The arm tilted, the liquid pouring into a beaker below filled with an amber liquid. The purple floated on top of the amber, wobbling gently. The coloured division between the chemicals crackled, bubbles of amber rising into the purple. The amber liquid frothed under the purple one, multiple bubbles surfacing. The purple liquid turned solid, freezing with the temperature of the amber liquid. Then all was still.

Jumba opened one of his four eyes, checking the substances. He saw it, and then sighed with relief again.

"(Good, has turned to harmless solid…)" he laughed to himself. He pressed another button on the remote. A plasma coil descended from the ceiling, sending a jolt of electricity into the mixture. The liquids flashed a bright yellow, fusing together. The light dimmed, revealing a small, yellow pod. Jumba came around the shield and picked it up.

"Experiment…" he said, taking out a laser-pen. He burned three numbers onto the surface of it, marking it. "700." He said finally, pocketing the pen. "Heh, is new personal record…" He muttered, walking over to the water container.

Several light-years away, Five years previous.

"(I swear, if that goddamn furball doesn't shut his yap, I'll rip his voicebox out and force-feed it to his gnome!)" Snarled 555, aka Rycon, complaining about 192/Mouth. (For the sake of this, let's call him 555.)

He walked into the bedroom and sat down, pulling a clawed hand down his face in stress. He breathed in quicker, starting to feel the stifling heat. He looked over to his usual coolant-filled syringe.

"Oh, how I love this part(!)" he said with monotone sarcasm, picking up the needle. He looked for and found the entry point on his arm. He manoeuvred the point between two of his scarlet scales, not wanting to snap one in half.

He held his breath and stabbed it into his skin. He didn't want to admit it, but that was one of the only things that actually hurt him. He pressed the end of the syringe, slightly gritting his teeth.

"(Aah…)" he sighed, smiling in relief to himself as coolness washed over him. He looked around in case Mouth or Luna came in, then added to himself;

"(Anyone coming in would think I'm on something.)" He laughed slightly, retracting the needle.

'555.'

555 tensed, baring his teeth, searching for the person. He flicked his tongue out and tasted the air. Just Mouth's dirt-like tang.

'555, I am not here.'

"Well, where are you then?!?" he snarled, looking around.

'I am elsewhere.'

"That helps(!)"

'555, I need your help.'

"Oh really?" he said in mock politeness, looking up for somewhere to look.

'Do you know the name "552"?'

555 was silent for a few seconds.

"Do I know 552? OF COURSE I KNOW 552!!!!" He yelled, body-temperature rising. "HE'S THE BASTARD WHO'S PUT ME THROUGH UNIMAGINALBE, HORRIFIC, BLINDING TORTURE!!! HE'S THE GUY WHO'S HAUNTED MY NIGHTMARES FOR YEARS!!!! OF COURSE I KNOW HIM!!!!!! IF I EVER SEE HIM AGAIN, I'LL ERADICATE, EXTERMINATE, OBLITERATE, ANNIHILATE AND ELIMINATE THAT BASTARD!!!!!!!!!" He opened his mouth wide, panting quickly.

'…A simple "yes" would have sufficed.'

555 growled at the voice.

'I need your help in destroying him.'

"…destroy 552?" snorted 555, looking away. "Look, whoever-the-heck-you-are, plenty of people have tried and failed. And ended up being slowly tortured by the homicidal maniac."

'I will not fail.'

"Uh-huh?" he said sceptically, looking at his fingers. "Someone said that a few years ago. Named Psyche. Look what happened to her."

'Will you help me?'

555 looked round his room, thinking. Finally, he shrugged.

"Whatever. Not like I've got anything to lose by hanging around this dump."

'Thank you.'

"Whatever!" he snarled, waving the voice off. "Now shove off! You've got me overheated as it is!" He walked back to the syringe for another dose. He picked it up, re-filled it with coolant, and then moved the point to his arm. He noticed, where he was going to stick the needle, a tiny speck of bright light.

"(What the Blitznack…?)" He wondered, putting the syringe down. Then he saw another part of his arm start to shine from between a gap between his scarlet scales. Then another, and another. Soon, his scales were lit up by an under-light.

"Five?" said a voice from the door. Luna peered round the door-frame, camera swinging on her neck strap.

"Hmm." She said to herself. "I could have sworn he came in here…"

"Now to be activating it." Said Jumba, putting the pod in a three-clawed device, and suspending it over the container of water. He pushed a button on the remote, a plastic-like shield descending from the ceiling, over the container and pod. He sighed and put his hand over the button. If his calculations were wrong this time…

"Whacha doing, Flabby?" Jumba yelped at the voice, the remote sipping out of his fingers. He caught it, just. He turned and glared at 000.

"I have told you time and time again, NEVER sneak up on evil genius when he is evil genius-ing!" he snarled, staring at his 'best' experiment.

"And I have told you time and time again, I never listen to you." He said simply, walking up to the pod. He studied it with mild interest. "Hmm. Why 700?" he asked, glancing at Fat-boy.

"I am partially forgetting what number of experiments I have been creating." He said defensively. "So I pick random number."

"And you call yourself a 'Genius'." He said, air quoting at him. "Kinda pathetic if you ask me."

"Nobody is asking you." Frowned Jumba, grabbing 000 by the fur on his neck. He picked him up and dropped him outside the door. "Be leaving me alone!" He slammed the door shut.

"'Nobody is asking you!'" said 000 in a bad Russian accent, sneering at the door. "What a Nala-Kweesta." He walked down the steps of the house, formally owned by the Pekekai's, and outside onto the beach.

Hopefully, I got 000's attitude down right.