(Hello all! New story from me :D Iv'e actually finished this whole fanfic already, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of posting the whole thing now :D I'll update with a chapter a week, but otherwise enjoy and please note that I literally live on reviews, so review away! - Roxi xx)

The war is neverending. We're fighting day and night, barely getting enough time in for important functions such as eating, sleeping, having fun. Fun. Ha! Is there even such a word? When the Grim Reaper is at your door 24/7, there's no such word as fun. Just endless fighting and waiting for the next strike, the next ambush, the next unnecessary death.

It's been just over a week now, and the Shredder's really stepped up his game. There are footbots EVERYWHERE, on the roofs, in the sewers, even in disguise on the street. There is no escape. Every night, we go out and destroy more robots, and every day we track our human friends from a distance, protecting them as they go about their days, trying to grasp onto that one strand of normal as if their lives depend on it, which they do.

But that's not what's important. What's important is that I dodge the next footbot's strike as they aim to stab at me, raising my bo staff to defend myself against hit after hit. I retaliate, lashing out, pivoting on one foot, my staff taking out several foot at once as I complete a full circle and jump, quickly converting my bo into a naginata and slicing the next bot clean in half.

The attacks are relentless, from all sides, but my brothers and I bravely fend them off as we have been taught. Suddenly, I am caught off guard. A footbot (which I thought I had defeated) picks up the broken end of its fallen comrade's weapon, a blunt club. I don't see it coming until it's far too late. I just have time to register the weapon swinging towards my face when a jarring impact shoots through my head and everything goes black.

For a few moments, I am falling into an abyss of darkness, my eyes unseeing, silence hanging like a thick blanket over my world. And in that silence, something stirs. Something sinister. But before I can reach out to it, the almost comforting blackness crumbles and falls around me.

I feel as if I am being pulled back through a long tunnel, and rushing sound fills my ears as I open my eyes with a startled gasp. I stare into the faces of my brothers, whose worry recedes as they realise I'm okay. With Leo's help, I stand. The stiff and lifeless corpses of dead footbots litter the ground - It looks like I missed the end of the fight.

With aching bones and weary limbs, we all wander back to the lair, tired and cold and alive. For now.

I walk to my room after taking a shower, though the water has done nothing to soothe my sore muscles or wash away the dark mottling of the bruises that mark my skin. I pass the mirror in the hall and stop to look at myself in the half light, my reflection staring impassively back at me.

I'm a mess. My smooth green skin is marred by bruising and fresh scars, my normally sparkling maroon eyes robbed of their light, now dull and brown. The rings under my eyes (due to many sleepless nights and the constant fighting) look as if they've been drawn on with a black marker pen. I sigh, rubbing my head where that footbot had struck me earlier. I could feel the headache coming on, an unpleasant prickling at the back of my mind.

There would be a lump the size of the empire state building there in the morning. I sigh again and go into my room, closing the door behind me and sliding down to sit against it, my knees hugged to my chest.

That's when I hear it. A soft hissing sound, a whisper of sorts. I jump and look around, momentarily panicked. There's no-one here. But the whispering doesn't stop. It takes me a good few minutes of listening and frowning for my dulled brain to realise that it's coming from inside my own mind. I shake my head, wincing as the motion causes the already threatening headache to jolt closer. Just as suddenly as the whispering started, it stops.

Unnerved, I get into bed and turn out the light, sinking under the covers, my body relaxing as I quickly succumb to rest.

I didn't sleep well that night.