Chapter Text
The date was August 5th, 2044, and the world was ending.
Some people would say the world had ended 26 years ago, when the sky was still blue and the ground was green and covered in something soft called grass, and animals besides rats were still around and the buildings were standing tall and proud.
But to Casey Jones Junior (for short, anyways, his full name was long), that was simply when the Krang had invaded. His mom, Casey Senior, would always tell him stories of the previous world, and how she had been planning to conquer it via something called brownies and her scouts. But to Casey, or CJ as his family called him, they were just that; stories.
He had never seen what the surface looked like beyond old pictures and the few times he’d gone on missions topside. But the pictures looked nothing like the surface that CJ knew, where buildings were crumbling and half buried in the Earth, sticking out of the ground and laying on their sides like they were trying to get away from the Technodrome that loomed ever-presently on the horizon.
He has a fuzzy and fading memory of his Baba taking him topside when he was little, (well, littler, he was still little), once. He remembers being held protectively in big green hands that blocked out the cold and harsh winds of the surface, and a big spiky shell that took on the worst of the sand and dirt that the broken and barren surface threw at them, of warm green eyes that made CJ feel safe, and bright and brilliant streaks of red that brought a splash of color to the otherwise dull surface.
“One day, you’ll see what the world looked like before,” His Baba said, little CJ tucked away safely in his hands as they stood on top of a broken building that overlooked the broken city, “One day, when this is all over, you’ll know what the sun looks like, you’ll get to feel the warmth of its rays and see the blue of the skies and the white of the clouds. You’ll be able to hear the birds singing and see the flowers blooming in spring, and you’ll climb the buildings for fun instead of necessity.” CJ had looked up at her, and he saw the way his Baba had a spark in his eyes as she recalled what life was like before, before, before.
Before, when the world was still green and the trees weren’t dead, and they weren’t breathing in the Krang atmosphere, when the oceans and lakes hadn’t dried and they didn’t rely on underground springs and mystics that summoned from space and other worlds and the water filters that wheezed and sputtered and creaked and groaned for water.
Before, when his parents were still kids and his siblings were either toddlers or infants, and CJ hadn’t even been born yet.
Before August 5th, 2018, when the world hadn’t yet ended, according to everyone around him.
Before, before before before…
August 5th, 2018.
That was when the world had ended, according to his parents, according to his siblings, according to his uncles and aunts and his grandparents and all the other people who had been alive and lived through the Krang invading the planet.
But to CJ, the world that had supposedly ended… was still going. Because he was in it, and he was alive and living, and he made memories and laughed and loved and lost and cried and mourned in it.
Because CJ had been born and raised in a broken, dying world that refused to stop fighting. He’d been born in the middle of the battlefield, still and quiet in a way that was deafening and had made his moms wail and his dads roar in grief and had caused his grandpa to take this dying world by the throat and force it to give him back.
And once CJ had taken his first breath, he’d gained a fighting spirit and a determination that had rivaled his mom’s for as long as she had been alive.
Because Casey had been a warrior, a fighter through and through, and when she had gone out she’d taken half of the Technodrome itself with her.
It was this kind of ferocity, of determination and willpower that she had passed to her son, and he carried it with pride. Unfaltering, unwavering, he stood tall and charged into battle with a warcry that held all of the anger and grief and determination and ferocity that his mom had once held. It was a warcry that the Krang would not soon forget, and every time he held his head high and raised his hockey-saw, they were reminded of the day that Cassandra-motherfucking-Jones had single-handedly ripped open the Technodrome armed with nothing but her feral grin and the hockey-saw that her son wielded.
CJ was a fierce and determined fighter in a world that had long since given up, even if it hid behind a mask of hope and words that promised this would all be over soon as long as they kept fighting a war they didn’t truly think they could win.
CJ knew better.
He knew that behind the reassuring words and warm smiles that Leonardo-Sensei and Master Michelangelo and Professor Donatello and Commander O’Neil and Doctor Baxter and everyone else gave him, they had long since stopped believing they could truly save this world.
He knew they were just saying it to preserve his smile, the sparkle in his eyes and the overwhelming love in his heart he held for everyone around him.
He knew better.
Nobody talked about it, but he knew that before he had been born, they’d just been surviving. They hadn’t been fighting or living, they’d just been waking up and praying to the gods that had long since abandoned them that today wouldn’t be the day they died.
He knew that if he hadn’t been born, Grandpa Splinter would still be alive, and his family would be whole.
He knew this from the way they whispered around him when he walked by, how his dads would sometimes call him Little Hope, how sometimes he would catch his Tata looking at him like he was the only thing that made him get up in the morning and continue fighting when he thought CJ wasn’t looking, and how CJ was the only kid that had actually been born in the last three decades.
And he knew that despite all this, despite the fact this was all he knew, despite the fact he was fighting to go back to a world he never knew, he still donned his mask and raised his hockey-saw and charged into battle like it would be his last.
Because Casey Jones Junior was a soldier, he had been since the moment he was born on that bloody battlefield, so still and quiet despite the chaos and pain of the world around him.
