At this point, the black and white world of Turtle Prime has inexplicably merged with the world of our beloved "multi-coloured headbanded turtles". While most are left stranded in other dimensions, some are left behind with memories of unfamiliar faces, places and experiences. Characters involved in this scene are:

Radical (Mirage comics): A super heroine whose attire consists of a white spandex outfit which as been ordained on the arms and boots with red arrows, very much like traditional Native American warpaint. By day, she is known as Dr. Raven Shadowheart who works as an anthropologist for the Museum of Natural History's Native American exhibits. While she was not seen again until Issue 41 of the second volume of Tales of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, it is revealed to turtle fans that Radical and Leonardo are deeply entwined in genuine romance, claiming not only to be lovers, but soul mates.

Splinter (Mirage comics): Unlike his other incarnations, Splinter has a much darker personality in the Mirage comics. While compassionate and protective of his loved ones, he is also capable of holding grudges against his enemies for a very long time: he raised and trained the Turtles in the shadows of his own grief as he patiently waited for the day when they would be ready to avenge the death of his beloved Master Yoshi.
Splinter has always been an inspirational figure to his adopted turtle-sons and also, April O'Neil who, in the comics, looks up to him as a father. And she, as his daughter.

Michelangelo (2k3 cartoon): While maintaining his happy disposition, Mike has no doubt evolved as can be seen in his interactions with the Super Heroes of the Justice Force as well as his own brothers. Not that this character development should be overestimated, mind you. He's still Mikey. Oh, and for the record: He's the Battle Nexus Champion. Also, some new surroundings and faces are strangely familiar to him. It's almost as if he is remembering things from another life time...


Scene 2: New York Burning

It was one thing after a long night's flight and patrolling the polluted, gloomy air of New York City, but it was an entirely different thing when you flew into your window—your own window—to get some rest and find out that some strangely, brightly-coloured family were suddenly in your bed, sleeping on some gaudy getup.

"Get the hell out of my apartment!" Radical yelled.

"No—you get out!" a voice fought back.

Despite this, she made her way to her landlord only to realise that somehow, in the past six hours, he had had a sex change, lost weight and height, and forgot everything about her.

When he (who was now a she) decided to call the police complaining about a strange, monochromatic woman trespassing into the apartment, Radical simply responded, "I am a Native American!" and flung herself out the window only to discover that, yet again, the winds were flailing her about like a paper bag.

The Native American super heroine was completely out of her element.

It had never happened to her before in the past few years of taking the mantle of the Wakinyan Tanka, the thunder bird. It took much diligence and training, yes, but eventually she had mastered all the elements of the earth: plants, water, air, rock—they all obeyed her commands. The thunderclouds themselves would pour for her.

Now her energy was drained. It was not like when she was surrounded by man-made objects and could not come in contact with the elements, but it was as if the elements had not been the ones she had known at all.

The city had suddenly felt more enclosed, more polluted, and its bright colours and bizarrely mismatched landscapes were hurting her tone adjusted eyes.

In this alien world, Radical had quickly found herself having absolutely no possessions to her name, and no place to go.

Swallowing, Dr. Raven Shadowheart, hiding her white spandex uniform beneath an overcoat she found in the trash, looked up to the sign above the door. "Second Time Around?" she questioned before sighing. "I guess I can't be too picky. Let's just hope that advertisement for rooms for rent is still good..."

--

Michelangelo groaned and rolled out of his bed, finding it damp with the hazy dew. He could have sworn he was sweating by that point.

The heat was unbearable. He couldn't even believe that he was still in his room.

And those weird dreams he had that night: they were all about him, his brothers, other people and creatures...

Everyone looked so familiar yet so foreign. If he saw them while he was awake he would have never recognised them but there, in his dreams, they felt right. They felt like his friends.

"Hey, is anyone awake?" Mike said as he came through the Lair and looked around curiously. "Let's get some air-conditioning in here!"

"Michel--" heaved a voice. "Michelangelo!"

It was his father and he sounded raspy, like his voice had been squeezed through a grinder.

Mike panicked.

It was frightfully similar to how his father sounded in their final battle with the Utrom Shredder, when there was no hope for escape. The very thought sent tremors down his shell as he clamoured towards the origin of Splinter's voice.

"Master Splinter!?" he called out in horror before coming across a section of the Lair.

It was smoldering, like someone had turned a furnace on in its area and left the flame to consume everything and everyone in its path. It nearly made his eyelids shrink up at the sheer heat.

He came to a stop, not taken back by the heat, but by the black and white mass that was huddled where the heat was the worst. It looked like a giant black rat.

But that didn't make any sense!

Master Splinter had always been a grey rat.

"Sensei?" Michelangelo questioned in genuine confusion. "You're...you're black."

Under any normal circumstances Mike would have leapt all over an opportunity like that. It was a statement that seemed to seethe with jokes on its own, but he could not pay attention to that at a time like this.

Of all the imposters, robots, and clones that he and his brothers had spent their time facing, one would have thought that Michelangelo would have been more cautious when approaching the black rat Master. However, something within Mike knew it was okay.

Despite his own mental image of Splinter, Mike knew that this monochromatic creature was Splinter, albeit a much sharper and heavily blotted one. And Mike felt like he had known this Splinter his entire life.

He quickly knelt down and threw one of his father's arms over his shoulders. "Don't worry, Sensei, I'll get you over to the kitchen's fan!"

With that, the turtle-son began to move the elderly father towards the room across the hall, his eyes continuously shifting over Splinter's body, checking him just in case.

The old rat looked almost like he came out of another world. A very familiar world.