtles exchanged glances between themselves, Splinter and Casey their unease growing. Whatever April had gotten herself into—it was not just a bad decision. It was something deeper. Something they truly believed was dangerous.
She turned into an alley, heart pounding. Dead end. Rocksteady grinned. “Too slow, sweetie. Hand over the book and you can go.” April’s mind raced. No way out. No backup. Nowhere to run. “Somebody help!” she screamed. A blur of motion. A figure darting from the shadows. Then another. And another. Rocksteady spun around, confused. His attackers wore blue. Moved like ghosts. Silent, precise. Ninjas. Shredder’s ninjas. But they were not on his side and he did not realize that. One struck him in the shin. Another leaped onto his back, striking hard. A third swept his legs out from under him. Rocksteady hit the ground hard. Disoriented. Outnumbered. For the first time, afraid. He scrambled to his feet and ran, disappearing into the night. April stood there, breathless. The Foot Clan had saved her life. But that terrified her more than anything else.
The next morning, April woke up groggy, still shaken from yesterday’s madness. She shuffled into the bathroom, brushing her teeth, her mind hazy. “Wish someone else could make my breakfast,” she mumbled absently. The air in the apartment shifted. She froze. A group of Foot Clan Ninjas appeared before her. She jumped back, yanking a hairdryer from the counter like a revolver. “Whoa!”
But the ninjas did not attack. Instead, one held out a steaming bowl of porridge. Another had toast, sausage, and eggs. Others presented orange juice and coffee. “Breakfast?” April whispered, stunned. The ninjas bowed as they presented it all. “This isn’t a dream, is it?” she muttered. “If it were, there’d be pizza.” Like magic, a ninja produced a box of peperoni pizza.
April’s gaze flicked to her tattoo, then back to them. Realization dawned. “So, this tattoo gives me control over you” Minutes later, she sat at the table, being served like a queen. They even dressed her for work. As she left, she turned to them. “This stays between us. If Splinter, Casey, or the Turtles find out, they won’t like it.” and the ninjas faded into the shadows.
At work, people stared. “Your tattoo looks… different today,” her best friend Irma Langenstein remarked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her voice was casual, but her eyes held something else. Curiosity. Maybe even concern. April glanced at her arm. The ink shimmered under the fluorescent lights. Was it brighter than before? Had it changed overnight? All day, people whispered about it. Not about the news. Not about the latest Channel 6 drama. Just her tattoo. It was unsettling.
Then there was him. The office clown. A guy who thought making her life miserable was his personal hobby. He also loved to trouble others here but her most of all. He smirked nastily as he passed by her desk, coffee cup in hand. And then—oops. He “accidentally” spilled it on her. The hot liquid splattered against her sleeve. It soaked into the fabric. Or at least, it should have.
Instead, the stain vanished. Her clothes were dry. Completely untouched.
The man’s smirk melted into wide-eyed terror. His face drained of colour like someone had just yanked the power cord on his nervous system.
“S-sorry,” he stammered. “I won’t— I won’t bother you again.” His voice had the shaky talent of a guy making a vow he planned to keep. Still, he ran away screaming. Irma just stood there, mouth slightly open, unable to process what she had just seen. The rest of the office? Silent. Watching. A few, including the boss Burne Thompson looked relieved—he had been warned plenty of times. But now? He would not just leave her alone. He would not be bothering anyone again. April flexed her fingers, staring at the tattoo. Something was happening. Something she did not understand. And she was not the only one who noticed.
Walking home later that day after work, everything looked too sharp. Too clear. Her vision cut through the evening’s arriving darkness like a high-powered lens. She could see blocks ahead—details she had never noticed before. Then she saw them.
Rocksteady. Bebop. And they were not just lurking. They were breaking into her apartment – again. Seconds later, they reemerged. And they had the book. Something inside her snapped. A surge of power shot through her veins like an electric current. Then, shadows shifted. Ninjas of the Foot Clan once again materialized from the rooftops, drawn by her silent fury.
The attack came fast and brutal. Bebop and Rocksteady barely had time to react before the ninjas descended on them, fists and weapons flying. The two animals howled as blows rained down (on them).
As Casey skated down the street on his way to April, he, screeched to a stop. His jaw dropped at the sight and he fumbled for his phone. “Guys, get Splinter and meet me at April’s place! I think something’s wrong here!”
