Leonardo, who had been quietly sharpening his katanas nearby, looked up with a small smile. He watched the digital versions of themselves navigate a 2D rooftops level, jumping over water towers and kicking Mousers into oblivion. It was a strange mirror—a relic of a time when their world felt a little simpler, even if the stakes were just as high.

The neon glow of Manhattan’s skyline didn't reach the damp brickwork of the sewers, but for Michelangelo, the blue light of a salvaged CRT monitor was more than enough.

"I’m telling you guys, it’s a classic," Mikey chirped, his thumbs blurring over a grease-stained controller. "Old-school 2003 vibes. This is how the legends were made!"

Donatello cracked his knuckles, a competitive glint in his eye. "Give me five minutes and a soldering iron. If we’re going back to 2003, we’re doing it as a team."