C 89

"Batman!"

George's voice was filled with surprise and delight. "I knew you wouldn't let the Foot Clan cause trouble!"

"Batman!"

Shredder, who had been stepped on by Anton, let out an angry cry. His arms, bristling with sharp blades like a hedgehog, swished through the air as he lunged at Anton with slashing strikes.

Anton grabbed George and stepped back, retreating to the entrance of the Sachs Company building.

Outside the door, a small group of onlookers, undeterred by the danger, erupted in cheers at the sight of Batman. Though they kept a safe distance, they couldn't resist their excitement.

"Batman!"

"Go get them, Batman! Take down those thugs!"

The thunderous shouts spread through the area, leaving George, standing beside Anton, looking slightly helpless. It was clear that Batman's popularity in New York had reached an unprecedented level.

Even when the NYPD task force took action, there was never any applause or cries of support. Instead, the crowd simply watched, munching snacks like they were at a spectacle. 

But now, with Batman on the scene, the atmosphere felt like a rock concert, complete with an enthusiastic cheering section.

George's thoughts snapped back to reality as he turned his attention to Shredder, who stood in his gleaming silver samurai armor, radiating menace.

"Batman," George said, his tone grave, "you'll hand him over to the NYPD this time, right?"

George wasn't worried about Batman stepping in; he was more concerned that Batman might vanish with Shredder once the fight was over. If that happened again, it would be tough to explain to his superiors.

But then, George heard something entirely unexpected.

"That's not a question for me," Anton replied calmly. "His opponent isn't me. Today, I'm just a spectator."

"What?"

George's confusion was written all over his face. Batman's opponent wasn't Shredder? And Batman—a spectator? Was he joking? George looked at the cheering crowd behind them. Who exactly was the spectator here?

His thoughts were interrupted by a startling scene.

A group of humanoid turtles suddenly burst through the wall of the lobby, crashing onto the first floor. They lined up, standing firm between George and Shredder.

"What the—?"

George whipped around to face Anton. "Who are they? And why are they here?"

"They're Shredder's opponents," Anton replied nonchalantly.

"Turtles?"

Shredder froze in shock for a moment before glaring furiously at Batman. He didn't even bother acknowledging the turtles in front of him.

"You expect them to be my opponents? Batman, are you mocking me?" Shredder growled, his pride as a warrior deeply insulted.

His arms shook, the sharp blades springing to life again. With a fierce motion, the blades shot out, a torrent of metal slicing through the air toward Anton and George.

The sound of knives cutting through the air was deafening.

George's expression turned tense, but Anton remained unfazed, standing calm and motionless.

"Relax, George," Anton said with an air of confidence, even taking a moment to reassure him. "The turtles will take care of Shredder and help the task force deal with the Foot Clan."

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

The turtles advanced, skillfully wielding their weapons to deflect the torrent of sharp blades. The clash of metal on metal echoed loudly, filling the air with the sound of battle.

The four turtles surrounded Shredder, engaging him in a chaotic back-and-forth skirmish.

"What the hell are they?" George muttered, swallowing nervously. He stared at the bizarre creatures, their shapes and movements unlike anything he'd seen before. The memory of the recent Lizard incident flashed in his mind, making him uneasy.

"Batman, are you sure... they're not Lizard's accomplices?"

"Of course not," Anton replied casually. "They were created by the Foot Clan. This is poetic justice—a fitting revenge against their creators."

Despite Batman's explanation, George still looked bewildered. But at least he now understood one thing: these turtle-like beings weren't villains—they were allies.

"Are you really not going to help?" George pressed after a moment of silence.

The battle between the turtles and Shredder had escalated, their movements a blur of speed and precision. Even the NYPD task force stationed on the street had begun to retreat, leaving the combatants to their fight.

None of the officers dared to intervene. The ferocity of the fight and the rapid shifts in position made it impossible to aim without risking collateral damage.

Besides, Shredder's silver samurai armor was bulletproof.

As for the turtles... their shells had proven equally impervious. During the Green Goblin incident, these same turtles had charged straight through the task force's defensive line, shrugging off a hail of bullets. 

Their resilience was undeniable.

George cast a quick glance at Anton. Even if the turtles somehow lost, Batman was standing right there. In the eyes of the task force, Batman's presence this time was less about fighting and more about training.

It was obvious to them that the turtles were Batman's sidekicks.

Just like Spider-Man during the Green Goblin incident, the turtles seemed to follow Batman's lead. It didn't matter that they were all animal-themed superheroes. What mattered was that Batman—the Bat—was the one in charge.

After all, a bat's fist was apparently the hardest.

"No one looks down on me!"

Shredder's enraged roar cut through the noise of the fight. He had been locked in combat with the turtles for some time now, unable to gain the upper hand. The realization gnawed at him, fueling his frustration.

In his mind, the situation was clear.

These turtles were Batman's protégés. And Batman had shown up not to defeat him but to train his sidekicks—using him, Shredder, as nothing more than a stepping stone.

The very idea was an insult Shredder couldn't bear.

He had no idea the turtles were actually the result of genetic experiments conducted over a decade ago by his subordinate and adopted son, Eric Sachs.

Shredder's knowledge of the experiments was limited. He only knew of Sachs' poison gas plan, unaware of the full scope of the genetic modifications that had birthed these mutants.

But even if he had known, it wouldn't have lessened his fury.

Batman's actions now were exactly what Shredder suspected: utter contempt.

And Shredder would not stand for it.

"You will pay the price!"

Shredder growled through gritted teeth, his rage clouding his judgment as he doubled down on his assault against the turtles. 

He knocked Leonardo, wielding his steel katana, off balance and landed a heavy punch on Michelangelo, who had been spinning his nunchaku. 

Turning his attention forward, he faced Donatello and Raphael, who blocked his path with unwavering resolve.

"Our battle isn't over yet. We won't let you pass!" Raphael declared, his voice firm.

"That's right," Donatello added in a measured tone. "If you want to fight Batman, you'll have to go through us first."

"Your opponent is us!

Behind Shredder, Leonardo and Michelangelo, who had been momentarily knocked down, rose to their feet again. Leonardo gripped his katana with determination, while Michelangelo spun his nunchaku, ready for the next round.

Each of their faces displayed the same unyielding determination.

Not far away...

Anton watched the scene unfold, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Beside him, George observed the turtles with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. Something about their resolve struck a chord in him, and he found himself momentarily speechless.

When he finally snapped out of it, an idea struck him. Testing the waters, he tentatively said, "Batman, these turtle people—they're superheroes just starting out, right?"

"What are you trying to say?"

Anton, still focused on the battlefield, gave George a sidelong glance, curious but skeptical.

George, emboldened, rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Since you're training them, have you ever thought about letting them join the New York Police Department's task force?"

Anton's expression didn't change, but George pressed on, his tone growing more earnest.

"The task force needs talented individuals now more than ever! Uh, turtle people count as talented individuals, right?" He gave a sheepish but hopeful smile. 

"I'd welcome them with open arms!"

..

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