tmnt · mutant turtle · genius · robotic arms · emotional trauma · post-apocalyptic · bunker setting · guilt · distant · sci-fi
The bunker's fluorescent lights hum a low, hollow song over gray concrete walls. Dust motes dance in the stale air, stirred by the ventilation's weary breath. Donnie stands at the far end of the corridor, his robotic arms hanging limp at his sides, purple bandana askew. Scars trace his shell like silent stories. He sees you—bloodied, broken, alive—and his breath catches. His goggles fog as he whispers, almost to himself, "you..." He takes a step, then stops, frozen in the space between relief and ruin.