The spanking ended when Shredder’s henchmen signalled for an underground escape route. A rocket. They leaped in and disappeared when it retreated back underground. Casey sprinted to April’s side. “April, are you—” His words trailed off. His expression shifted from concern to shock. “You look… different.” She did. Her skin had taken on a faint, light purple hue. The ninjas stiffened, sensing something. A shift in power. A potential threat in their eyes. April raised a hand. Her voice was calm, steady. “Stand down. He’s a friend.” They obeyed.
Casey took a step back, looking between April and the fading shadows of the Foot Clan. “Okay,” he said, exhaling. “Someone really needs to tell me what’s going on.”
“You can’t keep them,” Leonardo said flatly in April’s apartment. “Why not?” April countered. “I control them. They do nothing unless I say so. Look, they even fixed the damage to the apartment.” she pointed out. “They’re Shredder’s minions,” Raphael shot back. “You really want his influence messing in your head?” Splinter stepped forward, holding a small vial. “This potion will remove the tattoo.” He reached for her arm.
“Get back!” April roared. The walls trembled as the Turtles, Casey and Splinter were forced to do as she just said. The ninjas bowed low as she stood tall, eyes blazing. “I am Queen of the Foot Clan.” In a flash, the ninjas whisked her away as her laughter echoed before she and her attendants vanished. Casey clenched his fists and felt despair surge through his mind. “April’s gone to the dark side.”. All Splinter and Donatello could do was comfort him in this supernatural moment.
At the headquarters of the Foot Clan and the Utroms—Krang’s people, whom he led—Shredder paced, seething. “So she still has the book,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous snarl. His minions cowered before him. “And she controls most of my army?!” A shadow loomed over them.
A woman stepped forward, her form bathed in an eerie glow. Her skin—a deep, unnatural purple. Her dark dress clung like shadows themselves, and over it, she wore the unmistakable armor of the Foot Clan. Foot ninjas flanked her, waiting.
Krang’s beady eyes narrowed. “Who—” his voice hissed through the air, filled with menace. “What are you?” April smirked. “I am Queen.” She snapped her fingers. The dreary underground headquarters shimmered. The cold, industrial walls morphed—half ancient palace, half high-tech fortress. A hybrid of past and present, a kingdom forged in steel and history.
She flipped through the book that had changed everything. The pages whispered to her, revealing the Foot Clan’s legacy. Every word an echo of power. Every secret a step toward destiny. She flipped through the book that had changed everything in her. It seemed to be about the history of the Foot Clan itself and to her she felt it was a necessity, perhaps even a desperate one to learn everything she could as a ruler of the Foot. To her, she had no choice. She had to learn everything. Because a ruler who does not understand the past… has no future.
Shredder stepped closer. “Your Highness, you may claim to be Queen, but I am the true leader of the Foot Clan.” April arched a brow. “Your point?” Shredder hesitated. He knew better than to challenge her outright. “We should lead together. You, the Queen. Me, the King. And in return… I’ll teach you the secrets of the Foot Clan.”
April studied him. Then, slowly, she smiled. “Fine. But betray me, and I’ll bury you.” Shredder was irked. His patience, thin as a razor’s edge, shattered as it wore its last thinness. His voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the air with icy precision. “Enough,” he said, the word slicing through the tension. “If you’ve come to join me, then there’s no reason to doubt my word, no reason to think I would betray you.”
His eyes locked with April’s, cold and unreadable—a silent challenge, a warning, perhaps both. April nearly froze as she returned his stare, her gaze unwavering. Then, a slow, calculated smile spread across her face; Shredder’s voice dropped, his words measured and deliberate, carrying the weight of undeniable authority. He did not need to raise it to be heard. It was not just what he said—it was how he said it. A statement, not a threat. Not a promise. A fact. It was clear that he meant every word.
April had always known Shredder was dangerous, but now, for the first time, she realized just how much more he was. He was not simply a villain in her eyes now or rather not anymore now that she was going to stand for what he was standing for. She now saw him was a master strategist, playing a game with rules she could not yet see and maybe even looked forward to being taught by him. And now, standing at this crossroads, she was not sure what move to make even though she believed she was as much in charge and him. But with a steady voice and trusting his judgement, she finally responded, “I pledge myself to ruling with you and following your rule.”
