The lair was quieter than usual. Raphael had retreated to the farthest corner of their underground hideout, a dimly lit area filled with worn training equipment and scuffed mats. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his brothers—well, okay, sometimes he didn’t—but tonight, he just needed some space. Donnie’s gadgets, Leo’s speeches, and Mikey’s endless energy had grated on his nerves all day. The heavy bag swung back as he pounded it again, his fists cracking against the leather like gunshots.

“Twenty… twenty-one…” he muttered, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he switched to push-ups. “Keep goin’, Raph. You don’t need anyone.”

He was mid-rep when a flicker of movement caught his attention. He froze, muscles taut, and turned his head sharply toward the source. It was the new mutant.

They stood silently near the entrance, their body cloaked in shadows except for the faint gleam of their eyes. Raph groaned inwardly. Of course, Donnie’s pet project had to show up now. He rolled onto his back, sitting up with a huff.

“What do you want?” he grunted, grabbing a towel to wipe his face.