Hiroki meditated for a bit before his mission. He just sat in the middle of the room, breathing in and out slowly, settling his nerves. Once done, he opened his eyes and stood up. “Here we go,” he said. As he was leaving, Xiomara kissed him.
“Good luck, mi amor,” she said.
“Always, my dear,” replied Hiroki.
“Oto-san,” called Sora. “If you need hope, don’t hesitate to call me or Gabriella, okay?”
“Will do, son,” promised Hiroki. He headed out to meet his team, consisting of Agus, Barbara, Elgrad, Endea, Fordelam, Jazz, Katrina, Laserbeak, Leemii, Michael, Nightbird, Pestilence, Ravage, Shade, Shockwave, Silver, Sweemar, Teefmanam, Tom, Twaldar, and War. “Minna, we’re the last team,” he said to everyone. “We NEED to secure Order and her Source. And once we do…we’ll frustrate the Author’s plans even further. And we WILL win! I can see it!” Everyone cheered at the speech.
“Rift’s open for T-M-N-T!” called Rosadera.
“Minna, ikuze!” called Hiroki. Everyone followed him into the rift!
The team ended up in New York City, Times Square specifically. It was nighttime, but that didn’t really matter for the City That Never Sleeps. People saw the rift! “ALIENS!” yelped one.
“It’s gotta be those Triceratons!” said another.
“No way! That was a portal!” replied a third. “It’s another Utrom invasion! Kraang must have sent them!”
“I though Ch’Rell was in charge!” called a fourth.
“I think we better get out of here!” Jazz advised Hiroki.
“Minna, hide!” called Hiroki. Everyone ran from the gathering mob to find some cover. They found it in an abandoned garage with enough space for all Transformers to rest in vehicle mode and switch on their holo-forms.
“…Triceratons?” muttered Nightbird as everyone caught their breath. “Utrom? …I swear I heard those words before.”
“Same here,” replied Agus.
“We’ll figure out that mystery later,” said Hiroki. “Right now, we need to get information on Order and her Source. …And I’m sorry to say, my Transformer friends, your alt-modes are too advanced for this era. This is definitely 21st century New York.”
“Tovarishchi,” said Ravage, “I’ve found a news article from about a week ago.” He started reading the online article’s title aloud. “‘Yōkai Mafia panic city! Police Shakeup as Big Mama Joro strikes again!’”
“Big Mama Joro? Yōkai?” asked Hiroki. “Wait, so they’re NOT just myths from my home?!”
“Not in this universe, apparently,” replied Ravage. “Big Mama Joro is the head of a whole Mafia gang consisting of Yōkai. Like many of Asian descent, Yōkai are the subject of mockery, so the Yōkai Mafia was formed in an attempt to protect Yōkai. But, nowadays, they’re giving the impression that all Yōkai are criminals.”
“Great, more racism to deal with,” muttered Hiroki.
“A staple of the human race,” remarked Shockwave, “and not exclusive to straight, white, male Americans.”
“…Explain the Organiphobes in our respective factions,” replied Jazz.
“Now’s not the time to discuss this,” interjected Hiroki. “We need to find Order and…War?”
“Someone’s in here with us,” replied War. Everyone stood up and the Riders brought their belts out…which were promptly knocked out of their hands by kunai.
“…Ninjas. Lovely,” muttered Hiroki. He was then grabbed from behind and pulled into the shadows. Everyone else assumed a combat form.
Hiroki managed to wiggle himself free in the shadows and face his attacker. “If you’re a ninja that runs wild like Shuriken Sentai-!”
“What?! Dude!” protested the ninja in a distinctly surfer-dude voice. “No way! Those guys are a TERRIBLE Sentai team! And terrible ninjas!”
“…Okay, but now your accent-.” Hiroki didn’t get very far as he had to leap out of the way of the ninja’s nunchucks. “Questions for later!” Hiroki fought off his attacker as best he could. He then grabbed his attacker’s full-face mask and yanked it off. “All right, let’s see who you are, you c-c-c-c-k-k-k………KAME?!” Looking right at him was a green turtle’s head complete with beak!