Casey Jones sat slumped, drained of almost every ounce of hope, his eyes fixed on the concrete floor of the lair. Time blurred in the darkness, the only sound the faint hum of the sewer’s distant pipes. No one spoke. No one felt like since the eerie behaviour and immediate absence of April hung heavily over them all, a sadness they could not release themselves from. Even Splinter, the ever-calm sensei, remained uncharacteristically quiet—though his mind was already looking over ways to find her. But Casey? He was consumed by the thought of losing her to evil.
The silence was shattered by the flick of a remote, the muted glow of the TV casting shadows on their faces. Donatello leaned forward, eyes glued to the screen.
“BREAKING NEWS,” the anchor’s voice cut through the air, “BANK ROBBED. NO TRACE OF THE THIEVES.”
Leonardo’s jaw tightened, his grip on the arm of the chair bone white. “I don’t doubt it,” he muttered, his voice a low growl. “April’s gone rogue. And Shredder’s using her to tip the scales. “The words hung in the air, their meaning sinking deep. It was too much to process—too much to bear. April, their dear friend, now an ally of Shredder. And yet, it all made sense.
Later that night, they moved like shadows, blending into the night. Disguised as detectives in heavy suits that concealed their body as much as their faces so they would not be noticed, the Turtles approached the scene, their eyes scanning every inch. The bank was locked down, the front door sealed. But a single, shattered window offered them entry.
Inside, the evidence was clear. Footprints. And not just any footprints. Foot Clan prints. Leopardo’s pulse quickened. This was no ordinary robbery. It was personal. It was a message. The Turtles decided they would keep their eyes and ears open for any robbery or event that seemed otherworldly, for they guessed what had happened and who was responsible for it
Meanwhile, in the depths of his sleep, Casey’s mind drifted into a nightmare. A stage. Bright, blinding lights representing a cruel, twisted show. Shredder—of all people—was centre stage, tapping in sync to a macabre rhythm, his steel-laden feet striking the floor in time with a sickening click. And April. She was there, too. Dressed like some twisted performer, her movements graceful, her body twirling in perfect harmony with Shredder, surrounded by his mindless Foot soldiers, who served as the chorus line as the King and Queen of the Foot became dance partners. The audience cheered, their applause deafening when it was all over.
Casey woke with a start, his heart pounding. Sweat coated his skin, his mind scrambling to make sense of the nightmare. But one thing was certain. “April,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “You’re in big danger and if something happens to you, you’re not going alone. I swear, I’ll bring you back. One way or another.” It was a promise he would keep it. No matter the cost.
Detective and forensic psychologist Alex Cross sat in his cramped office back in Washington, the light of a desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his face thanks to the news in New York having reached him. His colleague, and close friend Tommy Kane, had already gone home, but Alex preferred the quiet, the solitude, to think through the case. The most recent robbery—a series of bank and jewellery store heists that had shaken the city—was unlike anything he had encountered before. No fingerprints. No witnesses. Just a trail of strange footprints, light, and a whisper in the wind about a mysterious figure accompanied by several ninja-like beings.
As he scanned the case files, his mind kept coming back to one name—April O’Neal. He already knew about her as a reporter and on one occasion had even been interviewed by her but because of the description of the figure being a redhead, female albeit purple skinned, it kept returning to her. Nevertheless, the idea that she would become involved in the robberies was still hard to fathom. She had been an investigative reporter, someone with a moral compass. But as Cross knew too well, people could change. They could be swayed. While he did not know her except for that one interview, his instincts told him that this was not just a simple case of theft.
Cross stood up and grabbed his jacket before heading home to his grandmother and children. He was going to leave for New York the next day, to visit the latest crime scene—a jewellery store New York City. He had to see it for himself.
Back in the Turtles’ home, Leonardo paced back and forth. The tension in the air was thick. They had all seen the broadcast on the news about the new robbery, and their worst fears had been confirmed. April was involved in these crimes thanks to her joining the Foot Clan had recruited her, and now she was playing a dangerous game, one that could bring them all down.
“Let’s move,” Leonardo ordered, his voice firm. “We’re going to this jewellery store. We need answers.” The Turtles again donned their disguises—trench coats, fedoras, and dark glasses—to blend in as detectives in the evening. They didn’t want to draw attention to themselves, but they could not just sit around and wait. They needed to investigate.
Donatello, the mechanical genius of the group, whirring with the technical aspects of the investigation. “I’ve hacked into the bank’s security system,” he explained. “The footage was wiped clean, but I’ve managed to pull some residual data. The footprints we found earlier suggest we’re dealing with highly trained ninjas—Foot Clan operatives, no doubt.”
