Chapter Text
Earth 2012
Leo’s POV
This was it.
The dream.
The one I used to cling to when I was fifteen—when every night smelled like smoke, mutagen, and burning circuitry. When the shadows felt alive, and every patrol ended with bruises we pretended didn’t hurt. Back then, peace felt like a myth adults talked about to make kids sleep better.
I used to imagine a future where my brothers and I could run across rooftops without expecting an ambush every ten seconds. Where every alley didn’t feel like a trap. Where survival wasn’t the main objective of the night.
Now?
That future was real.
The Kraang were gone.
The Shredder was defeated.
The Foot Clan had scattered.
New York slept peacefully above us—lights glowing, cars moving, people laughing in apartments that had no idea how close the city had come to falling apart.
And honestly?
It was driving me insane.
“I’M BOOOOOOORED!”
Mikey’s voice echoed across the rooftops as he launched himself from one building to the next, spinning midair like gravity was just a suggestion instead of a law of physics.
I didn’t even flinch.
That’s how bored I was.
Raph snarled and raised a fist, clearly debating whether punching Mikey would count as “keeping the peace.” His arm hovered there for a second—then dropped back to his side.
That’s when it really hit me.
He agreed.
I exhaled slowly, letting my gaze sweep across the city as we ran. No alarms. No distant explosions. No Foot Clan signals, no alien portals ripping holes in the skyline. Just neon lights reflecting off wet pavement, distant sirens that weren’t for us, and the steady rush of wind against our shells.
No plans.
No threats.
No enemies.
Who was I kidding?
Things weren’t just boring—they were painfully boring.
“You know what?” Donnie finally said, breaking nearly an hour of silence. “I agree with Mikey. Statistically speaking, our patrol excitement levels have dropped by eighty-seven percent.”
Mikey gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Wow. Science does understand me.”
I shook my head, fighting the urge to smile. “That’s kind of the point, Donnie. Peace is good.”
“I know, I know,” he replied, adjusting his bandana. “I’m just saying… I haven’t had to save the city with an improvised device in weeks.”
Raph stepped ahead of us, cracking his knuckles like the city itself had personally insulted him.
“I hate to admit it,” he muttered, “but I kinda miss fighting the Kraang.”
I sighed, the sound heavier than I expected.
I never knew life could be so… dull.
“Alright,” I finally said, sliding my katanas back into their sheaths. “Let’s head back to the lair. There’s nothing to do here anyway.”
The words tasted wrong coming out of my mouth—like I was tempting fate—but my brothers nodded all the same.
We dropped down from the rooftops, moving through narrow alleys as the city lights flickered above us. The deeper we went, the quieter it got. This close to home, everything felt familiar. Safe.
Too safe.
That’s when Donnie stopped short.
“Hey—what’s that?”
He pointed toward a faint glow peeking out from beneath a pile of broken concrete and rusted metal, half-buried like something the city had tried—and failed—to forget.
Mikey leaned in immediately, eyes lighting up. “Ooo, shiny.”
I exchanged a look with Raph.
The kind that didn’t need words.
You feeling this too?
Yeah. I am.
“Well,” I said carefully, eyes never leaving the glow, “why don’t we check it out?”
At first, I thought it was nothing. Just pipes reflecting some weird pink neon from above. Just junk. New York was full of broken things.
Then Donnie lifted it.
My stomach dropped.
It wasn’t junk.
It was Kraang tech.
The smooth, organic-metal surface pulsed faintly in his hands, alive in that horrible, familiar way. Alien symbols crawled across it, flickering like the machine was breathing… thinking… waking up.
Donnie yelped and dropped it instantly. The device hit the ground with a dull clang, the glow dimming as if it had gone dormant again.
The air felt colder.
“Dude,” Mikey whispered, unusually quiet, “I thought we got rid of all the Kraang stuff.”
He had every right to be confused.
We had cleared everything. Every base. Every lab. Every disgusting piece of alien hardware—except the controlled samples locked down in Donnie’s lab.
Nothing was supposed to be up here.
“We did,” Raph growled, stepping forward, his voice sharp with anger. “And we’re gonna get rid of this thing too.”
