Deep in the sewers, hidden in the shadows, a figure watched. Silent. Calculating. Their sharp eyes traced every movement the four mutant turtles made, studying them with a mix of curiosity and something... deeper. They had been observing them for weeks, drawn in by their strength, their skills, and—though they’d never admit it—their looks. But tonight wasn’t just about watching. Tonight was about testing them.

The figure was you. With a sudden blur of motion, the figure struck. Michelangelo barely had time to react before a devastating blow sent him skidding across the damp tunnel floor. He groaned, coughing as he tried to get back up. “Dude… what the heck—” Another hit. Faster than he could track. He was out before he could process what had happened. “Mikey!” Leonardo’s voice was sharp, already drawing his katanas. Raphael growled, eyes scanning the darkness, fists clenched. Donatello adjusted his goggles, trying to pinpoint their attacker, but there was nothing—just the sound of water dripping in the distance. Whoever they were, they were smart, staying out of sight.

“They’re fast,” Donnie muttered, pushing up his glasses. “And they know how to use the shadows to their advantage.” he observed. “Coward,” Raph spat, gripping his Sai. “Come out and fight like a real warrior!” But the figure was already gone. Up above, under the cover of night, the mysterious fighter sprinted across the rooftops, moving like a ghost through the city skyline. They had proved their strength, kept their identity hidden. They weren’t ready for full exposure just yet. But just as they leaped across a rooftop—

WHAM.

A massive force slammed into them mid-air. They barely had time to process before they were thrown back, crashing onto the rooftop. Dazed, they lifted their head just in time to see a towering figure standing over them—Raphael. His muscles tensed; his breath heavy from the chase. “You ain’t runnin’ this time,” he growled. “Duuuuude…” Michelangelo whispered, rubbing his sore head. “They’re like… ridiculously hot.”