Michelangelo frowned. “It’s hard to believe April would be a part of this. She’s been with us for so long…” “Don’t jump to conclusions, Mikey,” Leonardo said sharply. “Right now we (must) follow the facts, not our emotions. We’re here to find answers.”
As they moved through the crime scene, the Turtles noticed the same oddities Cross had seen before in his office—no signs of forced entry, no alarm triggered. It was as if the robbers had inside knowledge of the bank’s security system. The only thing that seemed clear was the Foot Clan’s involvement thanks to the footprints of Shredder’s minions. This was no ordinary robbery. Someone had orchestrated it, someone with power and influence as well as skill and talent. “The other robbery was not the main message” Leonardo said as he knelt beside a discarded piece of jewellery, his brow furrowing “This one was”
As Cross arrived in New York City, the news of yet another meticulously executed robbery, this time a jewellery one weighed heavily on him. Something about the case didn’t sit right, a feeling gnawing at the edges of his mind. His gut told him that these robberies weren’t just isolated events—they were connected, part of something larger. And though April O’Neal was not directly involved, he could sense a link, one he could not yet see clearly.
Cross had encountered crimes like this before—robberies so precise, they seemed orchestrated. But this one… this one was different. Standing just outside the crime scene, he observed the chaos, his sharp eyes taking in every detail: the lack of forced entry, the almost surgical precision of the theft, and the subtle connection to the other robberies. It all pointed to someone who knew how to manipulate the system, someone who understood the gritty underworld of New York better than most. There was a thread running through it all, a feeling that this was only the beginning.
His mind raced, but his instincts kept him grounded. There was no time to waste, and with night falling, Cross dove deeper into the investigation. What caught his attention were the strange footprints—bright red, outlined in purple. He knelt down, carefully collecting a sample, his mind whirring as he pieced together the puzzle.
As he and his team sifted through the prints, a growing unease crawled up their spines. They were not alone. The familiar hum of the city had gone quiet, replaced by an unsettling stillness. Something felt wrong. He straightened, brushing off dirt from his knees, his eyes scanning the area. A sliver of fading light barely reached the shadowed corner ahead. The air felt thick, heavy with tension—like an unnatural stillness after a heavy rainfall
A rustle broke the silence. Cross stiffened, his hand instinctively drifting to his holster. His eyes narrowed as he swept the darkness, but found nothing. No movement, no sound. He wasn’t one to jump at shadows, but this felt calculated. A chill ran down his spine, the feeling of being watched.
Across the street, partly concealed by a fire escape, a figure shifted — a barely noticeable motion. Cross froze, the weight of awareness settling over him. Whoever was out there was studying him, as intently as he was studying them. He and his team could not see their face, but he knew they were there, lurking just beyond the edge of his sight.
Then, a sound from above—a soft thud, like something landing lightly on a rooftop. The eyes of Cross and the other investigators shot upward, catching the blurred silhouette of a figure moving with fluid precision across the roof. He couldn’t make out details, but their speed, their movement—this wasn’t just a person. This was someone trained, deliberate.
Every instinct told them to pursue, but he held back, waiting. He knew this figure was part of the puzzle. Was it an ally? Or a threat? The figure above hesitated, as if sensing Cross had spotted them. For a long moment, they both remained motionless. Then, as quickly as they appeared, the figure vanished into the shadows, leaving Cross alone with his thoughts and the pounding of his heart.
A scrape of metal against brick interrupted the stillness. Cross spun, hand reaching for his sidearm, but once again—nothing. Silence. But it was not the peaceful quiet of an empty street. It was the tense stillness of something watching, waiting, stalking.
Cross’s grip tightened on his weapon. He realized he was being followed. But by whom? And why? This was not an ordinary game—it was something far stranger, and he was not about to lose. Whoever was out there, they were as much a part of the mystery as the robberies themselves.
Above, hidden in the shadows of the jewellery store’s rooftop, two figures crouched, their eyes trained on Cross and his team. Masters of blending into the city’s dark corners, they had been watching him for a while, waiting for the perfect moment. Their mission was clear: observe, study, but never engage unless absolutely necessary.
They studied him, their gaze sharp. Recognizing him from news reports, they saw no threat—only a potential ally. It was time to reveal themselves. They stepped from the shadows—mutant turtles, unmistakable in every way to him and his team – a reason none of them pulled their weapons out but just stood and stared. “You’re on the case too?” Leonardo asked, his tone cautious but respectful.
