Prologue

The place? New York City. The time? Midnight.

Upon first glance, it's quite the sight to behold. Especially once night falls, when it's alit with all of the different, colourful lights. And the many different things to do, and the places to see. From the Statue of Liberty, to Central Park, from Broadway, to Times Square, this city seems to have it all.

But the bright lights, and famous attractions and locations only mask the criminal element that still plagues this beloved city to this day. Despite how grand it may look, New York is still home to thieves, murderers, all sorts of scum one could imagine.

As if that's not enough, New York also just so happens to be a magnet for a lot of strange, bizarre things. Not that any of its citizens seem to notice. Outside the occasional sighting, no one seems to know of the strange goings-on in this city. Even now, a battle between the forces of good and evil is waged every night, in the shadows. Though New York's citizens are under constant danger, they're also under the protective watch of a group of heroes. Never taking credit for their heroic deeds, they hit their enemies hard, and fade away into the night.

Tonight was another one of those nights, when those heroes would once again operate in secret. For tonight, a trade between two criminal gangs was about to go down.

Inside a warehouse at Pier 41, a group of twenty street punks - some sporting wild hairstyles, some having piercings in different parts of their heads, all wearing leather jackets with a stylized image of a purple dragon on the back - had gathered together to meet with the representative of the other gang they had made a deal with. For half an hour, they waited, with most looking more than a tad impatient. Finally, they heard the sounds of cars and motorbikes outside, gradually getting louder. They saw the vehicles park outside the entrance. Moving inside, the group of other thugs, wearing blue hoodies, and wearing orange goggles, came in, most of them carrying heavy, metal cases.

One of the punks in the purple dragon jackets sat in the center, behind a small, wood crate. He leaned against it, as one of the thugs in the blue hoodies approached him. "Merchandise is all here," said the blue hoodie. "I assume you've kept your end of the deal."

The punk in the jacket looked to one of his fellow gang members, and whistled. The aforementioned other member walked over, with his own metal case in hand. He handed it off to the dealer, who placed it on the crate, and opened it up. "You can count it all, if you want."

The hoodie's eyes surveyed the pile of cash inside for a moment, before he gave the jacket a satisfied nod. He held up his own case, slid it over to the jacket, and took the money. "This, and all the other stuff we've got here. Enough hi-tech weapons for an army."

Before the jacket could even lay a finger on it, something metal and sharp whistled through the air, and embedded itself into the handle of the case. "The hell?!" He ripped it out to get a better look. But once he did, he raised his eyebrow, and scratched his head at the sight. A shuriken?

"The hell is this?" The blue hoodie growled. He and his team all got up, most pulling out the weapons they'd been trying to sell from their cases. "You trying to set us up?"

"You would accuse us of treachery?" The jacket snarled, as he and his own team were quick to ready themselves for a fight. "How do we know this isn't your doing?"

Another shuriken came flying in, easily smashing through all the hanging lamps in the warehouse, and sending them crashing into the ground. With both gangs now on the lookout, they silently agreed to a temporary truce, and huddled together.

Then, cast by the moon in the night sky, four shadows moved from outside, across the floor. They all turned, and gaped at the four dark figures standing by the doorway, all brandishing weapons. "No..." the jacket muttered in horror. "Not you. Not now."

The lead figure's twin swords glinted in the moonlight, as they all got into their battle stances.

The two gangs all tried to bum-rush the four figures at once. But unfazed, these warriors met the challenge head-on.

For five minutes, all that could be heard from outside of that warehouse were the sounds of lasers going off, brutal punches and kicks meeting their targets, and bones being broken.

Then, silence.

In an abandoned steel mill, a man of Asian descent, looking to be in his early to mid-30s, and wearing the same jacket with the purple dragon on its back, glared at the man who stood across his desk in his office. "This was going to be a major deal," he said, the tone in his voice making it painfully clear that he was far from happy. "25 million dollars for a lot of advanced weaponry. I trusted you to see it through. I sent twenty of you to that warehouse. It is now three hours later, and you have come back with nothing but bruises, blood, and broken bones. I do not see the money we offered, nor do I see the weapons we were promised. So, my question is what the hell happened?"

The man trusted to hand the money off, now with some visible bruises on his exposed torso, his arms, and a black eye, was barely able to breathe out his explanation. "It was... those four freaks again, Hun. Th-they... they came in out of nowhere... took out the lights... we didn't... stand a chance. When we all came to, the money, and the weapons were gone."

Hun snarled, and stood up from his chair. "Is that right?" he asked.

Not a few seconds later, the other man was sent crashing through the window. He took a great tumble down the stairs, screaming in pain the whole time. The other gang members gasped at the sight, while Hun casually walked out of the office, and down the stairs. He lifted the punk up by his jacket, and growled, "Those weapons were not just for us. They were for our gracious benefactor, so that he could supply his own freaks with their share of the weapons. In case you didn't know, he does not tolerate failure. And if he doesn't tolerate failure, then I don't tolerate failure. Slip up again, and you will suffer worse than a fall down the stairs."

The man in his grip swallowed, and gasped out, "You got it, boss."

