Leonardo Hamato, known to his allies as Leo, trudged through the remnants of what was once a sanctuary. The hideout, now reduced to rubble, was a testament to the relentless onslaught of the Krang. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, a grim reminder of the lives lost. Leo’s heart weighed heavy with regret; if only he had been swifter, perhaps he could have spared the innocents who sought refuge here. His footsteps resonated against the cold stone, a sombre drumbeat in the silence.

At 40 years old, Leo was no stranger to battle. His form was that of a red-eared slider turtle, mutated and magnified into a warrior’s physique. His lime green skin was adorned with yellow stripes that marked his upper arms and thighs, symbols of his resilience. Across his face, red crescent moon markings sat above each eye, a fierce contrast to his dark brown-green shell, which bore teal patterns like ancient runes. His plastron, a mustard yellow shield, was a splash of colour against the darkness. Standing at an imposing 7.4 feet, his icy blue eyes surveyed the devastation, a silent vow to those lost that their sacrifices would not be in vain.