A/N: I wanted to get this out sooner, but hey, it's the busiest month of the year. On top of that, I had to leave town for a week, as well as having other projects to work on. But I got it out before year's end! And on my birthday, too! It might be short, but I think it makes for a very interesting mini-chapter.
So Happy New Year everyone! And a big thanks to the betas for helping me get this out during this hectic season.
"Brain one... failure. Brain ten... failure. Brain fifteen... I'm beginning to notice a pattern here."
Loboto tapped his pencil down his checklist, which despite his best efforts, did not magically change the crosses on it into checkmarks. Oleander had delivered him a bunch of duds. Truth be told, stuffing a bunch of kid's brains into war machines had sounded a bit too crazy even for the mad dentist, but he'd never expected it to flop this badly. They just needed one tyke with enough pent-up aggression or submissiveness to be directed into battle... instead, they'd gotten tanks that'd attempted to set Loboto on fire, called him rude names, broke down crying, or even tried to play sick beats using the machine's built-in lights.
Well, Loboto was getting paid to build the tanks and put brains into them, not necessarily to make sure they met the little man's megalomaniacal standards. Still, he'd sort of been looking forward to being one of the leaders of that whole 'new world order' thing his employer had promised. Hm. Maybe the next mini-mind held more promise.
Loboto turned to check on his brain stash. The table that was supposed to hold them sat empty, its entire supply run dry.
"Well now, isn't that a wonderful variety of NOTHING!" he huffed. "...Wait." Loboto fumbled across the counter, still just as bare as it seemed. "Ah, no, that's right, already tried that invisible girl's brain. Took me a good minute to find the tank after that one. Ha, ha... OLEANDER!"
Someone snorted off to the side. "Snrk... AH! Get to the bunker! They're raining hellfire on us!" Coach jerked up from his seat, his sleepy surprise quickly shifting into annoyance. "What in blazes do you want, doc? I was having the nicest dream."
Loboto tutted. "You doze off unusually often for someone plotting global domination. I get it. Beauty sleep's important! It's how I look so radiant," the crooked dentist crooned, preening, fluffing his shower cap. "But while you were busy sawing logs, the well ran dry!"
"We have a well?" Loboto jabbed a claw at their empty stockpile, and Coach slammed a fist into his palm. "The well! Confound it! You're telling me none of these rookies fit the bill?!"
"Not a one." Loboto gestured towards his newest commission, his pride and joy... the stout and spiky frame of the impenetrable Brain Tank, its goo-filled dome eagerly awaiting a new wrinkly occupant. "All the brains you've brought me are either too meek or too weak."
"They'll let anyone into Whispering Rock these days," the soldier muttered to himself.
Carrying on with his theatrics, Loboto grabbed Coach by the shoulders, giving him a good shake. "We need something with a little more oomph! A little more righteous indignation with the world!"
"Keep your cap on! We've still got a couple in reserve," Coach pointed out, slapping him away. A malicious sneer crossed his face as he lifted a finger towards the ceiling.
"Ahhhh. Your coworkers?" Loboto clarified with a chuckle, gazing upwards. "Not a bad idea. I'm sure our intruders would be happy to lend a hand. Or a brain!"
He watched Coach stand and head for the ramp upstairs, snagging a pepper mill as he went. "Don't forget!" he called after him. "Give them a good slap before you powder them. Remember, we need them angry! ANGRY!"
"Oh, I've been wanting to do that for a long time..." The little man disappeared from view, leaving Loboto free to fine-tune his war machine some more.
A few moments later, a loud smack and a cry rang out from above, followed by another... and then a pair of sneezes. Smirking to himself, Loboto waited patiently for his boss to return, two new jarred brains clutched in his arms. "Well? Are they ready to go?"
To his disappointment, Coach shook his head. "That was just for me — it'll take more than a sore cheek to get these goodie two-shoes primed for battle. They never did see my side of things... always blind to what needs to be done. But a little mental manipulation should have them marching to our beat." He slid the containers up onto the counter, their contents bobbing a bit in the goo. "I'll have a go at them later. For now, they're POWs."
"Then the plan's still stalled at the finish line!" Loboto pointed out. "We can't exactly cause anarchy and destruction with an empty vehicle, you know."
"Hey! It's not my fault your frankenfish has been sleeping on the job!" Coach snapped, the hypocrisy flying over his head rather easily. "By my count, there's still three brains out there, and any of them are quality contenders! The Zanotto girl's a little spitfire — it'd be a piece of cake to turn that aggression where we want it. And Boole's just had a bit of a 'growth spurt'," he said, tapping his noggin. "Now that his abilities are properly under control, one tank might as well be twelve with that level of firepower! And Frazie..." The man wrung his hands with manic glee. "The best of both worlds. I've peeked at what she's been accomplishing in the other counselor's memories... she's one in a million. Talented. Resourceful. Reckless. Fiery. And completely defenseless! No mental barriers!"
"Hmmmm. Yes, yes, I understand what you just said completely," Loboto lied with a nod. "You raise a good point, though. Where has my little pet wandered off to...?"
"Beats the heck out of me," Coach grunted, turning to leave once again. "But I'm gonna find out. Time to go see why your monster's gone AWOL..."
The soldier marched outside, his body lifting up into the air as he telekinetically lowered himself off the tower. Left alone again, Loboto huffed. There wasn't really much to do without any ready brains around... and he was starting to wonder what was taking his delivery freak so long, too.
It was time for a little investigating of his own. Loboto grabbed for his walkie talkie, lifting the crackling speaker to his lips. "Whytehead! Status report! Have you seen my dear little abomination lately?"