And today, August 5th, 2044, the world was ending .
He knew this, because when he looked up that morning the sky was falling.
The Krang had finally had enough of them hiding underground and constantly moving and evading them, so they’d ripped the Earth open and brought the sky made of stone and dirt and stalactites plummeting down to the towns and camps below.
Their suits made of unforgiving metal and rending claws and haunting red eyes and chests that deceptively hid wriggling and writhing masses of pink flesh and sharp grinning teeth that never seemed to end cut through the sky like it was paper, their nightmarish and taunting laughs echoing through the caverns and tunnels, chasing the people that lived below that were staring up at the sky with horror and defeat and dread sinking into their bones.
His Pops had always described the stars as twinkling lights in the night sky, and when CJ looked up and saw thousands of red eyes staring back from the ruined and broken sky of Earth and stone, he wondered if the stars had always just been the Krang looking for their next prey.
August 5th, 2044.
That was when the sky had fallen, and CJ knew what it felt like for the world to end.
For his remaining family to fall left and right to the Krang, to feel their ninpo go out one after the other in bursts of pain like a chain of stars going supernova.
To watch as Baxter, the eldest of all his siblings, shot into the collapsing sky and held the Krangs' attention long enough for everyone to scramble to the surface and flee.
To watch as the Krang descended on the man that had held the Underground together after their Dad had passed, had held their family together after they lost countless members even when he was threatening to break apart at the seams, had lived through losing little siblings CJ never even got the chance to meet .
CJ watched as Baxter didn’t even flinch or hesitate when faced with thousands of red eyes that sought to devour him and everyone he was protecting whole, he watched as Baxter was consumed by those monsters that called themselves saviors, and he watched as hundreds of them fell broken and screaming as Baxter detonated.
Because if there was one thing Baxter Hamato Stockboy was good at, it was dragging his enemies down with him.
August 5th, 2044…
The day that CJ watched and felt as his remaining family fought and died to keep him alive, because he was Little Hope. He was the miracle that gave the Resistance a reason to do more than just survive, to actually fight and make a difference in a dying world.
The day that his Tata, his Sensei, lost control of the parasite in his brain, the deaths of their family members- new and old- weighing him down and making it harder and harder for him to keep control until he just couldn’t anymore.
The day that the world ended, and CJ could do nothing but watch .
CJ could only watch in helpless horror as his Sensei roared in rage and pain and agony and tore at any Krang that dared to show its face, tears pouring from his eyes in a never-ending waterfall as he took chunk after chunk of flesh of green-and-pink blood out of the Krang. As he nearly broke his jaw ripping through the metal suits that hid the Krang away behind countless red on red on red eyes-
But when his Mum, the Commander, and Metalhead, one of his two remaining siblings (because everyone else was gone they were dead dead dead and he had done nothing but watch-) had come charging in on the back of Mayhem and had gotten him close enough to touch, to wrap his arms around his Tata and plead for him to come back because they still needed him despite everything, CJ didn’t hesitate despite the terror in his veins.
But he wasn’t scared of his Sensei, because he could never be scared of him (the man who had held him when he cried and saved the best pieces of food for him and told him stories at night until he fell asleep). No, he was terrified that he would lose him, too.
And when those comforting arms wrapped around him, holding him close, and a snout was pressed into his hair and apologies and reassurances were murmured into his scalp, Casey allowed himself to hope, to think that everything would be okay, despite everything. Because his immovable Sensei was here, the man who led The Resistance and refused to waver and crack even after nearly a year under the Krang’s influence.
As long as Leonardo was here, everything would be okay.
And then April and Metalhead were yelling and CJ was being shoved to the ground as his Sensei took a hit that was supposed to take CJ’s head off, and he looked up in time to see Sensei roaring in pain as a Krang para-hound took a chunk out of his plastron and some of his shell.
He remembers watching as Sensei threw the para-hound off and stabbed it through the eye with a katana adorned with red and purple and blue and orange, as April and Metalhead rushed to cover them as Sensei grabbed CJ by the arm and started hauling them both away as more para-hounds descended on their position, Mayhem roaring as he charged the hounds.
He watched as April and Metalhead fought off what seemed like a horde of para-hounds so that CJ and Sensei could flee, yelling for them to meet up with Master Michelangelo further down.
He couldn’t do more than support his Sensei and keep him moving as April, Metalhead and Mayhem were swarmed and overrun by para-hounds, as he felt their ninpo go dark and quiet, like they’d never existed in the first place.
Like they had been ripped out of the space they occupied.
Sensei and student, father and son, stumbled through the battlefield, Leonardo gritting his teeth to stifle his noises of pain as he gripped his side in a way that surely hurt, CJ hauling his Sensei -his Tata- through the wreckage of their falling forces- because the helicarriers with civilians and armed soldiers alike aboard were being shot out of the sky one by one- as he tried to reach Lady Liberty through the sound of explosions and battlecries, where Master Michelangelo was holding his own.
