"Lord Li Xuan has assigned each of us different tasks… but every one of them involves fighting."Master Splinter stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture calm yet authoritative. His gaze swept across the four turtles in front of him, as if weighing not just their strength, but the resolve behind it.
One by one, the brothers stepped forward, each eager to demonstrate what they had gained.
Leo was the first to speak, his voice steady and sharp. "I've mastered Fire Release. Aggressive and relentless, just like flames themselves. With these twin blades in my hands, there isn't an obstacle I can't cut through."
A cold glint flashed in Weaver's eyes as he followed. His tone carried a chilling confidence. "My Ice Release can wither anything it touches. It freezes, destroys… reduces everything to nothing."
Mikey clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking faintly as he grinned. "I don't need fancy tricks. My body alone is enough. Endless strength, endless endurance. I'll smash anything that gets in my way."
Donnie closed his eyes, his expression calm, almost detached. "Wind… you have to listen to it. Feel it move, feel it breathe. When you understand it, you can move with it."
As their words faded, the energy around them began to shift. The heat of fire shimmered faintly in the air, while a biting chill crept along the ground. There was a subtle pulse, like blood rushing through veins, mixed with the soft whisper of wind curling through the space. These forces intertwined, layering over one another until the entire area seemed to glow with an almost surreal vibrancy.
Splinter watched quietly, a satisfied smile forming on his face. He could tell immediately what they were doing. His sons weren't just reporting their progress—they were showing it off, flexing the results of their training in their own ways.
And they had every right to.
Each of them had taken a step forward on their own path.
"That's good," Splinter said softly.
Then he raised a hand and pushed forward.
"Splash!"
The moment his palm moved, the entire flow of energy collapsed. The heat, the cold, the pressure, and the wind—all of it vanished instantly, as if it had never existed in the first place.
"What?!"
Leo and his brothers froze, their expressions shifting to shock. They had always known their master was powerful, but this level of control was something else entirely. It wasn't brute strength—it was absolute suppression, effortless and precise.
A thought immediately crossed their minds.
Had Lord Li Xuan given him some kind of special treatment?
Sensing their confusion, Splinter calmly explained, "I've begun to feel the power of nature itself."
"…?"
The three—Weaver, Mikey, and Leo—exchanged bewildered looks. The concept sounded vague, almost absurd. Feeling nature? What did that even mean in practice?
Only Donnie seemed to pause, his brow furrowing as he considered the idea. His own training had started with sensing the flow of wind, the subtle rhythm hidden within movement. If that was the foundation… then perhaps what Splinter was describing wasn't impossible.
But even so, there was a massive gap between sensing and controlling.
"You'll understand once your chakra training deepens," Splinter added, offering no further explanation.
He didn't dwell on it. Instead, his tone shifted, becoming firm as he began assigning tasks.
"Leo, as the leader of the four of you, I trust your judgment. Go and intimidate that dark force—Kingpin."
Leo straightened immediately and nodded without hesitation. "Understood."
Splinter turned his gaze to Weaver. "If you want to deal with the Russian Brotherhood, now's your chance. Stop holding back and lingering in hesitation."
Weaver's lips curled slightly as he responded, "Got it."
"Mikey," Splinter continued, "go destroy one of the Hand's factories. Make Madam Gao reconsider her position. She shouldn't be setting her sights on our allies."
Mikey grinned, cracking his knuckles again. "No problem."
Donnie, who had been waiting, finally spoke up, unable to hold back any longer. "What about me?"
Splinter looked at him, his expression softening slightly. "I have something different for you. Go find the superhero Daredevil. Fight alongside him against the darkness."
He paused for emphasis before adding, "And recruit him into our organization."
Donnie blinked, caught off guard by the second part of the order. For a brief moment, he hesitated, processing the implications. Then he nodded firmly. "Understood. I won't fail."
Weaver tilted his head, curiosity getting the better of him. "So where are you going, Master?"
Splinter's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of something deeper flickering within them. "I have another problem to handle. It concerns the new president of Osborne Corporation."
"The successor to that so-called madman?" Leo asked, clearly unimpressed.
Weaver scoffed lightly. "What could he possibly be dealing with that requires your personal intervention? We could handle him ourselves."
The group exchanged a few more words, their confidence evident. But Splinter said nothing further. His silence alone was enough to end the discussion.
The next moment, all four turtles vanished, their figures blurring as they shot off toward their respective destinations. Each of them carried their own mission, their own battlefield waiting ahead.
—
Deep within Hell's Kitchen, inside a detached villa tucked away from prying eyes, Wilson Fisk sat alone.
He leaned back in his chair, one massive hand supporting his chin as his gaze lingered on the documents spread across the table before him. His presence was already beginning to carry the weight of a king, even if his empire had yet to fully solidify.
The reports in front of him all revolved around a single name.
Milcom Industries.
"…The new president, Danny, wiped out three gangs in a single night."
"…Rumors claim he commands a shadow-like ninja force—appearing and disappearing without a trace."
"…Hell's Kitchen may be on the verge of a complete underworld purge."
Fisk's eyes darkened as he read through the analysis.
The balance of power in Hell's Kitchen had already begun to shift. Ever since the corrupted Iron Fist, Danny, aligned himself with Li Xuan, chaos had spread like wildfire. The entire underworld was being flipped upside down, piece by piece.
It wasn't that no one had tried to resist.
It was that resistance had proven meaningless.
Just last week, the leader of an Irish gang had dared to challenge Milcom Industries publicly. That very night, his body was found hanging in his own bedroom. Bloody words had been carved into the floor beneath him, a message so blatant it barely needed interpretation.
It was a warning.
A declaration.
Fisk's hand tightened into a fist.
"Bang!"
He slammed it against the table, the sound echoing through the room.
His power, at least on the surface, wasn't overwhelming yet. But behind the scenes, he had already begun weaving a network of connections at the highest levels of government. He had been waiting patiently for the right moment to rise, to claim his place as the true king of New York's underworld.
And now, that moment had been disrupted.
Milcom Industries wasn't just another gang. It was a multi-billion-dollar corporation, backed by real capital, real influence. Compared to that, traditional criminal organizations looked almost insignificant.
Worse still, they weren't hiding their intentions.
They wanted to clean house.
And they had the power to do it.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The sound at the door broke his train of thought. A voice followed, slightly eager, slightly unhinged.
"Lord Kingpin, I've picked up something… a little trinket that might interest you."
Fisk exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes before speaking. "Come in."
The door swung open with a creak.
A scraping sound echoed as someone stepped inside, accompanied by a faint dragging noise against the floor. The figure that entered was a man clad in a high-tech suit, a mechanical scorpion tail extending behind him.
Mac Gargan.
Once a private investigator, now something else entirely.
After donning the experimental scorpion suit, he had transformed into a supervillain, even going so far as to kill the scientists who created it. If not for Fisk pulling strings behind the scenes, the man would still be rotting in prison.
Since Bullseye's disappearance, Gargan had become Fisk's new right-hand man.
Unlike Bullseye, who was precise and controlled, Gargan was unstable. He carried weapons ranging from acid and tear gas to explosives, and he never removed the suit—not even to sleep. Power had consumed him completely, turning him into something closer to a weapon than a man.
"Lord Wilson," Gargan said, his voice tinged with excitement, "I know I can get a little… scattered sometimes. But this time, I'm thinking clearly."
He leaned forward slightly, his mechanical tail twitching behind him.
"I've found out what really happened to Bullseye…"
.....
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