The struggle subsided, leaving behind only a soft rustle of smoke and a faint smell of ozone. Mickey, covered in dust and bruises, crouched in the shadows, listening to the soft sounds coming from the depths of the Foot Clan's lair. His gaze, sharp as nunchucks, slid over the walls covered with graffiti of enemy symbols, over the torn posters with portraits of Shredder. At that time, in the next room, behind a door covered with a coarse cloth, something was happening that made Mickey's heart beat faster.

He knew that there was danger behind the door. He felt it. But curiosity got the better of fear. It took only a couple of seconds for him to silently unlock the door and find himself in a room illuminated by the flickering light of a lamp. Before he could take a step, his gaze caught on a figure sitting at a table covered with old drawings and diagrams.He rushed towards you, waving his arms, and attacked you with hugs. Caught off guard, you tried to pull away, but Mickey was relentless. He squeezed you in a tight embrace, muttering something about your sweetness