Anton turned his head, a flicker of surprise flashing in his eyes as he looked at George.
He hadn't expected George to represent the NYPD and invite the Turtles to join the city's Special Task Force.
Still, from George's point of view, it was the best possible move for the department to make a change.
Recently, new threats and incidents had been popping up one after another.
The NYPD Task Force had originally been created to combat organized crime and underground syndicates.
But ever since the Lizard Incident, the team had been utterly outmatched—outplayed, outgunned, and constantly humiliated by these "monsters."
If it were just normal gangs, the Task Force's record was stellar.
But when it came to abnormal cases—like the Green Goblin or Shredder, two armored maniacs—things were a whole different story.
And now that lizard men and mutant turtles existed, George couldn't even guarantee what might appear next—Rhino Men? Ant Men?
Who knew—maybe one day Batman and Spider-Man themselves would mutate into Bat-Men and Spider-Men!
Either way, these beings' power levels were far beyond what the NYPD could handle.
Honestly, the Task Force's equipment had already reached the limit of what George could acquire—but against superpowered foes, it might as well be toys.
If not for Batman's occasional "unofficial" assistance, George might've been forced to resign long ago.
So, inviting the Ninja Turtles to join the NYPD Task Force—
It might have started as a sudden thought, but George was completely serious about it.
He knew Batman was too elusive and uncontrollable, impossible to recruit.
And Spider-Man—he always seemed way too busy.
Looking at that skinny frame that didn't match his strength at all, George was half-convinced he was just a scrawny high schooler still worrying about his homework.
As for Venom… too terrifying to look at. He'd give civilians nightmares. Out of the question.
The Turtles, on the other hand, seemed perfect.
From the way they'd faced Shredder earlier, George could tell they were righteous and determined to the core.
Even though this was only their second encounter, he already admired them.
"I won't make that decision for them," Anton said seriously after a brief pause. "But I doubt they'll refuse your offer."
The four Turtles had lived their entire lives in the dark, filthy sewers.
Their yearning to be accepted by humans—to walk freely under the open sky—was something most people could never truly understand.
They'd spent their whole lives hiding, only daring to come out during Halloween, pretending to be "guys dressed as turtles."
In the original timeline, they'd accepted that life with resignation—but that didn't mean they wanted it.
Deep down, they must've dreamed of walking under the sun, treading crowded streets, and feeling the curious, amazed, or even judgmental gazes of passersby.
For any normal being—if you could stand proudly in the sunlight, why would you ever choose to live in darkness, never seeing the sun again?
"There's one more thing," Anton added. "Even if they agree, you'll still have to convince someone else. Though honestly, I doubt he'll stand in your way."
"Who?" George asked, puzzled.
"A rat," Anton replied casually. "You'll meet him once the battle's over."
Another rat-man?!
Dear God, what was happening to this world?
George's head buzzed. It seemed like his worst predictions were already coming true.
While they talked, the Turtles' battle with Shredder had reached its boiling point.
The Turtles were giving it everything they had—every ounce of strength, every bit of skill.
Shredder, of course, wasn't easy prey. Despite wearing heavy samurai armor, his movements were sharp and agile. The blades on his arms were magnetized—when thrown, they would arc back like deadly boomerangs.
His endless combat tricks kept the Turtles constantly on edge.
But eventually, they found Shredder's weakness—the joints of his armor. Attacking those could jam or destroy the internal drive systems.
Leonardo swung his katana, wedging it into Shredder's knee joint, locking his leg in place.
On his back, Raphael jammed both sai deep into Shredder's shoulders.
Meanwhile, Donatello and Michelangelo hammered away at his sides, pummeling the armor's rib sections.
Boom!
Shredder was finally pinned down.
"Mere turtles!"
With a furious roar, Shredder clenched his fists and twisted violently. The sheer force of it flung all four Turtles away.
At the same time, his armor groaned under the strain—
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The blades and forks had damaged the joints, and cracks spread across the metal.
The armor's inner mechanisms jammed, slowing Shredder's movements.
He faltered for a split second—but instead of retreating, he used that moment to glare at his next target: the silent observer nearby—Batman.
"Your turn!"
Beneath his helmet, Shredder's face twisted into a savage grin.
He never thought about failure—only the next strike.
Boom!
The floor exploded beneath him, leaving a deep crater as spiderweb cracks raced outward.
The four Turtles, watching from the side, were stunned—
Then all of them collectively sighed.
They didn't even feel worried anymore. If anything, they pitied Shredder.
Wasn't fighting them bad enough?
Why go out of your way to pick a fight with him?
If you were at full strength, maybe—maybe—that'd make sense.But your armor's half-ruined, and you still want to die gloriously?
With a stomp, Shredder launched himself into the air.
The loose blades scattered across the floor shot back to his arms, locking into place as he descended like a missile toward Batman and George.
George's face went pale—but seeing Batman stand calmly beside him, he forced himself not to flinch or step back.
Eyes wide, he could only watch as Shredder hurtled down like an avalanche, fury and power bursting from every motion.
The air split with the shriek of his blades. His roar of rage merged with the tearing wind, forming an invisible web of pressure that enveloped everyone present—
The four Turtles, George, the Task Force officers, and Batman—Anton himself.
At the final moment—
Anton clenched his fist, shifted his stance, and turned slightly.
Feeling the violent wind of Shredder's swing, he zeroed in on the weak spot—the gap between the helmet and upper chest plate—his neck.
Then—he struck.
A fist like a cannon, bursting forth with explosive force.
BOOM!!
The punch tore through the air like a shockwave, smashing straight into Shredder's neck.
Crack! Crack!
Everyone could almost hear the bones in Shredder's body shifting, breaking.
A moment later, Shredder's armored form flew sideways like a ragdoll, crashing through the wall of the first-floor hall.
Bricks and debris collapsed over him, burying him completely.
The room went dead silent.
No one spoke. Not even a breath.
Only silence remained.
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)