Jack’s decision to engage the zombie turtle people came surprisingly easy. Strategically, it seemed like a bad idea to leave a certain threat behind them when they still didn’t know what lay ahead. Beyond that, the sight of the bodies of Ada and Tron only reinforced the rising guilt she felt for those she’d lost along the way. Even though they were dead, she hated the thought of leaving their bodies behind to be playthings for the perverse monstrosities. She passed her plan to the others, keeping her voice low enough to avoid being heard by the creatures. “We sneak in, get close,” she told them. “Wait for my signal and then take these fuckers down.” She saw shockingly little hesitation or reluctance among her group. Looks like they’re just as sick of this place as I am, she thought. A bit of revenge’ll feel good for all of us right about now.

Jack crept further down the tunnel, shotgun at the ready. The turtle-man fucking Ada was closest, making him her first target. Even lying on his back, the katana he had marked him as the most dangerous in terms of weapon potential. With the squad of turtle-men engrossed in violating their macabre playthings, Jack’s crew managed to sneak up on them without drawing any attention to themselves. Jack lifted her shotgun and took aim, finger sliding over the trigger.

Leonardo’s zombified brain was significantly duller than it had been before his corruption. If he’d still been alive, Jack and the others would never have been able to get the drop on him and his squad of Zombie Mutant Ninja Turtles. But with the blend of lust and hunger constantly consuming him, he was transfixed by the limp doll perched atop his crotch. The woman’s short black hair swaying with each hard pump he made into her, the death-cooled grip of her cum-slicked snatch sliding up and down the long length of his smooth member. The way her perky tits jiggled with each bounce he forced her to make. He was nearing yet another release, flexing his thick arms to make Ada dance on top of him faster, when he – finally – caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

While Leonardo’s brain may have been dulled, his reflexes were still good enough to twist Ada’s body towards his attacker, shielding himself from Jack’s initial shot. At close range, the buckshot devastated Ada’s mostly pristine corpse. The blast shredded through her back, ripping those perky tits to pieces. Her arms ripped off, flung to the side, as her head snapped back on its broken neck, the flesh of her throat sheering away to send the head tumbling towards Jack’s planted feet. With the lower half of Ada’s body still clinging to him, cunt stretched taut around his pulsing prick, Leonardo struggled to get to his feet. His movements were slowed by the sudden orgasm that struck him, squirting a watery seed into the depths of Ada’s snatch as Jack pumped her weapon and adjusted her aim. “Get fucked, scumbag,” the tattooed woman growled before squeezing the trigger a second time, transforming Leonardo’s head into a wad of gory paste.

Jack backpedaled as soon as the headless turtle-fuck’s corpse flopped back to the floor, twitching and humping into Ada’s lower half. She felt a wave of nausea roll through her as she spotted the bulbous head of the thing’s dick pushing up through the torn midsection of the woman, spewing creamy spunk across tangles of guts. The blasts from her weapon had drawn the attention of the others, although she was glad to see they were moving just a little sluggishly as well, seemingly annoyed that their necrophiliac games were being interrupted. She stayed alert, looking for the best spot to lend her assistance as the rest of her crew moved in to join the attack.

Donatello shoved Tron’s corpse away from him, stiff prick popping free from her gaping asshole, and rose to face the red-and-blue-clad blonde advancing on him. He drew his staff and engaged her, his movements awkward and stilted with the bobbing length of his erection jutting from his crotch. Kara was far from full strength, both due to the effects of the Necrotic field blocking the precious sunlight she required to charge her powers as well as the prolonged stay underground, but she still possessed enough of her enhanced abilities to go toe-to-toe with the turtle-man. She brought her arm up, blocking Donnie’s staff. It was a hard hit, enough to leave behind a nasty bruise across her weakened skin, but far from crippling. Looping her arm around the long weapon, Kara yanked it free from the turtle’s grip. She hopped back, bringing the staff up horizontally before her before slamming it down against the top of her rising knee, snapping the hardened wood with relative ease. She chucked the pieces aside and rushed back in, dodging the swipe of Donnie’s large, three-fingered fist and slipping around behind him.

His body was bulky, even bulkier thanks to the thick shell covering his back, but Kara managed to work an arm around the turtle-man’s neck, pulling back hard. Killing went against her nature, but the Necropolis demanded a certain hardness to survive. It helped to think that this creature, wherever it had come from, was only technically alive, resurrected by an evil force and puppeteered into committing heinous acts. Kara kept that thought at the front of her mind, willing herself to believe it fully, as she yanked back hard enough to crush Donnie’s throat. Clenching her teeth, Kara jerked back again, snapping the turtle-man’s neck and putting an end to whatever corruption of life still remained in his reanimated body. Even with her mental reassurances, she still felt a pang of guilt as she let the limp carcass drop to the ground.

