|Date of Cutscene:||02 June 2019|
|Location:||New York City|
|Cast of Characters:||Splinter, Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo|
The old rat looks up, lit by a pair of candles on each side.
"Attend me, my sons." He shifts, letting out a soft grunt. "I am getting stiff in my old age."
The rat's whiskers flick, before he speaks, finally, choosing his words carefully. "I have wronged the four of you. I raised you, trained you to be soldiers in MY vendetta with Oroku Saki! I instilled you with this purpose, and you have followed it out of love and loyalty to me. Such a gift... can never be asked for, only given."
"I have often meditated upon this day. While you are yet young, and have much to learn, you are grown, and ready to begin embracing your own lives, your own destinies, together-and apart. Know that this is what I want for you--what I have *always* wanted for you. While you must live in the shadows by dint of what you are, each of you has special skills, special gifts, that you can share with the world to make it a better place." Splinter sighs, and grips the arms of his chair. "...Soon, with no prompting from me, you will feel the need to share those gifts, to find your OWN purposes. That is the way it should be."
Then he gets up. "...As for me, I am getting old. But I still have much to learn. And perhaps... I too have something to shar with the world. I have trained each of you in the eighteen disciplines of Ninjutsu. Like the artists I named you for, each of you approaches them in your own way, with your own unique flair! This... is a strength. Never doubt that."
"The discipline of Bo-Ryaku is the battleground of the mind. Move and countermove, deception and strategy, manipulation and maneuvering -- the ninja master can set events in motion while seeming to have done nothing, SAID nothing. I have waited... for the Shredder to forget me. For my old friend to have consigned me to the sewer, assuming I would only strike through you--move and countermove through my soldiers... my sons. That I would take no risks!"
"But a war cannot be won without taking risks. The Shredder knows this. As his goals come within reach, he must take the risk of reaching out to grasp at them. And that moment of risk is also a moment of weakness. The Ninja *chooses* that moment of exposure, when his enemy is vulnerable, to strike... to create chaos... to open up the path for his defeat!"
Splinter's tail lashes behind him. "...You do not exist to satisfy my vendetta, my sons. If you have ever believed this is so... I pray you can forgive me." The rat studies each of them, slowly. "I ask that you no longer fight for me... that you fight WITH me. Because I, too, must do my part to make this world a better place."
He turns to walk past them, and out of the lair. "...But first... I must create a little chaos and confusion in the heart of my enemy. A little fear."
The Next Day:
"...The team patrolling East Bronx never came back last night." The young man in the black Foot Clan yoroi looks stiff, uncomfortable. "We keep tabs on the movements of everyone who might act against us." He turns, and hits the wall. "A squad of trained ninjas doesn't JUST DISAPPEAR. WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY!?"
A young woman in a mask comes running in. She is cradling a tarp in her arms. "Jack! ...Jack. I just found this outside." She sets it down, and opens it. Inside... weapons. Foot clan weapons. And a note.
With shaking fingers, he picks it up, and crinkles it in his fingers. "...You should keep a closer watch on your property... old friend. Don't worry, though, I'm going to clean up the mess you've made in the city...?"
"That's Ben's sword." The young woman says.
"...I think Ben might be dead." Jack says, with his head in his hands. "...And after I tell the Master about this, I think I might be joining him."