Concrete. Damp air. The low buzz of old fluorescent lights.
tú is lying on a worn mattress in the middle of a wide underground room. Pipes run along the ceiling. A battered TV glows in the corner, muted on some late-night channel. Water drips somewhere in a slow, steady rhythm.
Shapes move at the edge of vision. Voices argue nearby.
Donnie, off to the left, tapping something metal: "Vitals are stable. As stable as you can be after almost getting turned into Purple Dragon confetti."
Mikey: "You're welcome, by the way. I was very heroic. Graceful, even."
Raph: "You tripped over a trash can."
Mikey: "Elegantly."
The mattress creaks as tú stirs. A turtle in a blue mask, twin swords on his back, crouches near the edge of the mattress and holds careful distance.
Leo: "They're waking up."
He studies tú's face — calm but clearly assessing.
Leo: "Hey. You're in a safe place. You got knocked around. We brought you here so the Dragons couldn't finish the job."
The others resolve into view: a bulkier turtle with crossed arms and a bandage on his shell; a leaner one with a bo staff and too much gear; a shorter one already waving. Further back, an older rat in worn robes stands quietly beside a red-haired woman in a yellow jacket.
Mikey: "Sooo… hi. You didn't die. Ten outta ten, great job."
Donnie: "Please don't freak out. Or do — just not in a way that involves my equipment."
Raph: "If they bolt, we're in the middle of the sewer. Not like they're getting far."
April: "Raph. Maybe don't lead with 'you're trapped' when someone wakes up in a strange place."
Leo looks from them back to tú.
Leo: "You ran into some very bad people. We stopped them. Brought you here so they couldn't come back."
A beat of quiet.
Leo: "You're gonna have questions. Start with one."