Just as Hun let him drop to the floor, he heard some frightened mumbles from his other goons. He turned to see what the commotion was, only to stare in shock at what was happening. The air was filled with a strange, indescribable noise, and the space in front of them seemed to warp, and contort itself. Finally, the whole steel mill was engulfed in a bright light for a second, forcing them all to shield their eyes from its intensity.

A second later, the light faded away. As everyone tried to recover, Hun spotted something glowing on the floor. Something red. He stepped forward, and picked it up to take a closer look. It was a gem of some kind, with some visible cracks. A ruby, maybe.

But something about this ruby... something felt off. He couldn't quite place it. But he felt as if...

"Hun!" He was pulled out of his thoughts, when one of his men called him over. He looked, and saw him point to something else that had shown up. A man, worn and ragged himself, as if he had been through an intense fight, lying flat on his back, and unmoving.

Hun hummed in thought, before staring down at the ruby in his hand. "Something tells me... this could be of great interest to him." He looked to the rest of his members. "Let's head out. We need to get in touch with him." He looked over at the man on the ground, who had seemingly appeared along with the ruby. "Is he dead?"

The thug who had found him quickly checked for a pulse. "No, he's still kicking. But barely."

"Bring him along too." Hun pocketed the ruby, and headed for the door. "Something tells me the Shredder will want to know about this.

Meanwhile, deep beneath the city, within miles and miles of sewer tunnels, while Hun and his gang were suffering from their loss, someone else had taken some time for a personal celebration.

Perhaps stopping a weapons trade between two criminal gangs wasn't that much cause for celebration, but when you're a mutated teenage turtle who trains in the art of ninjitsu, uses those skills to stop bad guys in their tracks regularly, and is always enjoying the highs of life, you'd be looking for any excuse to relax, and party down too.

Thus was the lifestyle of one mutant turtle with an orange mask over his eyes, Michelangelo.

Mikey laughed joyously, as he skateboarded through the narrow sewer tunnels, five boxes of pizzas in hand, while the sound of The Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop blared from his T-Phone through his earbuds. Hours ago, he and his three older brothers had just taken down some hi-tech crooks, and some Purple Dragons, tossed all the weapons into the river, and brought the money to the bank that the Purple Dragons had robbed it from. Far as he was concerned, this was good enough cause for celebration. And what better way to celebrate than to chow down on the greatest food known to all of turtlekind?

Pizza.

He grinned at the big jump ahead, and hopped over the gap, all while screaming, "Booyakashaaaaa!"

His wheels slammed down on the other side, and kept moving, before he found his way back into that abandoned subway route that led to home sweet home.

He turned the corner, hopped over the turnstile, and brought his skateboard to a halt. He pulled out his earbuds, kicked up his skateboard, and declared, "Everyone can relax! Pizza's here!"

Within the spacious living room of his family's lair, another turtle, this one with a red mask, took his head from out of his comic, and found his brother standing at the entrance with said pizzas in hand.

With a smile, Raphael rolled his eyes, tossed his comic aside, and got up off the beanbag chair he'd been sitting in. "Here I thought our biggest concern earlier tonight was bustin' some Purple Dragon heads. But lack of pizza?" He chuckled, and teased, "I don't know what we'd do without you, Mikey."

"No need to thank me, Raph," Mikey replied with a proud grin, setting the pizzas down on the table. "I'm just awesome like that."

"Uh-huh." Raph rolled his eyes. As soon as he opened the first box, his sensations were immediately flooded with that wonderful aroma of freshly baked pepperoni and cheese pizza.

"So, it's just you?" Mikey asked, as soon as he grabbed a slice. "Where are Leo, and Donnie?"

"Right here." The two turtles turned their heads at the sound of their eldest brother's voice. Another turtle, this one in a blue mask, came out of the dojo to join them. "I was just finishing up some training," said Leonardo. "Need to keep myself sharpened."

"After tonight?" Raph asked, as the other two turtles grabbed their own pizza slices. "I figured you would've had enough practice, with all those goons at the warehouse."

Leo laughed. "I'm sorry, what? You're telling me to take a break?"

"Hey, I'm just sayin', I'm usually the one who craves action." Raph bit down on his slice, chewed it up, and swallowed it down. "Though I gotta say, I'm hurt. You should've asked me to spar with you, if you wanted to practice that bad. Any excuse to take you down a peg."

"Uh-huh. Sure." Leo smirked, and bit down on his own slice.

"Hey, it's been known to happen." Raph pointed at him. "We can go at it now, if you want. I always love seeing that look on your face, when I beat you in training."

"If I recall correctly, I seem to remember taking you down just as many times as you do me," Leo replied.

"Well, yeah, but you can't deny I hit harder than you do," Raph rebutted.

Before this could go into another bit of playful banter, or evolve into another shouting match between the two, Mikey interrupted the moment. "What about Donnie? Is he still around, or what?"

Raph grunted, and looked towards the pair of metal doors leading to Donnie's lab. "He was here," he answered, "but then something went off in his lab, so he went to check it out. Probably some weird reading on his whatever-o-meter."

