Chapter 10: Tonic of the Doomed
"A very successful business venture, Mr. Doom."
"I wholeheartedly agree, Mirovich. My company Cloverleaf looks forward to any future...relations with your outfit."
"Yes, yes!"
"How about a drink?"
"Most graciously."
Judge Doom delightedly reached under the table and produced a bottle of gin and several glasses. Clicking his fingers the Toon Patrol, fulfilling the roll of servers, began distributing the glasses among their guests, the Russian arms dealers the Red Stars.
In the warehouse across from the dining area Doom marveled his latest acquisitions bought with money from Cloverleaf. A dozen Soviet grade missiles packed away in crates and ready to be shipped out of Toontown to the Acme factory. Once there the missiles would be equipped with special warheads of Doom's own design.
Not only the missiles, but the Doombringer—Doom's child of destruction—was nearly complete. Only one test cycle remained until he unleashed the machine's wrath upon Toontown.
Doom loved it when a plan came together.
He handed the gin bottle to Viktor Mirovich, the ringleader of the Red Stars and the judge's primary connection to the illegal arms race gripping the international underworld.
Viktor Mirovich was a brawny man sporting graying muttonchops, old battle scars, and army fatigues. Sadly the arms leaders was as dumb as his muscles. Mirovich and his associates only saw Doom at face value as the CEO of Cloverleaf and a competent, albeit creepy, judge of the law. Of course the arms leader wasn't the only one in Hollywood who only viewed Doom at face value. No one suspected that "Judge Doom" was just one of many personas implemented throughout the years to further his plans.
Mirovich tapped the bottle. "Ah, yes! 1905. An excellent year and perfect for celebrations. Don't you agree boys!"
Mirovich's associates, less boisterous arms dealers, muttered agreement with their hardy leader.
The arms leader returned the bottle to Doom, who then handed it off to Smarty.
Smarty growled at Doom like a caged animal. "How much longer do we have to put up with this charade, Boss?"
"Not much longer, Smarty," Doom replied in a whisper. "I'm just buttering up Mirovich, getting him relaxed. The transformation is easier when the subject is at ease."
"Eh, if you say so," Smarty looked down at his feminine attire. "Why do I have to wear a dress? You promised to draw me a new zoot suit."
Among the Toon Patrol weasels Smarty was the only one dressed in a frilly, black waitress outfit. He differed greatly from his brothers, especially suave Greasy, who were all sharply dressed in tuxedos and platform shoes.
"I just assumed you liked dresses considering you were wearing a sundress," Doom said.
Smarty blushed, wringing his hands. "Well it did show off my legs...But I feel more confident in a good suit."
The judge sighed. "Fine. After our guests have been served I promise to draw you a new suit."
"Pink?"
Doom groaned. "Yes, pink."
Grinning ear to ear, Smarty took the gin bottle and began pouring drinks, an excited smile plastered on his weaselly face.
"You surround yourself with toons as your associates," Mirovich commented, staring at Smarty hungrily. "That one weasel cartoon serving the drinks—Rawr!"
"Um, that's a male," Doom informed.
Mirovich suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Oh."
"Back to your comment. Yes, toons make excellent servants. I find these weasels fit the criteria for...certain jobs that require professional know how," Doom explained.
The arms leader nodded. "Interesting."
Secretly Doom was growing to detest the Toon Patrol. The weasel brothers proved absolutely useless in the capture of Roger Rabbit and finding the elusive Acme will. Their recent stint at the Terminal Station Bar further proved an inability to properly fight as team. Valiant and especially Sharpe had proven themselves more than capable against a gaggle of weasels. Each weasel bore a distinct characters trait that corrupted the patrol overall; Wheezy smoked too much, Stupid was plain stupid, Psycho rarely paid attention, Greasy was overly perverted, and lately Smarty was becoming confused about his gender. All in all the Toon Patrol needed a major overall, or replacements.
Doom looked around at the Red Stars.