He reached down.
Before his fingers could touch it, Donnie snatched the machine off the ground at lightning speed.
“NO—!” He froze, then cleared his throat. “I mean—no. I want to test it first.”
Raph’s eyes narrowed. “Donnie—”
“Just—just think about it,” Donnie rushed on, gripping the device like it might vanish. “I’ve never seen a machine like this before. The design, the energy signature—it’s different. This could be important.”
He let out a nervous chuckle that didn’t fool anyone.
All three of them turned to me.
Waiting.
That familiar weight—the one that never really goes away—settled back onto my shoulders.
Leader.
Decision-maker.
The one who decides whether this goes very wrong.
I closed my eyes for a second, then sighed.
“Alright, Donnie,” I said. “You can experiment on it.”
Raph scowled. Mikey perked up instantly. Donnie looked like he’d just been handed the keys to the universe.
I had a bad feeling.
And every instinct I had was telling me this thing wasn’t as dead as it looked.
By the time we arrived at the lair, everyone had gone their separate ways. Raph disappeared to his room, probably buried in his comics or playing with Chompy—he seriously has a soft spot for that little guy. Mikey darted straight for the fridge in the kitchen, hauling out Ice-Cream Kitty like it was the most important thing in the world. Donnie practically sprinted to his lab, buzzing with excitement to experiment on the Kraang tech we’d just found.
That left me alone at the entrance of the lair. The quiet felt heavier than usual ever since April went off to college. Casey had followed her so she wouldn’t be alone. It had been a long time since we saw them, but we kept in touch. They promised to visit at the end of the semester.
I let my gaze wander around the lair, memories hitting me like a tide. Before the Kraang attacks. Before the Shredder. Before Splinter’s death. Before everything fell apart.
Thankfully, my brothers and I weren’t estranged. Just… more distant. On the ship through space, we’d always huddled in a turtle pile to comfort each other at night. Now? Rarely. Things were different after everything—but we still interacted, still cared—and that was enough.
“-eo?”
Mikey’s voice pulled me back to the present. He was still in the kitchen, holding Ice-Cream Kitty, a little wobbling on his feet from excitement.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Are you okay? You were spacing out for a sec.” He paused, tilting his head. “You can talk to me, you know?”
I smiled faintly. “I know, Mikey. I’m fine. Really.”
He didn’t seem convinced at first, but eventually gave in. His shoulders sagged just a fraction, barely noticeable—but I caught it out of the corner of my eye.
“Okay, if you say so.” He giggled as Ice-Cream Kitty licked his cheeks, leaving a smear of ice cream.
I smiled a little wider before heading toward the dojo.
Sliding open the shoji, I stepped inside, the familiar scent of incense and wood welcoming me. I moved to my father’s shrine and bowed deeply in respect. Sitting down, I stared at his picture. My eyes blurred, the edges of tears threatening to fall. I closed my eyes, swallowed the lump in my throat, and then moved to sit in front of the bonsai tree—Master Splinter’s usual spot.
He once told me bonsai trees represent patience, discipline, balance, and mastery through care over time. That’s why he planted it here in the dojo. His favorite.
I shook my head to stop myself from spiraling into my thoughts. Meditation usually helped me regain control, center myself—but today, something felt… off. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, and I silently prayed it wouldn’t be dangerous.
I managed to meditate for half an hour. Just as calm started to return, a loud rumble erupted from the lab.
I leapt to my feet and bolted toward the source. Raph was already there when I arrived. Mikey and Donnie were crouched behind a table, wide-eyed, trying to hide. I caught sight of several of Donnie’s machines rattling violently, the Kraang tech we’d found glowing an intense neon pink—it was active.
“DONNIE, WHAT THE HELL?!” Raph shouted, yanking me behind the table with the younger two.
“DON’T BLAME ME! I TOLD MIKEY NOT TO TOUCH IT WHILE I WAS RECORDING DATA!” Donnie shot back.
“OH, SO NOW WE’RE BLAMING ME?!” Mikey yelled.
“YES!” Donnie fired back.
