Chapter Text
«These versions are so ridiculous,» Raphael thinks, clenching his jaw as he crosses his arms and stares at the scene in front of him. His disgust is obvious—he looks like he’s either about to explode or walk out of the room entirely. He hasn't decided which yet.
In front of these intruding turtles (or Turtles from Dimension 18, as Donatello prefers to call them), stands a holographic screen. Purple, naturally. It feels like it’s been loading for an eternity, until it finally emits a beep, flashes off and on, and reveals a rat alongside another mutant.
They assume the rat is Splinter, but who on earth is the other guy?
"My boys!" the rat cries out the moment the signal stabilizes.
The younger turtles light up instantly, their voices overlapping in a chaotic, almost competitive scramble to prove who missed who more.
Raphael grimaces. Pathetic.
"Enough. It’s time to address the actual problem," the other mutant interrupts.
"Ugh, always so convenient, Draxum," the rat complains—a comment that clearly annoys the mutant in question.
"Well, unlike you," Draxum replies, visibly irritated, "I actually did something to try and get our boys back."
"What?!" Splinter exclaims angrily. "Who got the illegal portal spellbook, huh?"
"That book was mine, and you stole it from my lab!"
"And I could have returned it to the library! Where you’re banned, by the way."
"I was an honorary member until..." He sighs, his anger slowly fizzling out. "...until I became a prisoner."
Wait. They live with a prisoner?
Raphael glances over at Leonardo, expecting him to have caught what the mutant just said. Leonardo looks bewildered, but he’s holding back from interrupting—maybe they misheard.
"My boys did a wonderful job, didn’t they?" Splinter smirks, gloating.
"Of course they did a wonderful job! I created them, after all," the mutant boasts. "Though I can’t say the same for how they were raised."
"Oh, please! I’d like to see you raise four hyperactive, super-mutant kids!"
They start shouting back and forth, but it doesn't devolve into a fistfight like most of Raphael's family expected. Splinter accuses Draxum of being cold, while Draxum calls Splinter irresponsible. It’s not an alarming sight—at least, not compared to Raphael's usual blowouts with Leonardo. Raphael even catches himself thinking their argument is weak, just two adults bickering over utter nonsense.
He doesn't get why this random mutant is so attached to them. They aren't good fighters, they aren't serious, and from what he can tell, they’re impulsive and rebellious. It’s not a conversation Raphael has ever had out loud with his own brothers, but he recalls Master Splinter mentioning their new guests' total lack of focus at some point.
Either way, the younger turtles don't seem bothered by the drama. On the contrary, they’re laughing, and even Raphael’s counterpart looks a bit more relaxed.
"Gosh, I miss you guys so much," Orange sighs, grabbing Red’s tail for comfort.
The comment puts an abrupt end to the bickering, leaving both adults looking a little self-conscious.
"We miss you too, Michelangelo," Draxum admits. "Your father is driving me insane."
"I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that," the rat mutters.
Raphael isn't sure he fully knows his own sensei—in fact, he knows Master Splinter keeps plenty of secrets about his past. But he’s dead certain his Sensei would never act as ridiculous as this miniature version. How short is this guy anyway? Was he always this tiny? Has he always been this immature and foolish? Now it makes sense why his Leo is so childish, but why does Red just follow along without a word? It makes no sense! That alligator turtle is built like a tank, with the natural strength and authority to take charge, yet he follows every dumb order from Blue or the rat without pushing back. If Raphael had a frame like that…
He gets lost in his thoughts until Donatello nudges him, breaking his focus. Raphael is about to shove him back, but notices how fast Donnie is scribbling in his old notebook. He decides to keep quiet and listen closely to their counterparts instead. They're talking about their April, college, and then get side-tracked by a weird spell. Words like ‘portals,’ ‘spiritual energy,’ and ‘dimensions’ bleed into the conversation.
Raphael shakes his head, trying to stay tuned in.
"I’m so sorry, Dad," Orange stammers, bowing his head in shame.
Ah, now I get it. It was Mikey’s fault, as usual. Just like most problems around here. He was probably fooling around, walked into Donnie’s lab, and messed with a machine.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Michelangelo," Draxum says, brushing the apology aside smoothly. "You did brilliantly. You controlled the energy flow under immense pressure. I’m proud of you."
Wait, what? Did Raphael hear that right?
Orange perks up at the words, beaming with pride. Blue, on the other hand, stiffens instantly, unable to hide his outrage. Raphael bites back a laugh, expecting Blue to give Mikey a lecture or something similar.
"What?! I... I did something too! Why does only Mikey get a compliment?"
Blue’s blatant indignation takes Raphael off guard—and honestly, probably his whole family too. At this point, their Leonardo would already be lecturing everyone on their incompetence and lack of seriousness, not throwing a tantrum because he wanted a gold star too.
"Of course, Leonardo. But let me remind you that you used your swords."
"So what? You said we could use our weapons to channel our power!"
