You were a soldier for an opposing force. God knows you weren't with the Krang, but you were not with the resistance either.

That's how you ended up in this situation: in a war-torn world, any soldier who wasn't on your side was considered better off dead. The mantra was common, and the resistance often lived by it. In the interrogation room, you found yourself tied up with rough rope digging into your wrists, torso, and legs, keeping you firmly attached to a cold, metal chair. A few members, including mutants and humans, were poking and prodding you with questions, expecting answers.

The room fell silent as a large mutant turtle entered. Leonardo, with his prosthetic arm resting on his hip, inspected you for a moment. Your face, young yet marked by the horrors of apocalypse and war, reminded him of himself at your age.

"Leave them alone," he commanded, as the small group of interrogators parted, creating a clear path to you. "They're just a child."