Contains season 3 finale spoilers. Seriously, this whole thing is about the ending of that episode. Just saying. Language (ish) and angst ahoy!

So, this is how it ends.That was all Tigerclaw could really think as he drifted impossibly slowly towards his death. No, not just his death. The death of everything, everyone. The death of the world. He never in his wildest dreams (and he had experienced many wild things) expected it to end with a black hole. He had always assumed he would die in combat, at the end of blade, more likely than not.

But, this was the end. That damned Saki. This was his fault. Many times before Tigerclaw had privately questioned his employer's need for vengeance, and now he regretted not listening to his instincts. He could not believe that a man could value his revenge so highly that he would doom the world to get it. Tigerclaw had his own need for vengeance, but he would never do something so foolish.

He had drifted closer, now. He could feel it, as his death loomed above him. He remembered, in his last few moments before being crushed to atoms in the span of a second, the few happier moments that his life had had. His mother, her face fuzzy in his mind, but the feelings clear as she held him in her arms; his first love, who had never even known of his existence; his circus family, the one bright spot in his otherwise dismal childhood in the circus;his pride at his first successful hunt. His life truly flashed before his eyes, and he briefly thought that even his worst moments would be welcomed right now, so long as he would live.

But, in the end Tigerclaw was a warrior, and he died as such. Grim and emotionless, showing no fear as he finally drifted into that abyss that swallowed the world whole.

His master had killed him. Rahzar formerly Dogpound formerly Bradford had seen the ending and beginning of many different lives, but now they were all ending without a hope of restarting again. And, though he could scarcely conceive it in his fiercely loyal mind, his master had done it.

He had the treacherous thought that his master had been a fool, that his feud with Hamato Yoshi had not been worth this. But, his nature, both originally and acquired through mutation, shook the thought aside, as he comforted himself that at least he had always stayed by his master's side. If he saw fit to end the world for his vengeance, then Bradford had no place to argue. He still vaguely wished, though, as he was inches from his fate, that he did not have to die for it.

He was too young to die! Xever's life had always been one for seeking pleasure. He did what he wanted, took what he wanted, and lived the way he wanted. Inside, as he clung to the tree for all he was worth, he cursed the Shredder for ending his life when there was still so much he wanted to do. For having him die as a fish, instead of the man he had still hoped that he would be again. He owed the Shredder, but he did not owe him this!

When it came down to it, Xever did not have the undying loyalty of Bradford. He only had a debt to pay, and a position to fill to pay it that happened to appeal to him. So he kicked, and screamed, and resisted, and struggled against the impossible force that seeked to claim him. When Bradford clung to him, he didn't spare any pity and kicked him off, not wanting to be dragged into that dark hole above. He would survive this. He had survived the rest of his life, alone and a child on the streets. He didn't give in willingly to death then, and he wouldn't now. Xever died fighting and screaming, a survivor and a liver-of-life pit against a force that none could survive.

Oh, shit. Oh lordy,lord, holy hell, he was going to die. He couldn't help it or stop it as a panicked, high pitched squeal peeled out of him. He didn't want to die. Anton Zek might not have known a lot of things outside of thievery, but he knew this fact plain and clear. He did NOT want to die. Call him a coward, but death was something he actively tried to avoid. Death was the whole reason he had his special suit. The more powerful he was, the less he felt that death could happen to him. But now there was a freaking space hole in the sky, and it seemed like he was going to die no matter how powerful his suit was.

He had thought that he couldn't handle it when he had been mutated. That had felt like the end of the world at the time. Now, faced with the actual end of the world, the terror of mutation seemed like a childish fear, as silly as believing in monsters under the bed. What was life as a pig? At least that was a life, even if he lived under constant death threats from both the Shredder and the other Foot mutants. He couldn't stop the tears that poured from his face, and then were sucked into the emptiness above. So much time spent dancing out of death's reach, only to be killed by force that he could not dodge, distract, annoy, or hide from. There was no escape this time.