He could see bright glowingburningsearing orange chains crest over the horizon, swirling up and around and through itself and anything foolish enough to get close, reaching up and gripping one of the Flyers to slam it viciously into the ground, presumably crushing whatever Krang was inside. CJ wasn’t close enough to see anything specific, but from experience he knew that Master Michelangelo fought without mercy.
Master Michelangelo was a hurricane, a tornado, a tsunami and a sandstorm all in one. CJ may not have ever seen or experienced those, but Professor Donatello had shown him enough footage of natural disasters that when CJ saw Master Michelangelo release all of his fury and anger and grief in battle, he couldn’t help but compare him to the terrifying footage of cities being swallowed and torn down by floods and winds going at 150 miles per hour, unrelenting and without mercy for whoever or whatever was unlucky enough to fall in its path.
CJ had never felt safer.
“Master Michelangelo!” He called out, uncaring if the Krang heard him, because he knew that as long as his Pops Master Michelangelo was around, nothing could hurt him.
He heard pained screams as some of the para-hounds rounded on him and lunged, aiming for Leonardo-Sensei, but CJ didn’t flinch or falter in his pace. He kept his eyes forward, jaw set and his boots kicking up dust and rocks as he kept Leonardo-Sensei moving, unbothered by the para-hounds aiming for their throats.
Golden chains of burningpainagonydetermination pierced through the skulls and hearts of the para-hounds, silencing their deceitful and pained cries quickly. CJ only spared them a brief thought of ‘rest well’, but even then he didn’t stop moving. Not now, not when destruction and grief nipped at his heels and threatened to trip him up if he even for a moment paused for a breath.
Warm golden chains ushered him and Leonardo-Sensei forward, brushing against them and soothing their aches and the cutting pain in their hearts, comforting them and giving them both the strength they needed to falter and stumble behind a pile of rocks, the fallen head of Lady Liberty casting a protective shadow over them as CJ carefully lowered Leonardo-Sensei down so he was resting against a slab of debris.
Leonardo-Sensei gently waved away CJ’s hovering hands with a weak smile when he tried to get a closer look at the gaping hole in his side, the both of them knowing that there was nothing CJ could do to help. Still, CJ frowned at him and gently peeled the slider’s fingers back to assess the damage for a moment, only allowing himself to pull away when he felt that comforting warmth at his back.
He turned and couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face when he was greeted with the sight of orange eyes that had stars for pupils and chains swimming in their sclerae, allowing himself to relax when Master Michelangelo placed a hand on his shoulder and lowered himself so he was hovering only a foot off the ground, giving him a better look at Leonardo-Sensei’s injury.
He pretended not to notice the way Master Michelangelo’s hands trembled, and the subtle way he leaned just a tiny bit on CJ to steady himself in the air.
“A para-hound got him when he was distracted, sir. Commander’s O’Neil and Metalhead gave us the opportunity we needed to catch up with you.”
Master Michelangelo closed his eyes for a moment as he took in the information, no doubt picking up on what was unspoken.
There was no need for CJ to say it, they had all felt the burning fires that had surrounded them go out one by one until there were only three out of the dozen or so that had been there just that morning.
They were the only ones left.
“Mikey,” Leonardo-Sensei murmured, drawing their attention to him as easily as he did a room full of yelling and angry and scared survivors, his voice firm and commanding in a way that demanded you listen, “I’m sorry.” He said, a quiet, defeated thing.
It was a tone CJ had never heard him take, and it momentarily stunned him enough that he didn’t even process that Leonardo-Sensei was apologizing to Master Michelangelo for something that wasn’t immediately obvious.
He heard Master Michelangelo take a sharp, quiet breath beside him, and he managed to turn his head to look up at the orange-colored turtle, and he got to see the way Master Michelangelo’s expression fell just the tiniest bit, in a way anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have noticed.
But this was the man who would summon insects and butterflies and deer and fluffy cats and dogs and all kinds of creatures and animals made of his orange essence to show CJ, despite the fact it only made his condition worse.
So CJ noticed, but he pretended not to.
There was a lot of things he pretended not to notice about his Pops.
“The Krang won,” Leonardo-Sensei continued, drawing CJ’s attention again, “The Resistance failed…” He laughed bitterly, leaning his head back against the concrete slab keeping him upright, wincing as he jostled his wound. Master Michelangelo frowned and reached forward, his hand starting to glow as he got ready to summon chains to stitch his brother back together.
Leonardo-Sensei hissed and shakily lifted his hand to rest on Master Michelangelo’s outstretched one, weakly shaking his head, “Don’t… Don’t bother, Mikey.” He wheezed, sounding pained and small, “You know that… that it’s not… going to matter…” Master Michelangelo’s frown deepened, and he and Leonardo-Sensei stared at each other for a long moment until eventually Master Michelangelo let the glow in his hand die down, but he didn’t pull it away, instead turning his hand to grip Leonardo-Sensei’s as he examined Leonardo-Sensei for any more injuries despite what he had said.
Leonardo-Sensei managed a weak smile, but it was gone in a moment when his expression hardened. “Mikey… we need… a gateway.”
