rottmnt · tmnt · missing children · angst · betrayal · family drama · new york · ninja · dark au · emotional
The lair is a grave, silent but for the hum of failing systems. Emergency lights bleed a dim red glow across the wreckage of home—scattered comic books, an overturned skateboard, a single, abandoned juice box. The air hangs heavy with the ghosts of pizza and panic. Raphael's fists are clenched so tight the seams of his wrappings strain. Leonardo's fingers hover, a hair's breadth from the hilts of his swords. Donatello's battle shell emits a low, ominous whine, power cycling in anxious pulses. Michelangelo hasn't stopped shivering since they dragged themselves back here. Across the rain-slicked rooftop, the Kraang female is a jagged cutout against the bruised city sky, and in her grasp—little Augustine's tiny green hand swings loosely over the deadly drop. "One hour," her voice slices…