Cross, unfazed, studied them in return. He had heard rumours—ninjas, vigilantes, heroes—but their presence here was no coincidence. They were clearly investigating the same robberies. “I’m Alex Cross,” he said evenly. “I’m investigating these robberies. I assume you are too?”
“We know who you are, Detective Cross,” Leonardo replied with a polite nod. “And yes, we’re here for the same reason. Our friend April’s involved.” Cross’s brow furrowed. “April O’Neal. I know her. Used to be a reporter. If she’s connected to these robberies, then this is something bigger than we thought.”
“We know,” Donatello added, his voice tight. “We need to find her. Get her out of the control of those who are really responsible before it’s too late—and stop these robberies from happening.” Cross studied the turtles closely. In their eyes, he saw the same quiet determination he felt inside himself. His doubts had vanished. These vigilantes were in this fight, and he was not about to let them face it alone. “I’m with you,” Cross said, nodding and extending his hand. Leonardo took it firmly, his grip respectful. “We’re in this together.”
The next day, Alex Cross sat in the dimly lit underground lair of the Turtles. He had just met Casey and Splinter while listening to all that had happened from the latter. His mind was soon in overdrive, working through the bizarre details of the case. This was not the kind of crimehe usually faced. But as Casey, his fists clenched tight, recounted the nightmare that had haunted him, Cross could feel the gravity of it. He now understood the history of the Turtles and Splinter as well as their relationship with April and Casey. Now it was their enemies that were the puzzle, their true enemies. The Foot Clan who Alex was starting to understand in a way that rattled him more so than any other criminal such as Casanova or Picasso that he had confronted in the past.
Splinter’s voice cut through the tension, measured, but heavy with something unspoken. “April didn’t know what she was getting herself into. The symbol of the Foot Clan, it’s… hypnotic and she may not have realized that. For many, its power is irresistible.” He paused with concern. “She had it tattooed on her arm but it took her.” Cross’ eyes narrowed as he processed the weight of the words. “So, she brought this on herself?” “It is worse than that Detective” Splinter replied, his tone somber. “She refused our help. Even when we offered to remove the tattoo successfully when she could not, she rejected our help. She became one of them.” A chill ran down Cross’ spine. Betrayal was not new to him, but this felt different. “So, she was involved in the bank robbery after all” Alex’s voice was colder now, his mind snapping back to the heist.
Donatello replied with forced calmness. “Everything points to her and given the state we saw her in last time, there is no doubt in any of our minds that it is her, detective.” Alex, the Turtles and Casey all stood, with hardening expressions hardening. Still, the pieces were almost there. The money. The betrayal. The power of the Foot Clan. And the looming presence of Shredder who April was loyal to. This was going to be the fight of their lives. Cross’s gaze locked respectfully with Splinter’s. “Whatever it takes, I’ll help you take down Shredder and save Mrs O’Neal.”
Splinter’s eyes were steady as he nodded, but his voice interrupted the urgency of the situation. “You’ll need more than just a simple revolver for this battle Dr Cross. Prepare yourself, the Foot Clan and their leader Shredder is no ordinary enemy.”
Then, Splinter reached into his robes and revealed the potion that he had tried to put onto April’s tattoo to wash it off. “This is our only hope,” Splinter said quietly, his words hanging in the air like an unknown promise. Alex Cross’s mind shifted gears. This wasn’t just a robbery or criminal pursuit anymore. This was war.
Deep in the underground headquarters of Krang and Shredder April O’Neal sat atop a throne, her eyes cold and calculating. Seated at her side, Shredder exuded his usual quiet menace but was now an ally for her as the towering mechanical form of Krang remained a constant reminder of their collective power. Rocksteady and Bebop stood on either side, nervous glances exchanged, but neither daring to break the silence.
Shredder’s voice cut through the quiet, low, reverent, yet somehow proud. “How does it feel, your highness, to hold the power of the Foot?” April’s lips curled into a smile, “It’s… everything I ever wanted, My Lord.” She opened the book before her, tracing its cover with a touch that was almost reverential. “But there’s still so much I don’t understand. What does it all mean?”
Before Shredder could respond remembering his promise to teach her about the Foot, his gaze snapped to the side. His eyes narrowed as he saw movement—a shadow darting across the room. “Beware!” he shouted, the word echoing like a gunshot. He spun, his eyes hardening with fury. “Traitor!” April’s shrill command penetrated the rising chaos. “After him!”