Of all the things that could have killed him, it had to be some giant hole in the sky. Rocksteady, as he had come to call himself now, wished that he could have a least died at the hands of something that had hands. At least then he could have gone down with a fight, maybe even a worthy fight. He halfway wouldn't have minded that, losing against a good fighter. He was a brawler at heart, no matter how much he had to act the fancy part with the money that he made in (mostly illegal) arms dealing. He always wore his brass knuckles to show this,so that even when he was making deals, and shaking hands, he could still feel like a fighter.

He supposed this was why he had accepted his mutant fate easier than Zek had. Being a mutant, he no longer had to put on an image of culture and manners, of business skills and pointless talk. He was free to act like he really wanted to, to get into a fight just for the heck of it, to go all in with fists or horn.

So this particular death was not one he would have preferred. He couldn't take this death and punch it in the face, he couldn't charge it and gore it, he could do nothing. It equal parts infuriated and terrified him.

Baxter had no idea what was going on. The entire rest of the clan had left some time ago, with that rat Hamato Yoshi. Baxter was not asked along, and honestly had had no desire to go into combat. His desires were really very simple these days. He was content just to have his work and some garbage. If he had the occasional chocolate bar, that was an especially pleasant day.

So when he happened to look out of the window and see buildings floating into the air, he double-taked to make sure his compound eyes weren't deceiving him. Obviously, those boar-headed imbeciles had managed to screw something up. He honestly hadn't thought that the Shredder's other henchman were that moronic, but obviously he had been wrong.

When he noticed that the destruction only expanded, he rushed out of the building, and flew as fast as his wings would take him. He didn't care where he was going, as long as it was in the opposite direction of that thing. He did not stop to think about what the Shredder would say, for he knew without thinking that the Shredder was dead. He just flew, faster than he had ever attempted to fly before. The smell of panic, death, and destruction was overwhelming. His fly senses wanted to stop, comfortable around the scent of decay, but he didn't even pause in his panicked flight.

He risked a glance behind him, and momentarily fell out of his flight in terror as the destruction only expanded. Half of what was once New York was gone. So he continued to fly, although something in him knew that become part of that destruction was inevitable.

His wings ached, now, like they never had before. Never once since obtaining this hideous form had he flown so far,or so hard. But the chaos had not stopped, and so neither had he. The feeling continued to grow that this was a fool's hope, and that he was only leading himself to exhaustion before a quick and painful death. But the instinct to survive was strong, even in one as weak as Baxter Stockman. So he continued to fly.

He was falling behind. Or, maybe, the end of the world was catching up. Either way, he now had to dodge debris as he continued onwards. He never could have calculated for something like this. He laughed cynically to himself. In the end, his brilliant mind could do nothing but come up with the strategy of any animal. Flee. Survive. But by now, the man fully understood. This was the end of the world, and he would end with it no matter how much or how fast he flew. And he was flying slower, finding it more difficult to avoid the building pieces, sidewalks, fire hydrants...people. He was no lover of humanity, but he couldn't help but find it disturbing as people were sucked into the darkness above, only to disappear. For a terrifying breath, his wings stopped, pushed beyond their normal limit, and he was instantly sucked towards the hole above. He flapped desperately, overcome by the need to escape, to survive, but he was fully in the black hole's unwavering grasp.

"No. No no no no no!"He screamed, buzzed, hissed, cursed in every language that he knew, all while flapping frantically as he inched closer and closer to the waiting void. And so ended the last member of the once great Foot clan.

Shredder's job complete, the Foot's vengeance taken, one by one all of its members vanished, disappearing along with the ninja clan's goal. The Foot was no more, along with the ninjas of the world, the humans, the animals, and in a surprisingly short amount of time, the Earth itself vanished into the abyss.

And..finished. Whew, that was a lot of doom and destruction. How crazy was that finale, right? First time even remotely thinking about writing Rocksteady, but I took a jab at it, and wrote something I thought seemed logical (ish) for his character. I don't know, what do you think? R&R, I really appreciate it.