Outside of the Station's building, Woo Hoo has grown increasingly aggravated with Wash Woo's tardiness, to the point of staking out outside with a pair of binoculars to keep watch. Woo Hoo watches Magnum Mustang in the distance as it hunts down nastoids and kills them with its gun head. After watching this elegant creature for a few minutes, Woo Hoo turns around, and jumps in shock as he finds someone looking directly at him through the binoculars. Woo Hoo lowers the binoculars, and standing before him is White Woo, who is named as such due to the spotless white uniform that he wears.
"Oh, uh- hey there." Woo Hoo quickly regains his composure. "You here to join the Station? What are you good at, exactly?"
"You got any, like, trials I can complete to prove my worth? Like, those things where you have somebody complete a task under a time crunch while holding a glass of water and they have to not spill the water? I'm pretty good at that sort of thing, I'd say."
"That's a…very specific request, but okay." Woo Hoo heads inside, and returns with a glass of water for White Woo to hold. "How about you…run down to the Beaten Meat Deli, and get a slab of meat, and bring it back here, all in the next eight minutes."
White Woo gives a thumbs up to show that he accepts these terms, and then takes the glass of water and runs off. Woo Hoo sighs and rolls his eyes, not expecting White Woo to accomplish much of anything. However, to Woo Hoo's surprise, White Woo returns only six minutes after leaving, with what is unmistakably a premade slab of generic meat from the Beaten Meat, and with the glass of water still perfectly unspilled.
"Wow. I'm impressed. I have no idea what that has to do with fighting crime, but feel free to make yourself at home and set up your office here."
White Woo grins, sets down the meat and water, and heads inside, for some reason choosing to make his way all the way up to the roof to set up his workstation.
Back on the Death Moon, the Oligarchy has quickly gone back to consuming as many fossil fuels as possible now that Awaser isn't around to meddle in their affairs. However, they are distracted when something suddenly crash-lands in the loading bay. The Oligarchy sends some grunt turtle workers to investigate, and the workers report that the object is in fact the frozen body of Oilspill Stage 1. The Oligarchy orders the grunts to thaw out Oilspill, viewing Oilspill as a valuable asset. The grunts use their standard issue turtle flamethrowers to thaw out Oilspill, which results in Oilspill being set ablaze and becoming Oilspill Stage 2. Oilspill in this highly dangerous and uncontrollable state begins spreading flames all throughout the loading bay, and the Oligarchy promptly fires all grunts associated with causing this incident, which translates to having them launched out of the loading bay by a cannon.
"What do we do about this?! We don't have any fire safety protocols on this ship!" a member of the Oligarchy exclaims.
"Well, we are right above the ocean, aren't we? Let's just contain the threat, and then we'll take a little dip to put out the fire. Get the flame-resistant buckets!"
"We have flame-resistant buckets?"
"Are buckets flammable normally?"
"Not really I guess."
The Oligarchy sends several more grunts with a hefty metal bucket to contain Oilspill Stage 2. The turtles manage to put the bucket on top of Oilspill, containing it inside, but Oilspill is still moving within, and the bucket is heating up fast. The turtles desperately look for a way to dispose of the hot bucket, tossing it between each other as they make their way to what they believe is a trash chute. Upon dumping the bucket into the chute, though, the turtle grunts realize that it was in fact a chute leading directly to the fossil fuel storage room. The turtles try to run away, but due to being turtles, they don't get very far before a massive explosion sends a fireball out of the chute, blasting all the turtle grunts away with it. A large portion of the Death Moon is now on fire, and the Oligarchy begins panickedly steering it out of orbit to attempt the dunk maneuver. Down on the beach below, a large crowd has gathered to watch the moon descend from the sky, including Bermuda, who chuckles due to some of the flames being highly triangular in nature. As the Death Moon begins to submerge itself, several small island nations are flooded by the rising ocean waters, including one containing the vacation home of Runny-Eye Dale. Inside the depths of the Death Moon, Oilspill has assimilated all of the fossil fuels, and has become Big Oilspill, which escapes into the ocean, taking with it the entire fuel supply of the Death Moon. The consequences of this promptly make themselves known, as the Death Moon stalls halfway submerged in the ocean, unable to rise any higher.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it! What do we do now?!" an Oligarchy member demands.
"Fire the people who did this?"
"We're out of people to fire!"
"Oh no! What do we do now?!"
"Look, we're gonna have to accept our loss here. This moon is all but done for, even if we refuel it, by the time we can get it back in the air, it'll have sustained too much water damage."
"So what, we just, start over? With nothing?"
"Not quite. You ever heard of a moon seed?"
"No, that sounds very made up."
"Well, they are incredibly rare, and only passed around amidst a select few seed dealers, but if we can get our hands on one, we can grow an entire moon way faster than we could build one!"
"Where can we find one of these seed dealers?"
"There's a guy named Northy Wids that comes to mind. Last seen somewhere in the Minneapolan wasteland. We don't know exactly where he is, but he's known to have a fascination with vehicle wrecks."
"How the hell do you know all this?"
"I follow him on Twitter."
"Fine. How do we get in contact? We can't just go there ourselves, can we?"
"No, definitely not, we'll need to send some sort of drone or something."
"Do we even have any 'drones or something'?"
"We do now." The speaking Oligarchy member points at one of the outside cameras, showing someone on the beach piloting a drone with a remote to get pictures of the Death Moon. A big grabby extending claw hand shoots out from the Death Moon and snatches the remote from the beachgoer's hand.
"Hey, wait, give that back!" whines Beachgoer Bobby, but his cries are in vain, as the remote is thrown into the Death Moon's loading bay, far out of reach. The Oligarchy retrieves the drone remote, and hooks it up to the Death Moon's control panel to extend its range, before piloting the drone over Costa Brava towards the Minneapolan wasteland.