CJ watched in confusion as Master Michelangelo’s face went through multiple emotions, going from shocked, sad, and then determined. Master Michelangelo gently squeezed Leonardo-Sensei’s hand, his voice soft and quiet when he spoke, “It’ll take everything I have.” He said softly, as if making sure Leonardo-Sensei knew what he was asking. Leonardo-Sensei’s expression didn’t change, but it did waver for a brief moment, “I know, but this is our last chance.” He said desperately, sadly, like he wished he could say anything else. His voice was stronger and steadier now, no longer slurring, like he was gathering his strength for something big, “It’s our only chance.”
Master Michelangelo closed his eyes, his jaw trembling for just a moment before he was releasing Leonardo Sensei’s hand and opening his eyes to give them both a warm smile, and then he was turning and lifting himself higher in the air to move to a more open spot. CJ was confused, he didn’t know what was happening or where Master Michelangelo was going, but he trusted his teachers, so he didn’t question it.
“CJ, listen.”
CJ turned his attention back to Leonardo-Sensei, blinking at the use of his nickname, “Yes, Leonardo-Sensei?” His Sensei chuckled weakly at the use of his title, shaking his head a little as he reached forward to take one of CJ’s hands, “Drop the title, CJ. It’s not needed anymore.” CJ furrowed his brow in confusion, but he did as his Tata said, “Alright, Tata.” His Tata smiled, reaching up to cup the back of CJ’s head for a moment, “I’m very proud of you, CJ. Now listen up; the Krang first came to our planet through a mystic doorway.”
His Tata reached into one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out a picture that CJ recognized instantly, even if he could only see the back of it. He watched as his Tata looked at it for a brief moment before he laid it face down on the ground between them, grabbing a small piece of lead from the rubble around them to quickly sketch out what was presumably a picture of The Key, which was confirmed when his Tata handed the photo to him, “The Key that opened the doorway looked like this.”
CJ examined the sketch of The Key for a moment, memorizing it so he wouldn’t forget before looking back up at his Tata, “Why is this important now?” He prodded, knowing his Tata wouldn’t be telling him this without a reason. His Tata glanced over at CJ’s Pops for a moment before he looked back at CJ, and CJ didn’t miss the sadness in his Tata’s eyes, “Because Mikey is about to send you to another timeline that’s set on the day that The Key was stolen.”
Hold up. What?
“What?” CJ asked, bewildered at the words that just came out of his Tata’s mouth, “He can do that? I thought the only person who could move through dimensions and time like that was-“ He was cut off by his Tata cupping the back of his head again, a determined expression on the slider’s face, “There isn’t enough time to explain everything, just promise me that you’ll find The Key, and stop The Krang, okay?”
CJ’s eyes widened at what was unsaid, and he felt tears well up in his eyes as he reached up and held his Tata’s wrist in a deathgrip, suddenly feeling his age and losing the composure of the soldier he was supposed to be, “You’re not- You’re not coming with me?” He whispered fearfully, his heart squeezing in sudden terror as he realized that both his Tata and his Pops had been saying goodbye this entire time.
His Sensei’s expression faltered, and for the briefest of moments CJ thought he saw regret in the slider’s red and blue eyes, but only for a moment, “Promise me, Casey Jones.” Leonardo said firmly, no longer just asking. No longer using CJ’s nickname. “But why not? Why aren’t you guys coming with me?” CJ asked, despite the tone Leonardo was using, because he didn’t see why they couldn’t come with him, he didn’t understand.
Leonardo closed his eyes for a brief moment, gritting his teeth in an emotion CJ didn’t recognize on his Sensei, “Say it, Casey.” CJ tightened his grip on Leonardo’s wrist, hardening his expression, because he wasn’t going to accept this. He couldn’t . Not after- “Tell me-!”
“CJ, please.”
CJ’s words died in his throat, his jaw gently clicking shut at the words uttered by the man in front of him.
Just two words, quiet and soft. Leonardo’s voice had cracked halfway through, and he sounded like he was holding back tears, and his tone was defeated and the sentence had wavered like a ripple in a lake.
But it got CJ’s attention all the same.
And he looked at his Sensei, truly looked at him for the first time since that morning when his family was still big enough that he couldn’t turn a corner without running into someone, when the sky had fallen and he’d caught the unblinking eyes of his Sensei as he stared in horror at the nightmare coming to meet them.
He looked, and he realized how his Sensei seemed to look so… small.
Leonardo looked like he was barely a year older than CJ, curled in on himself like he was on that cold slab of concrete, head tilted down and eyes closed and jaw trembling. His brow was pinched, and he was gritting his teeth, and he couldn’t look CJ in the eye.
For a brief moment, CJ didn’t see the Immovable Dragon of The Resistance, the man who led his troops into battle as the first person to trade blows with The Krang every fight without fail. He didn’t see the man who had spent an entire year trapped under the influence of The Krang and came out the other side with his mind intact where others had broken after just a few days.
He didn’t see the man who had refused to give up in the face of death, who had kept fighting despite everything this broken and dying world threw at him, who fought tooth and nail to keep who he had and wept for those he lost but kept going in spite of it.
No, he didn’t see the man who had raised him.