These men would make excellent replacements to the Toon Patrol and would add necessary muscle that the current patrol lacked. The Red Stars only required a bit of persuading.
When Smarty returned with the gin bottle Doom poured himself a glass as well. He raised his glass to Mirovich and his associates.
"To the Red Star and the future of animation! Cheers!"
"Cheers, Mr. Doom," Mirovich laughed.
The judge and arms leader clinked glasses, then everyone down their gin.
From the warehouse doorway the Toon Patrol watched anxiously for the fireworks to begin. They had seen Doom succumb to the transformation time and again
"Duh, when will it start?" Stupid picked his nose and wiped his finger on the hem of Smarty's dress.
"Hey not the dress!" Smarty yelled, cleaning the gunk off his skirt.
"Very soon, muchacho," Greasy said to Stupid. "At least we won't have to be the ones to transport all those missiles."
Wheezy lit a cigar. "Agreed. Nothing like dumb muscle to do the job for you."
Mirovich set down his glass. Licking his lips he relished the sweet flavor.
"You like it now..." Doom trailed.
Two minutes later the arms dealer began feeling a change. First Mirovich's arm trembled, then his other arm, then his legs. Soon his entire body trembled. Rising Mirovich lurched toward the backdoor of the warehouse. Every heave of the stuffy warehouse air turned into a struggle. He reached for the door handle and discovered he couldn't grab it. His hand was turning rubbery, the refined human shape slowly mutating into pudgy toon hands. His skin took on a waxy sheen.
Around the table the other arms dealers were slumped over their drinks, slowly morphing like their leader.
Mirovich looked from the grinning Toon Patrol, then to the judge.
"What did you do to us?" he demanded.
Doom retrieved the gin bottle and peeled off the fanciful label. Underneath the false label in bold green lettering the bottle read "Toon Tonic".
"The toonification is quite jarring the fist time, Viktor," said Doom. "Trust me I felt the same way when I first drank Toon Tonic; although, once it's over you will be as happy as a clown."
"Why did you do this? You got the missiles," Mirovich hacked. Already his human mug was reshaping to extreme, toony proportions.
Across the room the rest of the Red Stars moaned, writhing on the floor in the throes of toonification.
Doom shrugged. "I needed someone to transport the missiles out of Toontown, and you and your men fit the bill."
"Doooom! You'll pay for this!" Mirovich cried, pounding a fist into the floor.
"Doubt that. Once the transformation wraps up you'll be obedient to me," said Doom.
And with that Doom and the Toon Patrol withdrew from the warehouse and shut the back door on the doomed Red Stars.
"We'll let the process carry out," said Doom. "When it is over Wheezy will direct the loading of the missiles. As for the rest of you—"
He looked over Smarty, Greasy, Stupid, and Psycho hesitantly. Because of their failures, he hated to trust the patrol with another task. Really he had no choice.
"—Valiant and Sharpe will likely catch on to our operations and thwart us."
"You want us to patrol the streets? Boss, Valiant doesn't have the guts to come to Toontown, not after what you did to his brother," Smarty snapped.
Doom shook his head. "The detective will come, trust me. Sharpe as well."
Greasy was picking his fingers with his stiletto. "You still want her, Boss? I could see that arranged."
The junior investigator had excelled beyond what Doom had originally anticipated. Daniella Sharpe was clever, insightful, and a proficient fighter against the likes of toon and human thugs alike. She personified her father Lieutenant Richard Sharpe to a tee. Doom wanted the girl, and he wanted her now!
"Do what you can, Greasy. All of you do what you can." Doom turned to leave, his cane tapping in time with his steps.
"And where are you going?" Smarty called after the judge.
"I got a call from Maroon Studios. Seems the will has finally shown up," Doom patted something underneath his black coat. "Hopefully I can silence the goody goodies who've been hiding it all this time."
Psycho pointed his fingers like guns. "He going shooting tonight hehehe!"