Chapter Text
“Wow, that was really amazing, Leo!” spoke a young voice near him.
“I know,” replied the one with the blue bandana, swaying gracefully. “I’m starting to think I was born for this.”
One step, then another… balance was questionable, but his ego kept him upright.
The pizza boxes stacked on his head felt heavier than usual, as if the universe were conspiring to challenge his glory. But nothing mattered more than the chance to rub it in Donnie’s face.
“I really can’t believe you’re trying this, Nardo,” said a familiar-looking turtle on the other side of the rope, his silhouette glowing slightly, as if he wasn’t entirely there.
“Statistically it’s impossible for you to beat my record,” he added, his voice clear… but distant, like an echo inside a nerdy bottle.
“Ha!” exclaimed Leo. “Beat your record? Donatello, please…” he took the last few steps, the world spinning like it had been animated by a 3D beginner, “witness greatness!”
“I can’t believe this,” said the one in purple, with a mix of surprise and something swinging between “wow?” and “what the hell am I watching?”
“Leo! Leo!” shouted the youngest, his voice sparkling like a hyperactive bell.
Leo, clearly his own biggest fan, joined the chant without hesitation. He looked to his twin for backup. The twin hesitated, raised an eyebrow… but eventually gave in.
“Leo! Leo!” the three shouted, overflowing with joy, chaos, and Saturday night energy.
“Guys!” a more real voice interrupted them. More… solid. As if it came with the weight of gravity included.
Leo turned, still smiling… and his heart skipped a beat.
“I can’t believe this, fearless.”
That tone. That word. Something in him froze.
“Is this how you spend your time?” he asked. He had Raph’s face, yes, but the voice sounded… like a held-back punch. Hurt. Out of sync with the technicolor world around him.
“He’s right,” began Donnie, his voice distorted like it came from an old cassette. “You’re supposed to be our leader. What are all these games?”
Leo looked at them with a raised brow and a smile that didn’t fully lift. “Games? This is precision training, coordination, and showmanship, thank you Tell–.”
“Donatello, Leonardo,” Donnie corrected, with no trace of humor. Oof. That was cold.
“This is really great…” said Raphael, though his expression looked like it had been dragged through Photoshop with the warp tool. “Just what we needed, another Mikey.”
Leo blinked. The Mikey in front of him looked younger. More... serious. And he didn’t speak. Just stared, like he was waiting for something to fall into place.
“Guys… what are you talking about?”
“Don’t try to change the subject, Mikey,” Donatello yelled, his voice filled with anger, like a pressure cooker ready to blow.
“Seriously… all you do is ruin everything,” added Raphael, looking at him with a sadness heavier than any of those pizza boxes.
“I didn’t…” Mikey stepped back, shrinking like the words physically hurt him.
Leo reacted immediately, as if something in him activated without permission. He stepped in front, firm, protective.
“That’s enough,” he said seriously.
“Leo?” Mikey asked, his eyes shining with something deeper than surprise. “Is it really you?”
Leo tensed. The air... was thick, like he was breathing it with a spoon. The scene trembled at the edges, as if someone had opened the wrong file in his mind.
“Who else would it be, Michael?” he replied with a lopsided smile, though his eyes weren’t so sure.
Mikey stepped forward… and hugged him.
In that moment, a soft, white, enveloping light descended over them. Warm, soothing. As if saying: this is real, this matters. Donatello and Raphael vanished without a sound, as if they’d never been there.
“But wha–?” Leo began, but was cut off by sobs.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” he asked, looking at Mikey, who was silently crying, clinging to him like the world would fall apart if he let go.
“I just… missed you so much,” he said, voice cracked.
“Don’t worry, little bro. If you keep that up, you’ll ruin your freckles,” Leo joked, gently patting his head.
Mikey paused, blinking.
“My what?” he asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Leo frowned. Something… didn’t fit.
Before he could answer, the world around him began to break. Like glass under the feet of an invisible giant.
And then he was alone.
Surrounded by a vast forest.
He looked around, confused, with a slight chill crawling down his shell. How had he even gotten here? And what was he doing before?
“Alright... whoever’s doing this, it’s not funny,” he muttered as he drew his katanas with a dramatic twirl. “And yes, I said that. Me.”
