Smoke still hung heavy in the air like the room had tried to vape itself to death. The compound burned behind them, orange flames licking the sky as screams of ninjas and wizards echoed like a cursed opera.
Leonardo doubled over behind the dumpster behind the building, still catching his breath. His suit was charred, his hair was full of ash, and he was pretty sure someone else's blood was on his collar.
Don Salvatore stood beside him, reloading a pistol like it was just another Tuesday. "We're moving. Now."
Tony—big, bald, and built like a meatball wrapped in leather—stood guard by the alley's exit, his eyes scanning for more magical freaks.
Leonardo groaned, standing upright and brushing soot off his jacket. "Anyone got a phoenix feather and a time-turner? No? Just checking."
Don Salvatore didn't even look at him. "Shut up and walk."
They pushed into the alley, flanked by crumbling walls and neon signs flickering like they'd seen too much. Leonardo couldn't help but mutter, "All this magic and no one's invented LED stability yet?"
But then—
Thup.
A silent shape dropped from the rooftops. Then another. Then six.
The Hand.
Their red-clad bodies slipped through the shadows like blood given form. One of them gave a sharp gesture, signaling the group.
"We're being followed," Tony grunted, pulling out a heavy submachine gun.
"No kidding," Leonardo hissed. "What gave it away? The aesthetic ninjas falling from the sky like ninja rain?"
Don Salvatore pulled Leonardo back. "Run. Now."
And they did. Bolting through the alley, dodging over trash, crates, and the occasional rat with too much confidence.
Then, the real problem arrived.
Out of nowhere, a crackle of black magic split the air—and two of the Hand ninjas behind them imploded into crimson mist.
Leonardo turned mid-sprint. "Oh come ON. They were already fighting WIZARDS—do they get no union breaks?!"
A figure in a dark robe stepped out of the mist—tall, faceless, wand in hand. Behind him, three more emerged from the alley fog, robes rippling with silver serpents and eldritch runes glowing like radioactive tattoos.
Leonardo froze. "Oh no. The murder mimes are back."
Before he could react, one of the Alliance wizards lifted a hand and muttered a spell—
"Incarcerus!"
Chains of pure light whipped from thin air and ensnared Tony, dragging him back with terrifying force.
CRACK.
Tony's body hit the wall hard, then harder, then stopped moving altogether. One of the wizards calmly stepped over the corpse like it was just an inconvenient speed bump.
"TONY!" Don Salvatore roared, firing wildly with his pistol—but the bullets slowed mid-air, melting into molten droplets before hitting the first robed figure.
Leonardo reached for a brick on the ground. Not much, but hey—Mario beat Bowser with less.
He turned to run—only to find another figure standing directly in his path. Masked. Silent. Cloaked in a heavy aura of dread.
"Oh crap."
WHACK.
The last thing Leonardo saw was a flash of black, then stars, then darkness. Like someone unplugged his brain mid-episode.
**...
...
...
Rebooting Consciousness.exe...**
Leonardo woke up strapped to a chair in a dimly lit room.
His head throbbed like he lost a boss fight. His limbs were numb, and his tongue tasted like someone microwaved ramen with battery acid.
He blinked slowly.
"...Not the worst hangover I've had," he muttered.
The room was stone, ancient-looking. Symbols etched in chalk lined the floor—some familiar, some clearly You-Die-If-You-Step-On-This™.
He tugged at his restraints. No dice. Whoever tied him up had played Legend of Zelda and took notes.
"Okay, okay... think. Got kidnapped by wand-wielding murder monks. Probably not here for my sparkling personality. Unless they're fans. Hey, you guys want an autograph?"
Silence.
Footsteps echoed in the hall beyond.
Leonardo looked up, eyes narrowing.
"Right. Interrogation arc. Let's do this, Voldemort Fan Club."