No response. Loboto's foot impatiently tapped the ground as he waited a minute and tried again. "Crispin! Answer me!" The receiver stayed silent. "Hrm... maybe it wasn't the best idea to give a walkie talkie to a henchman that can't use his arms. Still, he usually figures out how to reply."
His suspicions starting to rise, Loboto put the radio away. Fine. There was still one more person he could check with. "SHEEGOR!"
A surprised squeak sounded from around the corner outside. "I know you've been eavesdropping," Loboto went on, beckoning the unseen figure over with a claw. "Come here."
Slowly, a small, shaky woman stepped out of hiding. She looked like she could fit in with all the other patients — her white hair curled outwards into wild tendrils, and each of her hands had an oven mitt on it. Her stout frame trembled more and more the closer she got to the doctor.
"Ah! There you are." Loboto sneered, resting his head on his hand. "You've brought me a lot of worthless brains tonight, did you know that?"
"B-but that's not my fault...!" Sheegor protested in a squeaky voice. "I don't collect the brains, I just deliver them!"
"Don't interrupt!" Loboto snapped, making her flinch. "Good help is so hard to find these days. Now then... I know you've been running around downstairs between operations, bringing food to the deplorables. I don't know why you bother, but that's besides the point. I'll forgive you for the cruddy brains... if you tell me if you've seen anything strange tonight."
Sheegor nervously tapped her gloves together. "Well, you... you ARE putting kid brains into a tank..."
"Stranger than that!"
The lenses Loboto used for eyes almost seemed to zoom in on her, peering into her very soul. Biting her lip, Sheegor's mind raced, trying to figure out how to respond. She HAD seen something strange tonight... a young girl, using bizarre powers similar to the ones Loboto's partner had, running amuck through the lower asylum.
It would be simple to explain what she'd seen, to tattle on the stranger she'd been spying on, yet the words wouldn't come to her lips. And why?
Because she knew it was the wrong thing to do. She'd seen what the girl could accomplish... she'd steadily made her way up the building, doing strange things to her fellow inmates and somehow leaving them better off for it. Sheegor had taken care of them all this time, but she'd long given up trying to help their conditions... yet this newcomer was performing miracles.
Maybe stopping Loboto would be her next one? Sheegor despised working for the mean old dentist, but she knew she was helpless to fight back. Watching this teen draw closer and closer to the top was the only spot of hope she'd had in a long time — the one chance that this evil plan she was unwillingly assisting with would fail. Was she about to throw that away to avoid Loboto's wrath?
Finally, Sheegor took a steadying breath and told him everything she'd seen.
"N-no," she stammered, avoiding his piercing gaze. "I haven't noticed anything weird. Just the usual rats. Um... Mr. Teglee broke another easel... does that count?"
"Hmmm." Loboto's lenses whirred in their sockets, making her shake even more. "...Veeeery well then."
Sheegor breathed a sigh of relief when he walked away. It was obvious she was lying with how nervous she looked... but, thankfully, she always looked like that. For once, it was a blessing in disguise.
But Loboto wasn't done with her yet.
"I'll take your word for it," Loboto continued, marching up to a glass case nearby... then swiftly opening it, yanking out its occupant. He clutched a turtle in one hand, a small crown atop its head... and his other mechanical hand whirred as its claws started to rotate rapidly, swirling into a makeshift blender. "But if you're lying about my pet, I'll make sure you never see yours again!"
"M-Mr. Pokeylope!" Sheegor covered her eyes, sobbing, unable to watch someone threaten her companion. Him being held hostage was the whole reason she was forced to work for these villains in the first place. "I'm telling the truth! I'M TELLING THE TRUTH! I PROMISE!"
"Are you suuuuuure?" The madman moved his hand closer... before the blades finally whirred to a stop and Loboto gave the little turtle a few pats on the head. "Just joking, little fellow, just joking. ...For now." Putting the reptile back in its prison, he wandered off to go check on the tank again. "In the meantime, don't go far, Sheegor. As soon as Oleander figures out what the hiccup is, it's back to work! We've got BRAINS on the way, and they're going to be juicy ones!"
Sheegor shot Mr. Pokeylope a nervous glance before nodding. "I... I won't." And this time, she really was telling the truth... because last time she checked, that girl was almost to the final elevator. That wasn't very far away, right?
Seeing her turtle in distress was giving her second thoughts, though. What if she was wrong, what if this stranger failed? Loboto would make Mr. Pokeylope into turtle soup for sure.
What should she do? Try and scare her off? Try to help her out? Her mind in a tizzy, Sheegor let out a whine as she headed for the elevator, ready to go intercept her potential savior before she arrived.
Were you expecting a villainous POV? We never really got to see much of Coach and Loboto's scheme at work, and we never saw them interact at ALL, so I wanted to take a peek at all that. Additionally, I wanted to give Sheegor a little more characterization, namely because I realized a couple things:
-She spies on Raz the whole trip up the tower, yet Loboto isn't expecting him, which means she either never told on him or lied to Loboto. We already knew she was a sweetheart, but I thought it'd be nice to show how she might have been part of the reason Raz' mission went so well in the first place.
-How did the Thorney Towers inmates survive all these years? Someone must've been taking care of them, right? And there's no way it was Coach or Loboto... Crispin, maybe, to go with his orderly role, but he's also a huge jerk... and also one that can't use his arms. My theory is that Sheegor is the only one at the tower nice enough to keep everyone fed, and I wanted to show that.
Basically, we stan Sheegor in this household. And with that out of the way... one patient left to go. Stay tuned.