“Well, you got that right,” said the turtle. “You know how many people call me a Kappa? Do I have a pie dish on my head?!”
“Wait a minute…ninjas…humanoid turtles…you have nunchuks…” Hiroki then looked at the mask and saw orange highlights around the eye holes of the mask. “…Michaelangelo?!”
“…You…know me?!” yelped the turtle.
“…I think our teams made a big mistake!” Hiroki rushed out to see his team fighting two other ninja turtles, one with two katanas and blue around the eye holes, the other with a bo staff and purple around the eyeholes. “MINNA! YAME!” shouted Hiroki. The fighting stopped.
“Stop?! What for?! We were just attacked!” protested Silver.
“By a team that thought us a threat to the people they’re protecting in the first place!” replied Hiroki.
“Yeah, bros,” Michaelangelo addressed his teammates, “I don’t think they’re bad guys here. We just got a mondo misunderstanding here.”
“You’re sure about that?” asked the bo-wielder.
“Donnie, this is Mikey we’re talking about,” said the katana-wielder as he sheathed his weapons. “He’s the guy in tune with emotions. He’s our best read on the subject. Even Raph turns to him at times.” The katana-wielder then removed his mask. “I’m Hamato Leonardo, and these are my brothers, Michaelangelo and Donatello.”
“Hey, dudes and dudettes!” called Michaelangelo. The bo-wielder, Donatello, removed his mask.
“Salutations,” he said.
“…No way!” realized Tom.
“Yes!” replied Hiroki. “Universe T-M-N-T!”
“Then this is the home universe for the Adolescent Genetically altered Shinobi Terrapins,” remarked Shockwave.
“We just met the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!” cheered Jazz.
“I believe I just said that,” said Shockwave.
“So, you’re NOT Kraang’s minions or Foot Ninjas?” asked Leonardo.
“No, but our quest DOES lead us across the multiverse,” replied Hiroki.
In another part of the city, a Japanese businessman and his elegantly-dressed wife approached their limo. They were known as Mr. and Mrs. Oroku, heads of the New York Branch of the Technological Cosmic Research Institute. On the surface, they did much for their American home. But, much like their marriage, it was all a front. Mr. Oroku kissed his wife as he helped her into the limo, but there was no love in either of their eyes. Mr. Oroku sat in the limo after he helped his wife into it. “The office,” he directed the driver.
“Away we go, Mr. O!” replied the driver. The Orokus blinked.
“…‘Mr. O’?” asked Mrs. Oroku. “Sampson?”
“Oh, Sampson had a little…accident.” The limo driver then shimmered and turned into…well, the Orokus could only assume some form of green person. The person hit the gas and sped through New York! An impressive feat, given the traffic there that particular Friday night!
“All right, mister!” snarled Mrs. Oroku as her teeth sharpened and dripped with a vile, green liquid. “I don’t know what your gimmy-game is, but I promise you’ll pay dearly for this!”
“You’re dead, DO YOU HEAR ME?!” roared Mr. Oroku as he slipped on a pair of blades mounted to the back of his hand. He punched through the window separating him from the driver and yanked on the steering wheel. The limo went careening into a junkyard, then was surrounded! The person unlocked the limo’s doors and Mr. and Mrs. Oroku jumped out. The attackers stepped into the light to reveal Deceptitran, Rodimus Unicronus, Sideways, and Straxus in robot mode.
“Oh, lovely, some of those…those Shape-formers to rip limb from limbity-limb!” said Mrs. Oroku.
“Transformers,” corrected Mr. Oroku. “Possibly of that Decepticon variety.”
“Not DECEPTI-cons,” corrected the green person, Tormo, as he stepped out of the limo. “TERROR-cons. I do apologize for this, Oroku Saki and Oroku Kumiko…or rather, Shredder and Big Mama Joro, but I believe I have a deal for you.”