He saw the kid in the photo clutched firmly yet oh-so-delicately in his hand, with a grin that reached his eyes and a clear love for the people around him, unscarred by a world that didn’t yet want him dead.
In front of him sat that same kid, broken and scarred and sad and so, so tired.
And he swallowed thickly, nodded his head, and said, “Find The Key, stop The Krang.”
Leonardo looked at him, and CJ saw the unspeakable grief in his eyes when he whispered, “Be brave, Little Hope.”
CJ tilted his head and leaned into his Tata’s metallic palm, the surface warm and loving despite its nature, and nodded despite the tears in his eyes, “I promise, Tata.”
His Tata smiled at him, a warm, real smile, however small it was.
And CJ knew, right then, that he didn’t want to say goodbye.
But his Pops was suddenly screaming like he was being ripped apart and when CJ looked to see what was wrong his Pops was flaking apart he was cracking at the seams he was disintegrating into nothing and his Tata was on his feet yelling and CJ saw para-hounds pouring in on all sides with The Krang in their horrid nightmarish suits looming over the debris casting a sickening red glow over them and they were fighting and yelling and CJ managed to look back at his Pops again and he could swear he saw the family they’d lost and
his eyes were snapping open and he was sitting up with a ragged gasp, disoriented by the abrupt change in surroundings and awareness. Too late, he realized his weight was uneven, and he teetered dangerously on the bed he was apparently sitting on, his remaining arm pinwheeling as he tried to regain his balance.
There was a gasp and a whoosh of air and the flutter of cloth, and right as he was tipping over the side warm arms wrapped around his torso and held him up. He let out a quiet ‘oof’ when his cheek met with something solid and warm, and he blinked in surprise.
“CJ?”
He tilted his head back, and was shocked to see that his Pops was looking down at him with mild concern and a little bit of amusement.
CJ stared at his Pops for a long moment, much to his growing amusement, and then the memories of the past few hours were flooding back and he was wrapping his arm around him in a fierce hug and smushing his face into his plastron because oh god.
His Pops was knocked back a bit in the air from the sudden movement, but he quickly recovered and gripped CJ tightly in a warm, comforting hug that brought CJ to tears all over again. “Oof- Heh, I’m glad to see you too CJ.” His Pops chuckled, cupping the back of his head and pressing his snout into his hair in greeting, a rumble building in his chest that CJ returned.
And then he was pulling away from the hug and punching his Pops’ arm, not enough to do any damage but enough it got his message across, evidently enough from his Pops’ startled yelp. “Don’t do that!” He snarled, glaring at his Pops, who was wincing and rubbing his arm.
“I thought you were dead! Again!” He hissed, and he had to wipe at his eyes to keep his tears from falling because god today had probably been the most distressing and devastating day of his life and it had only been five hours.
His Pops winced again and looked away, still rubbing at his arm and opening his mouth to say something but CJ didn’t let him get a word in, barreling forward because how dare he. How dare he do this to him again .
“You can’t just- You can’t keep- Augh!” He cried out, ducking his head and pulling angrily at his hair, fighting back tears, “You always do this! I’m sick of it!” And he really was. His Pops had nearly died countless times before now, and each time was more harrowing than the last because what if they really lost him this time? What if he didn’t bounce back like he always seemed to?
His Pops wasn’t invincible, no matter how much they all wished he was.
Because Michelangelo was dying.
He was dying and he took that as an invitation to throw himself in front of every attack that was thrown at CJ or his Tata or anyone else in their family because it didn’t matter if it was him, if it was Michelangelo. To his Pops, it didn’t matter if he was the one getting hurt because he was going to die anyways, so it was okay. It was better this way.
And he never stopped for a moment to think of the effect his actions would have on his family.
But CJ couldn’t word any of this, too overwhelmed by his emotions to do more than curl in on himself.
If his Pops was doing anything, CJ couldn’t hear it. Because he needed to calm down. He needed to stop before he said something he’d regret because you never wanna say something you regret in the apocalypse, because it could be the last thing you say to them. It could be the other person’s last memory of you, they could die thinking you really meant what you said.
And that would be awful to live with.
And CJ would know.
So he curled in on himself and tried to focus on his breathing, tapping out a familiar rhythm on his scalp in an effort to chase the tears away and calm his racing heart and smooth out the tightness in his chest.
He didn’t know how long it was until he felt the bed underneath him dip at the edge, signaling someone had sat down but wasn’t touching. There was a pause before he felt someone tapping the mattress in a familiar beat and rhythm, and it took him a moment of listening to place it.
‘CJ okay?’
Morse. Hah.
He sniffled, wiping at his eyes again and nodding. It took him another moment for him to cautiously lift his head, and he was greeted with the sight of his Tata peering at him worriedly from the edge of the bed, head tilted in a way that reminded CJ of cold nights that felt like they were impossible to come back from that his Tata would chase away.
His Tata gave him a small smile, eyes soft and patient in a way CJ could never understand, “You back with us, CJ?” He asked, in that familiar way that made CJ wish for simpler times, when he was small and the world wasn’t so scary as long as his family was around because his family was his world.
