"NO!"

Bishop tried to lunge at the turtle but his feet refused to move. They were sinking, fast. Enraged and desperate, he tried to reach for the Glock, but the portal was already up to his chest and then-

-and then he was blinking in the bright lights of the cell room. Booms echoed around them and the catwalk they materialized on shuddered. He twisted, hurriedly trying to take stock of the new situation. The double doors were to his right, utterly destroyed. To his left, the room was in chaos. Cell doors were open and Yokai filled the floor below, making their way towards a tank embedded in the underground entrance.

He ducked as something sailed overhead and crashed. What happened to the lasers? Where were the Maria-bots? Where was Hun, and Chaplin, and-

"Was that a portal- Dee! Raph! You made it!"

A growl alerted him that his fight wasn't over. He flipped around the railing just in time to avoid Raphael's charge. He landed back on his feet, then ducked as the shield was chucked at him like a Frisbee. A split second slower and he would have lost his head. Raphael dove towards Donatello and the other weapons. "Mystic energy's back on, guys!"

"Finally," boomed a voice, and Bishop's heart froze.

It can't be.

He turned.

There, crouched in the center of the room below, was Baron Draxum.

He rose, pink vines erupting from his palms, and in an instant Bishop dropped the machete, grabbed the Glock, and pointed.

"YOU!"

The whole room seemed to stop moving, stop crashing. Everything fell away except for his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He kept the gun raised, even as his breathing grew ragged. The vines halted, held poised and ready to strike, but didn't move.

This was it. This was what he had been preparing for for the last twenty-six years. This was vengeance. This was justice.

Those yellow eyes met his.

And suddenly nothing had changed.

Because time had healed no wounds. Scars were fresher than ever. For all of his planning and preparation and power, he was still just eighteen years old and trapped in that cage. He was still so goddamn afraid.

The gun shook.

He hated fear; thought he had long been hardened against it. Thought he had become the one who instilled fear instead. Yet here it was, eating him alive.

Maybe intimidation and mind games are YOUR coping mechanisms.

The whole room was silent, waiting for him to make his move.

He couldn't compartmentalize.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't plan.

Couldn't act.

"You… monster," he choked.

Those yellow eyes didn't turn from him. "Am I?"

Bishop barked a sudden laugh, more like a shout. "Are you kidding me?" He tightened his grip on the gun, willing it to stop shaking. "You imprisoned us. Tortured us. Studied us for our own extermination." The gun shook again, this time out of anger. "You monster."

"And yet you found me so inspiring."

It caught him off guard. Bishop lowered the gun an inch as his eyes widened. "What?"

The baron glanced away towards someone, and then spread his arms. "I must say, it's like being in my own lab." He turned a full circle as he spoke. "Nice and round. The cells in two rows along the walls. All that's missing is a dash of color."

His heart pounded. "N-no." His voice hardened. "All of this is to stop you! To protect humanity from the Yokai threat!"

"And my motives were to protect Yokai from the human threat!" Draxum growled. "You people drove us underground. Forced us to hide away." His voice roughened. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I last saw a sunrise?"

Bishop snarled and shook his head. Pathetic! He mustn't get distracted! "I made a vow I intend to keep," he spat, raising the gun again. "No matter the cost."

"Even the cost of your own humanity, Bishop?"

He didn't recognize the voice. The rat who had helped rescue the turtles earlier had spoken. He was supporting a skeleton, but managed to raise two, pink, bony hands. "I was mutated by Draxum, too," he said softly. "But this is not the answer."

Bishop closed his eyes. Watched the shadows dance in a permanent memory. Opened them in mourning.

"What other answer could there be?"

His finger tightened on the trigger-

-then something coiled around his arm and yanked it back.

He shouted, out of surprise and fear, but it wasn't a vine around his arm. His gun flew out of his grip and someone crowed "O-ho it worked!"

Leonardo and Augustus stood between the destroyed double-doors. Robyn and April stepped around them, swinging the remnants of a Maria-bot, a bat, and a sticky note.

"Yo, Bishop! I think this is all that's left of Project Jericho," April taunted. She crumpled up the sticky note and then popped it in her mouth. She flashed him a peace sign as she chewed.

"What?" He wrenched the whip off his arm.

"And we may have left your big friend chilling in a cube-cage," Leonardo said. "But don't worry! I'm sure you have a remote, right?"

Bishop saw red. His heartrate picked up in… panic. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

"You imprisoned us."

He turned. Donatello had spoken. He had stepped around his brother and was reaching for something on the catwalk.

He was reaching for the fallen gun.

"Tortured us."

He picked it up.

"Studied us for our own extermination."

He examined the gun and pointed.

Bishop braced. Those who live by the sword…

Thunk.

The clip fell to the floor. After another quick inspection, the turtle popped the last bullet out of the chamber. He sighed heavily, then tossed the Glock over the railing.

His eyes met Bishop's, and in them he recognized that same bedrock tenacity that had carried himself through so many trials. But the turtle's determination wasn't singed by the blaze of pain and wrath; this determination was like a stone. Come wind or rain it would endure. It was unshakeable, and Donatello didn't flinch as the gun finally clattered to the floor below.

The noise shocked him, though. Bishop clutched the railing as he reeled.

Had he really been about to shoot Draxum with a gun? Like that would work? He'd come so far but still had such a long way to go with... everything. Yet the subjects of Achilles were out of their cells and looking at him. And Jericho had been destroyed. And the O'Neil's had turned against him, and Cocytus was breached, and Hun was in a cage, and Draxum was looking at him with those yellow eyes, and he was surrounded, and, and he needed air, he needed space to think, he needed to regain control and figure out what went wrong, it was all too fast-

He slapped a button on his watch before he could think.

He dove between the group crowding the double doors as everyone jumped at the sudden alarm. He slid through just before a blast shield slammed down, sealing the cell-room off from the rest of Cocytus. He flinched as something heavy hit it from the inside.

The alarm continued as he shakily rose and approached the porthole in the blast shield. April and Leonardo were pounding on it, even as the O'Neil's pulled them back. Beyond them, pink vines writhed in the room, preparing for another strike.

"This isn't over," he whispered, and then ran.

Ran because Hun was still trapped somewhere in these halls in another cage.

Ran because they only had until they broke down the door to make their second escape.

Ran because he didn't know what else to do.