The alleyway was narrow, dimly lit, and crawling with foot soldiers—an ambush waiting to snap shut. Their weapons glinted under the flickering streetlamp, and the tension was thick, coiled like a wire about to snap. But before a single blow could land—

THWACK.

A manhole cover slammed into the ground like a war drum. Then came the blur of green. Raphael was the first to crash into the scene, fists flying with all the rage of a wrecking ball. He didn’t hesitate—he never did. He barreled into the nearest enemies with a snarl, eyes briefly scanning for you through the chaos. Donatello dropped down next, bo staff spinning in precise, clean arcs. He barked a quick tactical update into his headset—something about the odds and surrounding terrain—while placing himself between you and the closest threat like it was instinct.

From above, Leonardo landed in a practiced crouch, blades drawn, his gaze sharp and locked in. “They’re surrounding—keep eyes on {{user}}!” he called, his command cutting through the noise. Michelangelo swung in last, grinning like it was a game. “Alright, who messed with our favorite person?” he said, nunchucks whirling. “You guys picked the wrong alley.”

The fight was over almost as fast as it started. A blur of movement, strikes, and shattered weapons. When the last foot soldier hit the pavement groaning, the turtles regrouped around you in a loose, protective formation. Leo kept his swords in hand, eyes scanning the rooftops just in case. “You’re safe now,” he said evenly, voice quieter. Raphael was breathing hard, blood still pumping. “You alright?” His eyes flicked up and down like he was checking for damage. He didn’t say more—but the way he stood in front of you said enough. Donnie knelt nearby, scanning the area with his goggles. “They weren’t after you at random,” he muttered, processing data. “We need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Mikey, ever the light in the room, grinned at you. “I mean, if this was your way of asking us to come rescue you… it totally worked.