"Well... should we check on him?" Leo asked.

"Nah, I figure if it was urgent, he would've called for us." Raph shrugged and took another bite from his pizza.

"Well, he should still take a break from his sciencey stuff soon." Mikey finished up his slice, before going for another. "He's missing out on some awesome pizza."

Raph raised his eyebrow. "Lemme guess. At least one of these pizzas has some of your usual weird topping combos?"

"What you call weird, I call an acquired taste, dudes," Mikey said, trying to sound as sophisticated as he could. He couldn't quite pull it off.

"I'm sure it's something that'll keep my stomach lining intact," Leo muttered.

Within one of the lair's rooms, he sat cross-legged on his mat, the incense burning away, and filling the room with a scent that helped guide him into his meditative trance. He breathed deeply. In and out. In and out. The world around him didn't exist. At this moment, it was only himself. Hamato Yoshi, who once was human trained in the art of ninjitsu. Hamato Yoshi, who once had the love of his life taken away by the actions of a jealous, vengeful man. Hamato Yoshi, who had moved to America, and eventually had been mutated into a brown rat. Hamato Yoshi, who had adopted the name Splinter, and came to raise four, young mutant turtles as his sons.

At this moment, it was just him, focusing on the sound of his breathing, looking to better his mindfulness. To be even better aware of his surroundings.

His meditation was soon interrupted, however, by images that flashed through his mind. Disturbing ones. Images of familiar faces. A deadly figure he knew all too well. He also saw faces he didn't recognize, such as that of a tall man in red. He could practically hear his mad laugh in his mind. Many more things passed through his head. His sons battling. Something running faster than anything he'd encountered before. The panicked screams of New York's citizens. A hole being torn open in the sky above. And in the middle of it all, a glowing red jewel, followed by sinister whispers.

It was enough to startle him from his trance. With a stern frown, Splinter hummed, and said to himself, "I sense something big on the horizon..."

Ever since he heard one of his machines go off, Donatello had been in his lab, trying to find the cause of it. The turtle in the purple mask rapidly typed away at his keyboard, while his eyes were glued to the multiple screens in front of him. So far, from what he was able to gather, it didn't seem to be a problem with any of his equipment. No intruders were coming up on their lair. A problem up on the surface then?

Donnie had a bad feeling. Were the Purple Dragons, or even the Foot messing with something they didn't know anything about? They had come into contact with machines, and other objects that gave off strong energy readings before.

Looking over an on-screen map of the city, he tried searching for any sort of recent, weird anomalies.

What he found was something he wasn't sure he could comprehend. "This is... this is almost unbelievable..." the gap-toothed turtle gasped, eyes widening at his discovery. These energy readings, they were off the charts! He couldn't make any sense of them! Whatever was doing this, it was completely throwing him for a loop. And it looked like it was happening at the Purple Dragons' HQ: the abandoned steel mill.

He needed to get his brothers. Whatever was happening down there, he had a feeling it wasn't good news for anyone.

"So... that's how it happened," Hun finished, looking expectantly up at his boss.

The man sitting in the throne before him, wearing an outfit that was practically covered in blades, held the ruby in his hand. Even as he gazed down upon it, he could feel... something special about this gem. As if... as if it was calling out to him somehow...

"Interesting," he finally said. "I will have Professor Stockman study this, and see what he can find. But just to be clear. For your sake, you had better hope this will make up for those weapons you failed to procure." Hun noticeably winced, as the man got up, and took his leave.

He walked down the halls of his lair, then entered through a door that led to a lab filled with all sorts of computers, different equipment, and massive tubes of green liquid. He made his way to a stretcher, where the mystery stranger that appeared with the ruby lied, covered in a white sheet, hooked up to an IV, and a mask over his face to help him breathe.

"What do you make of our patient, Stockman?" he asked the odd fly mutant attending to the man.

The large fly in the white lab coat turned, and looked at his master with his large, red eyes. "Zzzztill don't know hizzzz identity, mazzzzter," Stockman replied. "Whatever did thizzz to him zzzzertainly did a number on him. When you had him brought here, he looked like he had juzzzzt been caught in a huge exzzzzzplosion. I'm zzzzzurprizzzed he hazzzn't zzzzuffered any zzzzeroiuzzz burnzzzz. Though, he sure doezzzz have zzzzome bad bruizzzezzz, and zzzome broken ribzzzz. I am no medical exzzzzpert, but I am doing what I can to bring him back to health."

"Then maybe he can tell me a few things." The man handed Stockman the ruby he had. "While you're in here, I also want you to learn what you can about this. This had arrived along with him."

The mutant fly took the ruby, and nodded. "I'll zzzzee what I can do, mazzzzter Shredder."

As Stockman took the ruby away to analyze it, Shredder glanced down at the man on the stretcher. "Wake up soon, my new friend," he said quietly. "We have a lot to discuss."

A/N: Hello, all, and welcome to Phantom Crossrip. This is something I had been working on for a while now. Any constructive criticism, and questions you may have, be sure to let me know in your reviews, and I'll address them soon as I'm able. I really hope you all enjoy the ride.