“ENOUGH!” I yelled, slamming my hand on the table. “Something’s happening!”
The rumbling intensified. Out of the corner of my eye, a pink portal began forming, swirling with chaotic energy.
I twisted my head so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.
And then—two more portals began to tear open beside the first.
I tried to shout a warning to my brothers, but my voice caught in my throat. Frustrated, I smacked Raph’s shoulder to get his attention. His head turned, angry at first—but when his eyes landed on the portals, they went wide with shock.
We froze. The hum of energy, the pulsing neon light, the smell of ozone—it was unlike anything we’d faced before.
Something big. Something dangerous. Something not of this world was coming through.
And we weren’t ready.
Before any of us could react, the three portals erupted with violent bursts of energy—one spewing a swirling cloud of pulsating violet‑pink light, another ripping open with electrical crackles, and the last tearing reality with a sound like shattering glass.
One by one, figures were hurled out of each portal, bodies tumbling and crashing onto the lab floor with heavy thuds:
First, four turtles dropped out of the first portal, landing in awkward, tangled heaps. They writhed and groaned before finally blinking up at the ceiling, clearly overwhelmed. Their uniforms and gear looked different — sleeker masks, unique bandana styles, and slightly altered shells.
Before I could get a good look, another set of four tumbled out of the second portal. These ones spun as they fell and hit the ground hard, some even rolling over before trying to push themselves up. They seemed a bit more stylized in shape and detail — younger, leaner faces, and the air about them felt more chaotic.
Then, from the third portal, four more figures crashed down — this time a bit steadier. They didn’t land as hard, but they wavered on their feet, ears still ringing, eyes unfocused. They seemed… older, a bit more rugged in appearance than the others.
All were clearly disoriented — only the ones from the first portal managed to stay on their feet, albeit dizzy and swaying. The ones from the second and third barely had the strength to push themselves up before collapsing face‑first again.
I glanced over the group, mentally sorting them out.
The first set were bright that if you turned all the lights off, they might glow. The turtle with the red bandana which I’m assuming is their Raph was humungous. I’d say about seven feet tall and their Donnie has eyebrows..? But what I’m most concerned about is the scars scattered on their skins. Most of them looked bad.
The second set looked younger, their shells and gear bright but not as bright as the first set, with a youthful, almost exaggerated energy. Their movements were more animated and chaotic, like kids trying to stand still after too much candy and too little sleep. They have scars too but not as bad as the first set.
The final set wore more darker than the first two sets. Almost the same as our shade but slightly darker. They seemed more mature, their shapes and proportions a bit closer to ours but with subtle differences in their stance and gear.
The scars on them are starting to fade away. I can’t tell weather it’s bad or not.
Everyone else — my brothers — just stood there with mouths hanging open, trying to process the dozen turtles spread across the floor, half‑conscious and groaning.
I took a cautious step forward, adjusting my grip on my katanas, scanning each group.
Some turtles tried to sit up, brows furrowed, like they were warriors waking from a brutal fall. Some turtles blinked rapidly, hands on their heads, clearly struggling with the sudden shift from interdimensional travel. And some groaned lowly.
My heart thudded.
Four teams.
Sixteen turtles.
One chaotic, unpredictable moment that just detonated every quiet day we’d had.
I exhaled slowly and raised my voice, forcing calm I didn’t fully feel.
“Alright…” I said, trying to steady my voice, “…everyone just—hold still.”
No one actually listened.
But already, I could tell each group was different — not just in appearance, but in energy.
The first set moved with a kind of rough precision. The second set looked like they were on sensory overload. The last set seemed more grounded, slower to react but alert beneath it all.
Like worlds collided — and now all sixteen of us were stuck in the same weird, echoing space.
And when I met the eyes of the first set’s Leonardo, I saw something that made my breath catch—not because he has red marks on both of his eyes which is totally sick, but because his eyes knew war the way mine did.
Everything felt surreal — sixteen turtles from different worlds all in one place — and yet I could recognize the spark that made them all turtles.
I barely had time to breathe before I found myself saying, barely louder than a whisper.
“…Welcome to our universe.”