When The World Ends

Phoenix

First thing that morning, Raphael says, "Today, we don't stop."

It isn't said with menace. It's not a threat or even a challenge. It's a promise. Jade feels it settle into her bones like prophecy.

Training starts before the sun's fully risen, the air still sharp with early chill. Her boots hit the concrete then the matts, heart steady, muscles warm. Bruises have faded. Scabs peeled. Every part of her now screams strength. She isn't healed—she's transformed.

The training lights flicker on.

Someone is already there.

An older man leans against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Trim beard, silver in his dark hair, not bulky but tightly built like coiled wire. Jade's never seen him before—but the way the brothers straighten, she knows this is someone important.

She doesn't ask who he is. That in itself is part of the test.

They don't stop.

Raphael lunges first. Blunt and brutal, just like always. She ducks the first swing and leaps up, kneeing him in the side. He grunts but doesn't falter. Mickey comes from the left, grin flashing, and she rolls backward just before his foot cracks into the wall behind her. The force rattles the frame.

Donatello is surgical. His strike nearly crushes her windpipe. She blocks it with her forearm, pain zinging up her elbow. Leo waits. Watches. Times it.

When he joins, it becomes war.

They don't hold back.

Jade doesn't win.

But she doesn't lose.

She dodges. Strikes. Weaves. Her fingers are bloody. Her ribs scream. She catches Mickey in the face—his nose cracks sideways and he laughs, calls her Ghost. She slices Leo's arm with a blade she stole mid-fight. Donatello finally pins her, knee digging into her spine.

But she almost reverses it. Almost.

The man watching says nothing.

The next few days are a blur. No one says it outright, but Jade knows this is the final leg of something. A line she has to cross, alone.

Leo no longer cleans her wounds. She does it herself. Quiet, focused. Her hands shake a little less each time.

Mickey calls her Ghost now with something close to fondness. "Cuz you slip through shit. Hard to kill."

Donatello hands her access to the weapons cache like it's no big deal. She's earned it, apparently.

Raphael still hits the hardest, but now he nods when she doesn't flinch.

Even in the middle of fights, jokes fly.

"Jesus, Jade, warn a guy before you mount his face."

"Shut up, Mickey, your head's in the way."

"Not the first time I've heard that."

Donatello, dry as ever, adds, "Focus."

They all laugh.

She finds herself laughing too.

Some days, they train shirtless. Sweat-slicked muscles and old scars. She sees all of them now—the lives they've led carved into their skin. They see hers too. The raised lines. The bruises turned to memory. They never ask about the past. It's not needed.

They joke about her flexibility.

"Pretty sure your legs shouldn't bend that way."

"Says the guy who pulled his hamstring last week."

"Technicality."

They make space for her without fanfare. She eats with them. Sleeps (lightly) in a cot in the corner. Wears real clothes now—a tank top, jeans, sometimes just a sports bra. She looks in the mirror once and sees someone else.

Someone forged in fire.

One morning, Amiel steps forward. Jade knows his name now. Leader. Ghost-maker. The one who decides who lives and dies in this place.

"Today is your final test," he says. "Win, and you move forward. You earn more. A role. A place. Freedom. Lose—and you stay in the cell."

She nods. She doesn't hesitate.

He doesn't explain the rules because there aren't any.

They all face her. Raphael. Donatello. Mickey. Leo.

Jade breathes in. Out.

She's not scared.

She's not the same girl who begged for food. Who whispered "okay" in the dark just to keep breathing.

She has a new family now.

They made her bleed. Now they make her strong.

Her knuckles are taped. Her eyes are fire.

Leo gives her a look, something between a grin and pride. Mickey blows her a kiss. Donatello tightens the strap on her wrist guard.

Raphael just says: "Come on, Ghost. Let's see what you've got."

It's not fair. It's not supposed to be. They all smile and circle her. Amiel move to watch from the doorway, arms still crossed.

Amiel speaks. "She's ready."

Jade thinks for a second on if this is what she really wants, really needs but then realizes. It's been 2 and a half months.

No one came for her and as much as it hurt her, as much at it killed her inside. Insanity that filled her months ago with endless escape attempts, is now replaced with hope because even though no one looked for her she is still alive. The hardest thing to accept was that she isn't alone now.

She has them.

Family forged in pain. In sweat. In battle.

A phoenix doesn't rise. It fights.

Jade steps into the ring, fists up, eyes burning.

"Let's go."