But he was bigger now, and his world was smaller.
So he wordlessly shuffled on the bed until he was pressed against his Tata’s side, trying to make himself as small as possible as he clung on to the scarf his Tata always seemed to wear.
He heard a quiet shift somewhere to his left, and he released his Tata’s scarf and turned just enough he could reach out and pull his stupid Pops into the hug. His Pops yelped in surprise, but quickly settled into the hug and wrapped his arms around the two of them and pressed his snout into CJ’s hair again.
It didn’t take very long before someone else was settling on the side opposite of his Tata, pressing against CJ’s back and wrapping their arms around all three of them, a deep rumble in their chest immediately giving away who they were and making CJ laugh hoarsely as he felt himself relax.
“Hey, Dad.” He whispered, the rumble deepening in response as a way of saying hellolittleoneiseeyouandyouareloved. His dad was better at expressing himself through noise rather than words, so it didn’t bother CJ. In fact, he welcomed it.
It didn’t take very long for Shelldon to join them, clambering up onto the bed and worming his way between the various turtles to press himself firmly onto CJ’s chest. He didn’t latch on, didn’t compress and take the form of armor like he normally did, he just… held him.
And it was enough.
There was so much that CJ wanted to say, wanted to tell all of them and make sure they knew, but he didn’t have the words. So this… this was enough.
And that’s all it needed to be, really.
“Sooo… what are we supposed to do with this?”
April held up The Key, looking to the group of time travelers for answers. Cyonardo shifted uncomfortably, tearing his eyes away from The Key to look at Mi- Cykey, who was studying The Key with a frown. After a moment, his pupils took on an unnatural glow and he took a step closer, tilting his head curiously, “That’s weird.” He commented, but didn’t elaborate.
Instead, he wordlessly held out his hand to take it, and April handed it over with nothing more than a furrowed brow.
He hummed, turning The Key over in his palms, looking for something that the others couldn’t see. Well, Cyonardo and Cydon could technically see it, but Cyo wasn’t able to make sense of it, and CJ didn’t have his mask down so he couldn’t see it even if he’d been able to understand it. Shelldon could probably see it, but he was in armor mode at the moment.
Cyo could take a wild guess at what Cykey meant, though.
Cykey turned to them, blinking to clear away the glow in his eyes as he offered up The Key for Cydon to take, “Don, look at this. The signature is different.” Cydon hummed in agreement, his antennae twitching periodically as he looked The Key over, CJ standing up on his tip-toes to peer at it curiously, “Yeah, I see it. It’s not the same as ours, which is going to make things difficult.” He sighed, and Cyo grimaced as his fear was confirmed.
“Wait, what do you mean it’s not the same as yours?” Little Leo spoke up from where he was leaning against his katana, giving the four of them an incredulous look, “You guys are from the future, right? How is something different?” Cyo resisted the urge to snort.
Instead, the four of them shared a look, not even needing to mind meld to get across their meaning.
After a moment, Cykey turned to look at Little Leo with a grimace, “Well, we’re only technically from the future, yes. In reality, we’re from a different timeline altogether.” Cyo watched in fond amusement as Bitty Dee’s eyebrows shot up, while Little Leo just looked confused, “I don’t get it, what’s the difference?”
Cydon was the one to answer, beating Bitty Dee to the punch, “The difference, Little Leo-” Little Leo’s face scrunched comically at the nickname, “-is that, to put it simply, time travel isn’t possible.”
Little Leo spluttered, eyes wide as he gestured comically at them, “Yes?? It is??? You’re right there????”
Cyo couldn’t stop himself from snorting in amusement because yeah, that’s such a him thing to say. “Yeah, I didn’t get it at first either.” The look Little Leo shot him for that was iconic.
Cykey stepped- well, glided- forward with his hands raised placatingly, “Look, K- we tried changing our past before. It… It didn’t go well.” He wrung his hands together, a habit Cyo recognized that made dread pool in his stomach. He sighed, placing a hand on Cykey’s shoulder reassuringly as he addressed Little Leo with a sigh, “Look, all you need to know is that you can’t change a past that’s already happened. At least, not without making things worse.” His right eye twitched, as if for emphasis, and he watched as Little Leo’s eyes immediately tracked the movement with something akin to dread.
“So, we hopped timelines.” Cydon continued, picking up where his brothers could not, “Things that happened to you might not have happened to us, and there’s every possibility the things that happened to us won’t happen to you. Which, apparently, also means that our ancient histories are different.” He sighed, rubbing at his temple, “For example, our version of The Key had six energy signatures attached to it, which means six ancient warriors created it. But yours…” He paused, his hand tightening around The Key, “Yours has four.”
Cyo inhaled sharply, and he heard CJ make a wounded noise he quickly muffled.
Cydon didn’t leave much time for that to hang in the air, however, and continued forwards, “We can destroy The Key, yes, but I’d rather save that until we’re absolutely sure that we have no other option. If we destroy it, then there’s no way to send The Krang back to the prison dimension if it turns out we can’t kill them. We’ve killed Krang before, yes, but not the main three. But… if we do that, there’s also a chance they’ll get their hands on it again, which is going to make things a lot worse.”
