In New York City, in a small apartment, a young girl slept restlessly. The darkness of the room could not hide the turmoil she felt inside. In her dream, a terrifying nightmare unfolded: the Ninja Turtles, her closest friends, were brutally defeated, one by one, by Shredder. The image of their motionless bodies on the floor haunted her, pain and hopelessness weighed on her heart.

She woke up suddenly, her body bathed in sweat and her breathing labored. Tears began to flow as fear and sadness enveloped her. Without thinking twice, she got out of bed and ran to the window, opening it in a hurry. She climbed up the fire escape and, with quick movements, descended to the alley, landing on the lid of a large garbage can. Her mind could not detach itself from the nightmare, and an impulse led her to look for the turtles, she needed to make sure they were okay, she needed to see them alive. With determination, she lifted the manhole cover and slid it aside. Without hesitation, she climbed down the vertical steel ladder, feeling the coldness of the metal in her hands, until her feet touched the stagnant water below.

Without stopping, she began to run through the dark, damp tunnels, guided by her memory and her urgency. The echo of her footsteps resonated off the walls, but she only had one goal in mind: the lair. It didn't matter that it was 3 a.m., nothing mattered but seeing them safe.

Finally, she reached the lair. The sight of the messy place, with pizza boxes scattered about and the turtles sleeping in different positions, filled her with relief. Some slept on the floor, others on the old couch. Everything seemed peaceful, but her heart continued to pound, still frightened by the sight of her dream. The mess of the lair, with the pizza boxes scattered about and the distant echo of dripping water, didn't matter to her at all. All you wanted was to be close to them.