"A fair point," Draxum concedes. "You did well, but opening a portal from your house to a pizzeria is vastly different from performing a transdimensional spell. You tore the fabric of the universe, you know. Exerting that level of force requires massive energy from the wielder, and that energy must be pure. By using your swords, you disrupted the spell and turned it into an insult to the laws of magic. Your swords are earthly objects; the ninpo inside them was bestowed, not raw."
Donatello stops writing mid-sentence, trying to process the information and make sense of the logic. Purple, meanwhile, laughs right in Blue's face.
"I told you guys it was Nardo’s fault!" Purple jeers.
Blue shoves him, not caring if it creates another awkward scene.
"I don't remember asking for your opinion!"
They would have spiraled into a full-on fight if it weren't for the guttural growl that escaped Red’s chest. He sounds like a furious animal—one ready to sink its teeth into the first thing that moves.
The sound freezes Raphael’s entire family in place. As much as they’d hate to admit it, hearing a noise that primitive up close is genuinely terrifying. They feel it right in the pit of their stomachs, like an instinctual predator warning.
Yet, Red’s warning barely breaks up the twins' squabble. They’re used to the snapping turtle’s endless patience and know he’d never actually hurt them over a minor spat. Raphael’s crew, on the other hand, has no idea. Red’s massive size makes them think he could rip out a throat at any second, completely unaware of his softhearted nature.
"He started it," Tello mutters, pointing a finger.
And Nardo, despite looking offended by the comment, just lets out a heavy groan. After that, things quiet down.
Splinter sighs, relieved he didn't have to step in.
"Thank you, Red." When he gets no response, Splinter tries to catch the snapping turtle’s eye. "My son, are you alright?"
Blue, Purple, and Orange turn to their oldest brother immediately. Now that they think about it, he hasn't said much throughout the whole call, which is concerning. They’re all expert troublemakers, after all.
"I’m fine, pops," Red finally speaks up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "It’s just... my head hurts a little."
"Blue, be a good brother and fix Raphael some tea."
Honestly, Raphael expects some pushback—at the very least, Master Splinter knows that when it comes to health, Donatello handles it. But Blue snaps to his feet instantly, completely forgetting he was about to trade blows with his twin a second ago.
"The usual tea?"
"Add a bit more honey. Your brother likes it that way."
Blue hesitates before stepping out, worried the ingredients he needs might not be in their counterparts' modest kitchen. Orange notices his brother’s shift in mood and pipes up playfully:
"I did the groceries yesterday! There are definitely enough ingredients in the kitchen."
Donatello looks confused. He remembers April arriving at the lair recently with a few pizza boxes, but he never saw her bring in grocery bags. Besides, when did Orange even leave and come back? He’s a Mikey—he can’t possibly be that quiet.
"What? Did you guys steal from our dimension?" Raphael mocks.
"Nope, Dee took care of the cash this time," Orange replies casually.
Raphael hears Leonardo muttering under his breath about the "this time" part, but they brush it off. Raphael, for one, doesn't want to deal with that right now.
"You work? Man, that’s crazy," Michelangelo says, rushing over to Purple, who looks deeply uncomfortable with the sudden attention.
"Uh... yeah, sure, hacking into abandoned investment accounts technically counts as financial management..." Purple clears his throat, flustered by the sudden spotlight and Donatello’s judging glare.
Before Leonardo can question that financial strategy and launch into a lecture, Blue heavy-steps back into the room, cutting off the conversation and stealing Purple’s spotlight.
Raphael knows what he just did. He’s seen Michelangelo do it plenty of times whenever Donatello doesn't want company in his lab: he makes himself the center of attention. He didn't expect Blue to be the type to do that, but it makes sense—the guy craves attention anyway, and it makes Raphael sick to his stomach. He can’t believe a version of Leonardo this stupid actually exists, though he won't deny he enjoys using it to bug his own brother.
"Guys, guys, relax," Blue says, handing a steaming mug of tea to his older brother with one hand and a giant slice of hot pizza with the other. "Dad’s handling it."
Red takes a sip from his mug, completely unfazed by the heat, and gives Blue an affectionate headbutt in gratitude.
"Aw, Raphie, don't worry, we’ll figure something out later," the slider says softly, gently patting the snapping turtle’s cheek.
Red begins to purr—a sound that catches everyone off guard, except for the Jitsu family (Jitsu? Seriously? Did their Splinter actually change his name? How cowardly can you get?).
Raphael can’t help feeling uncomfortable, and judging by Donatello’s face, his brother is feeling the exact same way. He remembers how, when they were kids, purring was common for Michelangelo, but it faded as the years went on. Donatello called it a sign of maturing—they became more aware of their surroundings, and acting like wild animals made no sense given their lifestyle.
Looks like this new family didn't get the memo.
Could this be that Uncanny Valley theory? They aren't exact copies of his brothers, but the resemblance is close enough to spark a deep sense of rejection and unease.
Unease aside, Raphael is genuinely bewildered by their dynamic. They actually look like a family—maybe not a perfect one, but definitely the kind he secretly wished he had.