Splinter stepped forward, which made Cydon’s jaw click shut because it didn’t matter how long they’d gone without him, he was still their Pops. “What happens if they get The Key again?” He questioned gently, and Cydon swallowed and looked away, and Cyo felt similarly.
Had their Pops always been so… small? Or had they just gotten bigger?
He’d always seemed larger than life, and now…
Now Cyo could probably pick him up with one arm and hold him there comfortably.
There was an uncomfortable pause as nobody said anything, and then CJ was speaking up from where he was standing next to Cydon, “If The Krang get their hands on The Key again, then they’ll rip open the sky and bring in their ship; The Technodrome. If they do that, then…” He swallowed, clearly remembering what the ruined sky of their world looked like, “Then winning is going to be a lot harder.”
The younger versions of their family was silent, taking in this new information.
“So what’s the plan?”
Cyo flinched and looked up in surprise at Little Raph, having forgotten that sh- he was there. He could tell that Cykey and Cydon had reacted similarly, and it took Cyo a moment to gather himself and respond, “We store it. M- Cykey has a pocket dimension we can use to store The Key so The Krang can’t get to it. We can’t destroy it, not yet, so this is the next best thing.” Cykey looked up and nodded, and Cydon passed him The Key wordlessly.
“As for a plan of attack, in our timeline The Krang went for the tallest building in the city to open the portal for their Technodrome. And even though they don’t have The Key, that won’t matter to them. They can still infect and take over the One World Trade Center thanks to Krang Subprime, so-” He was cut off by Bitty Dee saying ‘cough’ to get his attention, and he paused to let him speak.
“I'm sorry, but that’s not correct. The tallest building in the city is Metro Tower, not the One World Trade Center.”
Cyo blinked slowly, his brow twitching.
“What.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cydon’s expression slowly morph into horror, “Oh god, wait- Bitty Me, show me your map of the city.” He said quickly, hurrying over to Bitty Dee, who was already pulling up said map. “Don’t call me that, but sure.” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Cydon was touching the holographic map that pulled up over Donnie’s wrist and copying the info into his own database.
In seconds, Cyo received a ping in his eye and he was lifting his right arm, a hologram of the two different cities materializing into existence above it.
“Oh, shit.” Cyo hissed immediately, CJ making a strangled noise next to him. “Our cities are different. Look.” He pointed to a spot on the new map, where a part of New York was missing compared to the older one. “This part of New York is underwater, and this bridge doesn’t exist in our timeline. And these-” He pointed to a cluster of skyscrapers and tall buildings in the middle of New York, where Metro Tower was, “-never existed.”
He groaned, rubbing between his eyes in annoyance, “We are so lucky the Lair is still under Hell’s Kitchen here, or CJ might not have been able to warn you guys in time.” He dragged his hand down his face, glaring at the map, “As it is, we’re not familiar with the layout of this New York. You guys-” He gestured at the younger version of himself and his family, “-are going to have to tell us the best way to get into Metro Tower unnoticed.”
Little Leo smirked, and Cyo immediately regretted giving them the reins for this mission, “Easy, we use the subway tunnels; There’s a station in the tower, it gives us a direct shot into the building.”
“And if we need a quick escape?” Cyo countered, stopping Little Leo short, “Stations are few and far between, if The Krang have infected the tunnels by the time we get there- and they likely will- then we’re trapped.” Little Leo scoffed, waving his hand dismissively, “Eh, it’s just three of them. Compared to all eleven of us, we got this, easy peasy.”
Cyo growled lowly, opening his mouth to snap at Little Leo for his blatant disregard-
He stopped, closing his mouth as something clicked in his head. “You… don’t understand what we’re up against.” He realized, because of course he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t have ever fought an enemy like this, there’s no reason for Little Leo- or any of them- to know what The Krang were truly capable of.
“Leo, The Krang can infect things.” He said slowly, trying to get them to understand, “It doesn’t matter if it’s organic or not; cars, helicopters, trains, buildings- even people aren’t safe. Whatever they’ve infected, they have full control over.” The color in Little Leo’s face drained, and Cyo couldn’t help but feel guilty as the others didn’t fare any better, “And the kicker? They don’t need to have infected anything else to infect you.” His eye twitched again, and the dormant infection behind his eye itched in a sick reminder.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to steady himself. He felt CJ place a hand on his arm, and he placed his hand over CJ’s for reassurance. “So, no. We’re not going to use the subway tunnels.” He said, as evenly as he could, “We can’t go above ground either, we’ll be easy targets up there. The Krang are going to have eyes everywhere, we won’t get very far before they see us. So our best bet is the sewers. There’s multiple exit points, and even though this is a different city, we know the sewers better than they do.”
Cyo looked over to Cydon, who stood up straighter under his gaze, “Don, is the tracker on CJ’s weapon still active?” Cydon paused, his antennae twitching up as he checked for the tracker. It took barely a few seconds for him to respond, “Affirmative. They are indeed heading towards Metro Tower. They’ve just passed Kips Bay.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Cydon stiffened moments before there was the distant sound of rapid gunfire deeper in the tunnels and the proximity breach alarm went off, painting the Lair in a sickening red.