Laughter exploded in the air, intense, wild, engulfing. It sounded close and far at once, like it was coming from inside his head… and from behind every tree.
“Your mind really is a mess, huh?”
Leo squinted. “My mind? Chaotic, yes. But with style. Like a curiosity shop with free wifi.”
The voice laughed louder, with a tone almost childlike. Cruel.
“Maybe stepping out would help clear it up,” Leo said sarcastically. “Or… I don’t know, we could do a guided tour. ‘Welcome to Leonardo’s mental chaos, please don’t feed the memories.’”
“With you, it’s even easier,” added the voice, laughing harder.
Leo tensed but didn’t back down.
He just adjusted his katana grips, his expression serious… and ready.
A sharp pain hit him from behind, making him cry out in pain. The force of the blow sent him flying several meters from the enemy. When he looked up, Leo blinked, confused how he hadn’t noticed the giant beaver over him.
The other one started laughing at him, the mockery growing louder.
“You really don’t even know who you are, huh?”
“Ha! And do you?” Leo shot back from the ground.
The beaver just laughed as he kept hitting him over and over, laughing the whole time.
“Not really, but I don’t care,” he said, hurling the turtle straight into space.
Leo screamed, his body spinning among the stars. The beaver was getting closer and closer, ready to land a hard hit. Leo closed his eyes, bracing for impact.
Suddenly, music blared—his phone’s ringtone.
Both froze in the air, surprised.
“Well?” the beaver started, “aren’t you going to answer?”
Leo raised an eyebrow, picked up the phone, and put it to his ear.
“Hello?...”
“Leo! You have to wake up. Wake up!”
Leo frowned, not understanding.
“What are you talking about? I’m awake,” Leo started, “everything began when I was with the guys on the rooftop and now I’m fighting a giant beaver who–”
Leo stopped.
“Wait–” he didn’t get to finish the sentence, as the expected punch sent him flying straight into the sun.
He slammed into the pavement of a city, looked up, and saw many buildings that looked abandoned, with a sad aura all around. Something about this place felt like something was missing. Next to him were the others, all completely disoriented and dizzy.
“I think I’m dreaming,” said Donatello, looking around in awe.
“Then I must be dreaming you,” said Leo, lifting his head proudly.
“Where did all the candy go?” asked Michelangelo to the air.
Raphael looked around at them, confused.
“Guys, I think we’re all in the same dream.”
The four looked at each other, confused.
“Ha! The dream beavers have done it again!” said one of the creatures, laughing proudly.
“Did you just say dream beavers?” Donatello smirked, clearly amused by the ridiculous name.
A strange sound came from the beaver’s mouth, making the whole city start to shake. From the cracks forming in the ground, the dream beavers came out one by one.
The four beavers looked down at the four turtles, who were completely terrified.
“You thought this was a dream, but no, we—”
“Is that thing really talking?” asked Leo, staring at the creatures with an expression of absolute disgust. “Oh god. I think I’m gonna puke—”
“We,” continued the beaver, clearly offended by the interruption, “have inhabited the dream world all these years, and brought you here because we feed off human energy.”
“We’re not human!” shouted Michelangelo, frowning, confused by what he’d just heard.
“That’s why you’re more delicious,” replied another, licking his whiskers with a wet, disgusting sound.
“We’re gonna dry you up and then spit out your shells!” all of them exclaimed in unison, with such gleeful joy it sent chills.
The turtles shot through the air, screaming in horror, and landed in a strange place.
“This feels weird…” said Donatello, looking at his pixelated, flat hands. “It’s like we’re 2D.”
“I literally feel like I can fold like origami!” squealed Mikey, twisting his arm at an impossible angle.
Leo decided not to mention he felt weirdly comfortable in that form.
Michelangelo looked up at the sky.
“Guys?”
The beavers were right above them. They jumped and dragged the turtles with them to the other side, restoring textures and volume with a strange snap, like someone adjusting graphic settings.
The battle started immediately. Each turtle faced one beaver. Screams. Hits. Chaos everywhere.
One beaver laughed, looking straight at Leo.
“You’ll be delicious for sure.”