The room exploded into intense movement. Ninjas rushed in, attempting to subdue the intruder. But April remained seated, her posture stiff with authority. At Shredder’s advise because it was her first time as queen, she could sit and watch, another way for her to not to let anyone forget her rule.
Shredder stormed forward, his voice a low scowl as Krang sneered beside him. “An impostor!” Krang’s mechanical body shifted, his contempt palpable. The thief’s mask was ripped off, revealing a familiar face—Casey Jones, his eyes wild with defiance. April’s gaze locked onto him, her expression unreadable. “Well, well,” she murmured, “Looks like we have an insect amongst us.”
Shredder’s blade flashed dangerously in the low light. “A traitor who will learn that betrayal has a price.” Casey did not hesitate. He tossed the ninjas aside, drawing a potion bottle from his pack—a last-ditch effort to save April. But as he leapt toward her, one of the ninjas knocked him mid-air, the bottle shattering uselessly on the floor. Gritting his teeth, he snatched the book, a fleeting hope still in his grasp.
Using a technique that the Turtles taught him, he vaulted up onto a railing, 13 meters above the chaos, his hands tightly clutching the book. He shed his Ninja Disguise, focusing entirely on the mission. But he did not account for Shredder’s knowledge of the move. The Foot Clan leader was already there, sword drawn, eyes blazing with fury. “Hand the book over, now!” Shredder roared, the clang of his blade ringing through the air. “I just want the girl!” Casey shouted, drawing a sword of his own. “She’s one of us now!” Shredder thundered and the two clashed, their swords meeting with a resounding crash. As the fight raged, the room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the promise of violence.
Then, in a flash of movement, the Turtles arrived and engaged the Ninjas followed by the entrance of another presence in the fray. Alex Cross, his face a study in grim determination as he led a team of detectives from his department. His team, armed with weapons gifted by the Turtles and Splinter, cut through the Foot Clan’s ranks with ruthless efficiency. They fired shots with precise accuracy, his gun handling as lethal as his mind. When the time came, they wielded a sword—swift and effective—cutting through the Foot Clan’s ninjas. And then, as the chaos intensified, they would switched to a rifle. Cross preferred the power of distance when things got too close.
Back on the railing, Casey and Shredder’s battle reached a fever pitch. The clash of their swords was deafening, sparks flying as they danced in a deadly tone. “You can do nothing without the book!” Shredder taunted in a low voice. “I already have the book!” Casey shot back, not knowing what the Foot Clan leader meant though doubt crept into his words.
“No, you don’t. Ha! Ha!” Shredder laughed, coldly and cruelly. He revealed that he head stolen the book right from Casey’s hands during the struggle. Casey grimaced. “So you have.” But it was far from over.
With renewed fury, Casey launched himself at Shredder, aiming for the arm that held the book. The blade struck true, cutting Shredder and causing him to scream as the book flew from his grip. Casey caught it mid-air, his resolve hardening.
Shredder struck again only to have his move intercepted by Casey’s sword which blocked the strike with a force that sent the Foot Clan leader’s weapon flying from his grasp.
Seeing a weakness in his enemy’s defence, Casey brought his weapon down towards Shredder but seeing it was coming without actually looking, his armour-clad claws caught Casey’s blade with a sickening crunch. The sword shattered, leaving Casey with nothing but the sharp edge of a desperate fight.
Casey was all over the place, dodging both Foot ninjas and Krang’s soldiers. He barely saw Rocksteady swinging toward him from the front, while Bebop—who had found his own rope—was coming from behind. With quick reflexes, Casey ducked, and the two mutants collided in mid-air, tangled in their own ropes. He didn’t waste time and kept swinging, landing near the spot where Shredder had claimed the book. Casey unsheathed his sword, but he knew it was already a lost cause—it was broken. Shredder smirked, swiftly pursuing him. Casey could only evade Shredder’s strikes, desperate to keep him from taking the book.
Meanwhile, Alex Cross, initially armed with a rifle, had fired his last shot, taking down one ninja and trying to line up another. The gun clicked empty. With a silent curse, Alex swung the rifle around, hitting the approaching ninja with the butt of it before switching to his pistol. He balanced his defence between the pistol and his sword, feeling a strange satisfaction with his growing skill with the latter.