“Everybody move!” Cyo yelled over the sound of the alarm, startling the past versions of his family into action as he drew his katana. “Cykey, get The Key in your pocket dimension, now! CJ, you’re guiding the others to Metro Tower and protecting them from The Krang. Cydon, protect Cykey until The Key is secured and then meet up with CJ’s team! I’m gonna buy you guys some time to get out of here. Now go!” Cydon looked like he was about to protest, but Cyo beat him to it, “There’s no time for a better plan, go!”
He didn’t wait around to see his response, already sprinting deeper into the Lair to meet The Krang, ignoring Cydon’s frustrated yell behind him.
His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn’t let the fear in his veins slow him down.
He had a job to do.
It felt like hours and no time at all before he was rounding a corner to see the Sister Krang and a horde of para-hounds flooding into the tunnel further down, and he snarled and dropped into a battle stance, katana at the ready.
The Sister Krang grinned viciously, splitting her face in two and showing off her mouth full of sharp teeth.
The infection behind his eye itched.
“Well well, looks like we have a welcoming committee.” She purred, and Cyonardo glared at her and snarled, “The only thing I’ll be welcoming you to is Hell.”
And then he was shooting forward, the itching growing into a steady burn that he ignored as he swung his katana in an arc, his face twisted in a snarl. The Sister Krang met his attack with her own sharpened appendage, her vicious grin ever-present. A horrible laugh spilled from her lips, and Cyonardo roared and let her push him back, landing on his toes and dodging the para-hound that had been aiming for him.
The Sister Krang continued to laugh, and Cyonardo wanted to rip her throat out.
He ducked and dodged another para-hound, lifting his right arm to block the bite of another and throwing it into a para-hound that had gone for his side, knocking them both back with pained yelps. He danced back on his toes, dodging and weaving the bites and swipes of various para-hounds.
His skull was burning.
He raised his katana and glanced off a blow from the Sister Krang, ducking underneath it to try and slice at her eyes.
Something wrapped around his ankle and pulled, slamming him into the far wall of the subway with a yell. He didn’t have a chance to recover before the Sister Krang was grabbing him by the throat and slamming him back into the wall, his head flying back and hitting the wall so hard his vision blurred.
“Just give in!” She laughed, squeezing and making him choke as he clawed at the writhing, slimy appendage crushing his esophagus. He wheezed and tried to kick at her, but she had him pinned and she was too far away to do any damage.
The infection was screaming, contradicting itself as it yelled at him to fight back but snarled at him to stay down. This was one of the Original’s, he needed to obey. Stop fighting, let her take control. It was trying to suffocate him, push him down until he broke.
He didn’t remember it being this hard to fight The Krang’s influence off, but it was hard to think through the fog enveloping his mind.
There was a noise at the end of the hallway, and then the Sister Krang was screaming and he was dropping to the floor with a gasp. He blinked rapidly as he pushed himself up, trying to make sense of what he was seeing as he grabbed hold of his katana hilt that he must’ve dropped.
There were flashes of blue darting around, and he caught glimpses of a familiar blue mask tails disappearing into portals that opened and swallowed howling para-hounds. He barely managed to keep track of the blur of blue as he stumbled to his feet, the fog in his brain lessened somewhat but still muddling everything.
A flash of blue in front of him and suddenly someone was supporting his weight, holding him up and talking to him rapidly, “Come on, come on, we gotta go, Big Me-”
Wait.
“Little Leo, you have to go.” He slurred, trying to push his younger self forward to try and get him to run, to flee and catch up with the others. Little Leo shook his head, blue flashing behind around them in patterns that Cyo couldn’t understand, “Not without you, big man. Now come on, she’s not going to be down for very-”
There was a flash of pink in the corner of Cyo’s vision, and he pushed Little Leo down and twisted, swinging his katana up to meet the blow just in time. The Sister Krang snarled at him, her grin wiped from her face and it took Cyo a moment to realize why.
Her right eye had been gouged out, a ragged chunk of flesh missing from the side of her face where her eye should’ve been, oozing pink and green blood that dripped down and stained her teeth. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me!” She howled, and Cyo was too disoriented to push her back this time.
Little Leo let out a terrified yell as Cyo crashed to the ground, hitting the bricks and metal below, causing blinding pain to shoot up his spine when the rails underneath them dug into the brand carved into his shell. He blacked out briefly from the pain, and the next thing he knows he’s watching as the Sister Krang holds up Little Leo’s limp body and slams him shell first into the wall with a sickening crack.
No.
No no no no no.
He tried to get up, tried pushing himself to his feet to fight off the Sister Krang, to keep her away from the little one. The infection in his skull was screaming at him to get up, to do something.
But the darkness at the edge of his vision was quickly dragging him into the unforgiving depths of unconsciousness, and he couldn’t do more than watch as the Sister Krang laughed over Little Leo’s limp body as he lost the fight against the darkness.