Leo tightened his grip on his swords, doing everything he could to keep those claws away from his face. The air was thick, heavy, like fighting inside a dream made movements slower… more deliberate.
If only…
...he could break this absurd logic.
A blue glow began to radiate from his skin. He flipped backward and tried something different.
The katana sliced the air and, in doing so, opened a blue portal, sparkling like wet neon light. He crossed it easily, appearing on the other side of the room.
“Whoa, dude,” said Michelangelo, watching. “Dream stuff is so cool! Let me try!”
Michelangelo closed his eyes and placed his fingers on his forehead, leaving himself totally exposed to the beaver he was fighting.
“Mikey, wait!” Leo shouted, running toward him.
But it was too late. The beavers were already dragging them somewhere else.
And this time, the ground felt like it was dissolving beneath their feet, like someone had flushed the dream down the drain.
They appeared somewhere else, and as they opened their eyes, they realized something terrifying: they couldn’t move their limbs.
They tried to speak, scream, move… but their bodies didn’t respond. They floated, paralyzed, like ragdolls trapped in a living nightmare.
Looking around, they saw fire crackling below them. A burning pit opened at their feet, and the beavers dragged them toward it with twisted smiles and drool dripping from their snouts.
The beavers laughed, licking their lips, ready to devour them.
Everyone started screaming in fear, their voices cracked and desperate. The tension was unbearable… until a bright light began to spread from the ground like a crack in the dream itself.
“It’s broken,” said one of the beavers, completely stunned.
One by one, the brothers opened their eyes… this time, for real.
And the first thing they saw was the familiar sight of the farmhouse.
They were safe.
“No!!” a strange voice cried out, full of horror.
“The Optraculum is broken… the beavers are free!” shouted a man, looking completely unhinged. His lab coat was torn, his hair wild, and his bulging eyes looked like they had seen a thousand nightmares.
“They’re free to destroy our world!”
“All is lost!” he shrieked, on the verge of collapse.
And as if the universe replied, a swirling vortex began spinning in one corner, like a storm made of pure energy. It sucked in air, furniture, even thoughts.
Bursts of laughter rose from the center, sharp and mocking.
Everyone jumped into battle mode, ready to fight. Swords, staffs, fists, and magic in position. Smoke rose, covering the entire room…
And when it cleared, silence fell completely.
The beavers were there.
Small, furry, with yellow fangs and chubby little paws. But in their eyes was the same twisted gleam from the dream.
Then, one spoke.
“What? Were you expecting Godzilla?” said one in a squeaky yet mocking voice. “It’s not size that matters, it’s the trauma.”
Another beaver hopped forward, wagging its flat tail proudly.
“We were giants in your mind… and that’s enough.”
The turtles stepped back a bit, not sure whether to laugh, punch, or scream.
“How are they still talking?” Leo muttered, gripping his swords.
“And why am I still scared?” added Donnie with a shiver.
The lead beaver climbed onto a fallen cushion and raised his little front paws, dramatically.
“Thanks to the Optraculum’s break, we are free! Not just free from dreams, free from your rules, your fears, your ridiculous physical dimensions!”
“But they’re so… tiny,” said Mikey, leaning toward one with a mix of tenderness and horror.
“And still more dangerous than your expired breakfast!” replied another with a maniacal giggle.
The crazed man—still unnamed, still without peace of mind—collapsed to his knees.
“Forty years. Forty years protecting the veil, feeding the Optraculum, seeing visions, talking to my furniture…”
He looked at the beavers, then the turtles, then the floor.
And stood up.
“This is too much for me. I’m gonna… I don’t know. Sell jewelry. Maybe open a donut shop.”
And without another word, he stumbled away, like his soul had been exorcised by pure absurdity.
The beavers, seeing no one attacking them, looked at each other.
“Well, that was fun. Time to go.”
One of them snapped his fingers (since when do they have fingers? thought Raph), and they all began to vanish into glowing smoke, like ashes dancing in the wind.
In the blink of an eye, not a hair, not a print, not even a beaver smell remained.
Just silence, the room in disarray… and the turtles, staring at each other, with the same thought hanging in the air:
What the hell just happened?