Raphael had responded a bit faster than the other turtles, shoving April’s body into Michelangelo’s hands and lumbering towards the small group of women. The quickness of his movements, paired with the deadly sharpness of his sais, made him the next target Jack fixed on. Samus and Quorra joined her, helping to divide the zombie turtle’s attention between them. Despite the slow rot of his undead body, Raph managed to maintain a frustrating spryness, backflipping away to avoid a blast from Jack’s shotgun and ducking below a shot from Samus’s pistol. He twisted to the side, deflecting the glowing edge of Quorra’s disc with his shell. Dropping low, Raph spun to face his attackers and flung one of his sais, the weapon flying fast and steady. Jack’s eyes went wide, seeing the sai rushing towards her face. She jerked her head back, knowing it would not be enough to save her. Samus’s hand shot up, fingers closing around the blade, catching it with only a mere inch or so between the glistening tip and Jack’s nose.

Jack didn’t allow the close brush with death slow her, shifting the barrel of her shotgun and firing in response. The buckshot tore through Raph’s gut, knocking him back and dropping him onto his hands and knees and rancid lengths of cold turtle innards spilled from his torn belly. His large hand dropped to his side, pulling his remaining sai up, readying another attack. Before he could, Quorra rushed up to his side, disc in hand, and brought it down over the back of his neck. The oddly shaped turtled head fell away from the stuttering body, rolling awkwardly across the tunnel floor as the rest of him collapsed into the pile of intestines leaking out of him.

Only Michelangelo remained. He’d dumped April’s body, groaning as her slick, dead cunt sloshed away from his aching member. Dot and Ellie advanced on him, not as boldly as the others. Their limited – borderline nonexistent – combat training made them cautious, but with only a pair of nunchucks at his disposal, he seemed to be a relatively easier target compared to the others. It was hard to tell of Mikey’s backstepping was a sign of cleverness or cowardice, but Dot and Ellie pursued him all the same, giving him few chances to attack back while they searched for a means of dispatching him. The pistol in Dot’s hand was small, but it still felt heavy and awkward in her grip. Aiming was difficult, especially in the midst of trying to avoid getting brained by the sweeps of the turtle-thing’s nunchucks, but she managed to sink a couple of rounds into the soft meat of Mikey’s forearm and abdomen. It was enough to slow him, but not stop him.

Ellie stepped to the side, noticing the turtle was more fixed on trying to bring Dot down than her. She took advantage of it, angling a shot with her plasma cutter that neatly severed one of the creature’s hands at the wrist. The three-fingered hand dropped to the floor, still clinging to the nunchuck. She shifted the aim of her weapon higher and fired, but the turtle managed to duck back in time to avoid the decapitating blast. Ellie could only assume the thing was confused and hurt when it dropped its remaining weapon and pulled a thin metal rod from his belt. The thing wasn’t large enough to be an effective weapon. Ellie smirked and tried to line up a clean kill shot. “Idiot,” she muttered.

Mikey’s fat finger mashed against the small button on the side of the metal rod, igniting a blinding streak of yellow light nearly three feet in length. The sudden light stunned the women, as did Mikey’s sudden lunge. Ellie fired, missing the turtle’s face for the second time. She made an attempt to adjust her aim and fire again, but the thing moved too quickly to stop his attack. Dot’s lips parted, releasing a shocked gasp as the searing blade of Bastilla Shan’s lightsaber came down against the top of her forehead. Her body snapped rigid as Mikey cleaved downwards, slicing smoothly through the young woman’s face and down through her chest, finally exiting her crotch. Dot’s pistol slid from her numb fingers, wide eyes staring blankly as the cauterized line of damage down her body gave off small wafts of smoke. Her left and right side peeled apart, exposing the bisected organs within her. Her sliced clothing fluttered away, providing the turtle a tantalizing view of her breasts before the two halves flopped to the ground.

The speed with which Dot had died was a shocking example of what the weapon could do. When Mikey turned towards Ellie, slashing at her midsection, the woman jumped back and fired her plasma cutter in response. The flash of blue-white energy struck the glowing blade, managing to deflect it back. The turtle cocked the lightsaber back, ready to launch another attack. The combined force of Jack’s shotgun and Samus’s pistol tore through his chest, opening up gaping wounds. Ellie leveled her cutter and squeezed the trigger, again and again, tearing the creature into as many pieces as she could until the heat of the weapon forced her to stop. She stumbled back, panting heavily, unable to keep her eyes from fixing on Dot’s remains, far too aware that she’d come very close to winding up equally dead.

At least it was quick, she thought. Jesus, is that the best we can hope for in this hell?

With the fight over, Jack allowed everyone to take a short rest. Another encounter, another one of us dead, she thought angrily as she looked over the remains of the now four women draped amidst the corpses of the turtle-men. She left the turtles where they lay, but took the time to scoop up the others, laying them out side by side. The tattered, stained sheets she found stuffed into a small side tunnel smelled awful, looked even worse, but it seemed at least marginally more respectful than letting the women’s bodies lay exposed. She draped the sheets over them, doing her best not to look at any of their faces. Even the body of the woman she’d never known seemed to stare up at her accusingly. It’s not my fucking fault, she thought back at the bodies. I’m doing the fucking best I can, goddammit.

She believed that, mostly. But the ordeal was getting to her. She checked with Quorra to review the sewer map she’d downloaded, only mildly comforted by the knowledge that it would be a relatively short, straight shot from where they were to the exit. “Alright,” she called to the remaining few women. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”