Back in the fight, Casey had swapped his sword for his trusty hockey stick, swinging it at Shredder. He landed a few solid hits, but Shredder shattered the stick with a slash of his blade, sending Casey sprawling to the ground. “Victory is the Foot’s,” Shredder sneered, holding his sword to Casey’s throat.
Just then, the sharp crack of a gunshot pierced the air. Shredder felt something bump his helmet and looked down to see a bullet at his feet. Turning toward the source of the shot, he saw Alex Cross standing there, aiming his pistol with deadly precision. “Ah, the famous Alex Cross,” Shredder mused. “Back away from him!” Alex commanded, his voice steady.
Shredder smiled darkly. “Very well,” he said, pointing his sword at Alex. “But you’ll soon learn that a sword’s blade is far more effective than a bullet.” Alex didn’t hesitate. “I’ve always known that,” he said, holstering his pistol. “But I came prepared.” In one smooth motion, he drew a sword—one Master Splinter had provided him. Without another word, the two collided in a fierce duel, their blades meeting in a flurry of sparks. Despite it being his first time wielding a sword, Alex held his ground, neither man able to gain the upper hand.
Seeing Alex struggle, Leonardo—ever the strategist—joined the fight. With a precise strike, Leonardo drew Shredder’s attention, giving Alex a moment to press the advantage. Together, the two were able to overpower Shredder, each move calculated, each swing a step closer to victory.
As the chaos unfolded around her, April surveyed the scene, her expression a mix of amusement and derision. “Marvelous, great entertainment!” she sneered, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Raphael, realizing they had nearly lost sight of their goal, sprang into action, aiming to reach April with the potion that could free her from her corrupted self. But before he could get close, Shredder’s ninjas intercepted him, knocking him out of the air. The potion bottle shattered on the floor, its contents wasted. April, too absorbed in the fight, didn’t notice the ninja, a female one who had slipped up beside her, holding a bottle identical to the ones her allies had. The ninja opened the bottle and poured its contents onto April’s tattoo. The transformation halted immediately, the tattoo beginning to fade.
April’s eyes widened in horror as she watched the fading ink. “Nooooo!” she screamed, her voice filled with dread. Suddenly, the entire battle came to a halt. Shredder, realizing the danger to April, commanded his minions to stop the Turtles. But in an unexpected twist, April—using her remaining power—ordered the ninjas to destroy the book that had turned her into this ghastly version of herself. One of the ninjas, noticing Shredder was holding the book, hurled an explosive at it. The book was reduced to ashes in a fiery explosion.
As Shredder turned toward the charred remains of the book, Leonardo saw his opening. With a powerful leap, he kicked Shredder into one of the Foot Clan’s rockets, sending him soaring toward the surface. The rocket shot upward, with Shredder grumbling as he sat on the ground, disoriented, when it emerged.
Meanwhile, back at the Foot Clan’s hideout, Krang narrowly avoided a hit from Donatello’s stick, thanks to a timely rescue by one of his soldiers. “Enough of this!” Leonardo shouted, helping April to her feet. “We need to get out of here!” He motioned for the others to move, and together with Casey, Alex, the detectives, and the mysterious female ninja, they grabbed all that the Foot Clan had stolen. Before anyone could stop them, they took another rocket and shot up to the surface.
As they emerged, Alex turned to Leonardo. “I’d better get the stolen money back to the bank ASAP.”
Leonardo nodded, but his attention was soon drawn to Shredder, who was slowly rising from the ground, still seething over his loss. Without hesitation, the female ninja kicked him back into the rocket. The blast sent Shredder spiralling back down, grumbling all the way. Krang, now being carried by one of his soldiers, stormed toward Shredder, furious. “You’ll pay for knocking me out of my walker!”. Shredder knew he was in big trouble
“Who are you?” Leonardo asked, eyeing the female ninja with curiosity. Lotus removed her mask, revealing herself as a former ally of Shredder’s who had left the Foot Clan after finding Leonardo a worthy ally. “Lotus?” the Turtles exclaimed in unison. “Splinter told me about what happened,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “I’m glad this mission is complete.”
“Indeed,” came a familiar voice from the shadows. Splinter emerged from the alley, his presence steady and comforting. “The Foot Clan and Shredder, along with Krang, may still be at large, but we’re pleased to have you back, April.” Now fully recovered, April embraced Casey, who returned her affection warmly. As the two shared a passionate kiss, Alex, the detectives, Lotus, and the Turtles watched on proudly, while Splinter observed them with quiet satisfaction.
The End