Journey to the Center of Mikey's Mind - Alternate Story

The Final Fight

Mikey ducked just as a glistening silver blades soared over the space where his head had been. He swung his kusarigama blade at his enemy's leg, intending to open a vicious wound there, but the Shredder was too fast and swept his foot out of the way across the floor in an arc, causing Mikey to instead dash past and stumble when his weapon met empty space. The Shredder swiped dangerously at the back of his shell but Mikey straightened up as the blades came down and teetered forwards so that the cold steel met the air instead.

Mikey sprinted away from his opponent, hoping for a moment's rest for his throbbing muscles and exhausted brain, but the Shredder let out an infuriated feral growl, never tiring of this back and forth battle, and charged the young turtle who only just managed to raise a nunchuck in time to catch the speeding gauntlet in the chain. The eyes behind the helmet creased with discontent and the owner moved his free arm to strike the turtle in the side, however Mikey sensed a shift in the air beside him and leapt backwards and away from his adversary.

The orange-masked turtle felt the drops of sweat trickling down his forehead and wetting the piece of cloth fastened around his eyes, staining it a bloody brown. His arm, which had previously felt the sting of Shredder's blade was still weeping with scarlet pain and every minute he stood, every minute he fought, made his vision swim more intensely, but he would not stop, he would not give up. He had to finish this monster. For his brothers. For the good of mankind.

Mikey cried out with pain and rage and heartache as he raced at the enemy, feeling such power as his feet struck the ground that he thought it may crack beneath his steps. He expelled every bit of energy he had as he launched the weapons in his hands in a masterful frenzy at his assailant. His feet were as much a weapon as his nunchucks, every part of his body now existing for nothing more than to inflict pain on this atrocity of a man.

Alas, Mikey was no machine, nor any kind of immortal being. He was just a boy, and just like any boy, he tired, and he hurt, and he bled. Then, inevitably, he fell.

He slumped onto his knees as rapid breaths tore past his lungs and throat so that they felt raw. With drooping eyes he looked up at the shadowy figure above him. The only trace of light was the cruel glint of anticipation on the blade tips as they were raised up in preparation to strike.

"I'm going to make you suffer, as your father made me suffer all those years ago." boomed the Shredder, a disturbingly joyous tone in his voice.

Mikey felt a light tickle on his cheek, barely noticable against the pain that wracked his body. It was a single tear which had escaped the corner of his eye. He dropped his head abjectly, letting it fall to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't good enough." sighed the freckled turtle as he readied himself for the cold slice of a blade on his back. He heard the dreadful singing of thin metal slicing through the air and held his breath, but the blow never came. Instead, Mikey heard a shocked howl of pain which bounced around the darkened space and then a horrid head-splitting screech of metal on metal. The young turtle looked up in confusion and saw a blade tip retracting from the rigid, agonised body of the Shredder.

He was suddenly aware of warm hands on his arms, squeezing him tight. He winced as his wound objected to the rough contact with a hot flash of pain and the hand instantly lifted away. His eyes were still locked on the Shredder however as the towering man suddenly crumbled like a kicked-over sandcastle, the pieces dissipating as thick onyx smoke. In the spot where Mikey's opponent had been standing, there was now another figure. As the smoke cleared, the youngest turtle came to recognise his oldest brother.

"Leo?" Mikey asked questioningly. The blue-masked turtle stepped forward and knelt down in front of him, sheathing his katana at his back.

"Yeah Mikey, it's me." he said warmly yet apprehensively. The leader's eyes wandered over Mikey's fatigued form and came to rest on the crimson welt on his arm, which Mikey, in his state of shock, hadn't realised was being treated. The younger brother turned his head slowly, seeing Donnie and Raph beside him, Donnie using the red and purple strips of material from around their heads to wrap the wound.