"RUN!" Raph screamed at her now, voice far less calm, as he jumped into the fray, trying to make himself as obvious a target as possible.
His hope was that she'd get somewhere safe, he'd be able to toss a smoke bomb and ninja away, and they could meet up later. Digging in and trying to win this thing was practically suicide, it needed to be a hit and run, and that meant it was better if one of them already started running.
But as difficult as the fight was, even while exhausted fifteen years of skill weren't anything to scoff at. Even while exhausted he could have held his own against some of the best of the best of her world.
However, unlike some of the best of the best of her world, he wasn't holding back. At all. Back when the Foot had all been human, they'd tried to knock them out with kicks and punches and the flats of their weapons. They'd had the luxury. They'd given the Foot so many beat-downs, of such magnitude, that most of them had decided a ninja life of crime wasn't for them. Shredder had run out of volunteers and had to commission all of his robot ninjas instead.
But when it was a lone ninja against, oh, three hundred Foot? And some nightmare version of the Shredder? That wasn't the time to hold back.
This was the first she ever saw him fight an enemy that wasn't a practice dummy and if it wasn't for, you know, all the blood spray, it would have been pretty majestic. Because even exhausted, he danced like lightning. He was a storm - half of the one they'd been together in the Drift - raging and flattening whole seaside civilizations. Sometimes he even gave the impression that he wasn't beholden to gravity and capable of liberating other people from it, leaping and bouncing off of crates, people, any available surface, flinging Foot ninjas around like rag dolls in complicated maneuvers that had them slamming into other ninjas and sending them also flying like errant bowling pins.
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His hope was that she'd get somewhere safe, he'd be able to toss a smoke bomb and ninja away, and they could meet up later. Digging in and trying to win this thing was practically suicide, it needed to be a hit and run, and that meant it was better if one of them already started running.
But as difficult as the fight was, even while exhausted fifteen years of skill weren't anything to scoff at. Even while exhausted he could have held his own against some of the best of the best of her world.
However, unlike some of the best of the best of her world, he wasn't holding back. At all. Back when the Foot had all been human, they'd tried to knock them out with kicks and punches and the flats of their weapons. They'd had the luxury. They'd given the Foot so many beat-downs, of such magnitude, that most of them had decided a ninja life of crime wasn't for them. Shredder had run out of volunteers and had to commission all of his robot ninjas instead.
But when it was a lone ninja against, oh, three hundred Foot? And some nightmare version of the Shredder? That wasn't the time to hold back.
This was the first she ever saw him fight an enemy that wasn't a practice dummy and if it wasn't for, you know, all the blood spray, it would have been pretty majestic. Because even exhausted, he danced like lightning. He was a storm - half of the one they'd been together in the Drift - raging and flattening whole seaside civilizations. Sometimes he even gave the impression that he wasn't beholden to gravity and capable of liberating other people from it, leaping and bouncing off of crates, people, any available surface, flinging Foot ninjas around like rag dolls in complicated maneuvers that had them slamming into other ninjas and sending them also flying like errant bowling pins.