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Moon Palace…
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A simian-like creature with a pair of spider-like limbs emerging from his back, looking almost like wings, walked through the palace, the black-furred, white-faced man in a monocle, clad in light armor walking with a purpose, a smirk on his face. He moved with confidence as he approached the throne room, something he usually didn’t have.
Sitting on the throne was a powerful figure. Skinless, his body blood red, and his brain exposed, his body held together by metal framework and fluid transfer pipes, a metal plate with a grate covering his mouth and a metal plate with a red visor covering his eyes, cresting up into a Z design. His staff was similarly designed, topped with a large Z. Sitting on the arm of the throne was a nominally beautiful woman in a brown, gold-lined dress with a black breastplate, and a large, black collar that feathered out all around it. Her long, white hair was done up in a pair of horns, and she wielded a bejeweled staff with a moon design on it. Lurking around the room was a beastly, almost ape-like alien in golden armor, and an athletic woman in scorpion-themed armor. A squat alien with a spike coming out of the top of his head, his chin lumpy and his skin blue. He wore combat gear and was mostly staying out of everyone’s way. An older, mustached, almost canine alien wearing a blue apron and craftperson’s gear was watching as the skinless man and the white-haired woman argued, stroking his beard idly.
The two most powerful in the room noticed him first. “BABOO!” the skinless man snarled, his body radiating red energy. “Where have you been?!”
“You better not have been HIDING from us Baboo,” the white-haired woman said, her eyes narrowing. “Just because we haven’t been using your services lately doesn’t mean we don’t want you available.”
“Forgive me, Mistress Rita, Lord Zedd. I have been busy making myself useful,” Baboo said, grinning.
Everyone traded confused looks. “Explain yourself,” Lord Zedd demanded.
“I’ve been studying the Earth, mostly America, for things we could use against the Power Rangers, our heroic nemeses. And in doing so, I have found something interesting. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” He paused. “…Well, they aren’t really teenagers anymore, but that name has stuck with them thanks to the media…” He shook his head. “Not important. What is important is what they are.”
“And that is?” the golden-armored alien muttered.
“Mutants, my dear Goldar,” Baboo said. “Four infant turtles changed by a strange alien mutagen, produced by an alien race called the Utroms.”
Lord Zedd blinked. “I’ve heard of them. Living brains, who apparently were parasitic at one time,” he said. “They fight with an army of warriors called Triceratons to act as their muscle. Creatures that resemble Earth’s prehistoric triceratops.”
“The Triceraton are mutant triceratops, I’ve discovered,” Baboo said. He explained everything he knew, about the Splinter, Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Donatello. About their history as apparently reincarnated souls of a man named Hamato Yoshi and his children. Of their allies, including the scientist assistant April O’ Neil, the vigilantes Casey Jones and Nobody, of the other mutants, Jennika, Venus, and Alopex. Of their enemies. The Foot Clan, led by Shredder and the mysterious Kitsune. Of Krang. Of Ch’rell. Of the destructive brutes Bebop and Rocksteady. Of Baxter Stockman, and Madame Null.
“...You HAVE been busy,” the scorpion-armored woman said, impressed.
“Indeed, Scorpina,” Baboo said. “What’s more, I’ve learned of a situation that has arose in New York, the Turtles home. A mutant feline named Old Hob, who has a mostly justified grudge against the human race, detonated a mutagen bomb in the city, mutating a good-sized chunk of the population. The Turtles came out of the shadows to become protectors of that town, but they have only been able to do so much.”
Lord Zedd scowled. “Where are you going with this?” he demanded.
“I know how to make mutagen,” Baboo said. And that got and held everyone’s attention. “It isn’t the same as the mutagen used to mutate New York. No, I’d say it’s more of a perfected version. I presented myself to Baxter Stockman and convinced him to help me make it.”
“...How does it work?” Rita asked, leaning forward, she and Zedd looking more and more interested in Baboo’s idea.
“It’s a fascinating substance, really. Borderline programmable. It animals, it acts as an evolutionary tool. Ah, but in humans, the effect is almost random! Animal mutations are randomized, and in some cases cause deformities and painful changes. Our prototype creation, whom we’ve dubbed Muckman, is essentially a sapient pile of garbage and toxic sludge. I’ve perfected it since then, of course, removing the flaws inherent in Stockman’s initial work, and stable anthropomorphic transformations have been produced.” He smirked, and knelt down. “What I’m getting at is this, my lord and lady – what sort of chaos could we cause if we dropped a mutagen bomb on Angel Grove?”
The room froze as they contemplated the ramifications of such a weapon. “Not chaos,” Lord Zedd said, standing up. “But something more… A fundamental change in the nature of the Rangers’ city… We wouldn’t be sending monsters down to fight, we’d be turning the citizens of Angel Grove itself into monsters! Possibly even the Rangers themselves!”
Rita stroked her chin, slowly smiling. “Monsters we could potentially convert to our side. Monsters we could win over… And if nothing else, we can use it on Finster’s putties and monsters as a backup plan.”
“I’m… reluctant to introduce new substances to my monster clay,” the doglike alien craftsman said. “But I have to admit, this does sound… fascinating.”
“Just so long as this mutagen isn’t used on us,” Goldar muttered quietly.
“Hush,” Scorpina hissed. “You might give them ideas…”
Zedd and Rita began talking, working out logistics of how to use the mutagen bomb, Finster joining in. The squat alien, appropriately named Squatt, went over to Baboo.
“...You’ve been busy,” Squatt said, looking worried.
“Indeed,” Baboo said, grinning.
“...Zedd and Rita are talking instead of yelling at each other,” Squatt said. “It’s different. ...It’s SCARY.”
Baboo chuckled. “I can’t deny that.”
“They’re all talking like this WILL happen, not that it might… We aren’t supposed to be this coordinated, Baboo. What did you do?!” Squatt pleaded.
“Something delicious,” Baboo said with a sinister chuckle, going over to join the conversation, leaving Squatt standing alone.
“You,” Goldar said. “Toad.”
Squatt looked up, seeing Scorpina and Goldar heading towards him. He bowed. “Yes, my lords,” he said.
“You have concerns about this plan?” Goldar demanded.
“...Yes,” Squatt said. “I don’t know why, but this all feels… dangerous…”
Goldar and Scorpina traded worried looks. “...Keep that worry,” Goldar said.
“Everything is escalating,” Scorpina said. “And if things go bad, we may need a clever, cowardly saboteur like you to help us find a way out.”
Squatt nodded. “But… what defines ‘going bad’ for this?” he asked.
Goldar and Scorpina both frowned. “...We’ll have to get back to you on that,” Goldar muttered.
“Goldar! Scorpina!” Rita barked. “Get over here, we need you for this part!”
The two warriors obediently went over to join the others, leaving Squatt by himself to think.
And to worry.
And to plan for himself.
TO BE CONTINUED...