Chapter Text
Dr. Jumba Jookiba, perhaps the brightest mind currently alive in the galaxy. Or the dumbest, depending on where you got your news from and what you believed. A supposed creator of hundreds of deadly and disruptive creatures, the likes of which had never been seen before. And still never had been seen, for despite talking quite big he was actually quite secretive about his work. Even his closest business partner only really knew cursory information. Where could such potentially destructive, illegal, and terrible things be kept?
A certain secretive and hidden base on Quelte Quan was becoming quite crowded, and rowdy.
Jumba’s amiability towards his experiments was being repaid by having his house trashed. And as for the one he’d placed in charge of the lot while he was gone, his most ‘faithful’ aid? Well 625 (Reuben) hadn’t moved from the couch in about… Well, the calendar had been torn up a while ago so who was keeping track? He’d been sustaining himself on a bowl filled with dehydrated sandwiches that had all the sandwichy goodness and experiment like himself needed to keep going.
604 (Houdini) quickly jumped on the couch, before scurrying off as 601 (Kixx) came chasing. They knocked into an incredibly advanced looking machine, covered currently in dirty clothes and various body fluids as a few sparks came off.
“Hey hey! Watch the Dehydrator, even if it's no good for dehydrating experiments it’ll be unprecedented for sandwich storage.”
Nothing could quite store sandwiches like him though, though he could nearly feel them jump right out as 221 (Sparky) came flying out of the device. Not like he really cared though, being dehydrated would really put a damper on his sandwich schedule. What more pressingly put a hamper on his sandwich schedule was the fact his bowl got knocked over by 322 (Heckler), who seemed to have not learned his lesson about practicing his primary function on the others.
“Jumba said he’d fix that piece of junk when he gets back, but from what I’m seein’ there’s 624 other things he should get on first! If he even decides to come back, that is, if it were me I’d find the nearest black hole and throw myself in if I knew you were all my creations!”
625 ducked for cover as snot, lava, snowballs, and a hapless 288 (Boomer) were sent his direction. As he tried to collect his snacks back in the bowl. And as if he hadn’t already gone through enough, it seemed somebody changed the channel. He muttered to himself as he looked for the remote.
“Jeez, what’s so special about 626? When Jumba said he’d be locking himself in his lab till he finished, I didn’t expect the mayo to turn in the meantime.”
Clambering back on the couch he decided to let it play, at first sight it seemed like it might be a good cop thriller. Quickly however he realized this was the Galactic News Network, and his interest quickly plummeted. He didn’t need to hear about the thousandth guy who tried enriching snootonium. His demeanor quickly changed however once it was revealed who had been caught.
“It has been confirmed that Jumba Jookiba, head of Galactic Defense Industries, has been apprehended by Federation agents. He along with one other currently unidentified individual are currently being held in temporary custody pending trial. Although Federation representatives have yet to comment it is more than likely the genetic scientist will be going to trial, as many speculate-”
As more experiments gathered around, even if they hadn’t all heard it over their own chaos, seeing Jumba’s mugshot certainly caught their eye. As the news rattled on, panic settled into the gathered group.
“A name like 626 doesn’t exactly leave much to the imagination…”
“The armada’s gonna want to know where the other 625 are, and they’ve probably already cleared out his lab…”
“We’re ALL illegal genetic experiments!”
“I know you are but what am I?”
After 139 had been thoroughly jammed into the floor, panic resumed on schedule as many immediately tried to make for the hills, or avoid getting trampled in the stampede. 625 however finally took charge for the first time, getting on top of the soda and calling out to the others.
“NOW JUST HOLD IT! You’re all acting like you were activated yesterday! We'll be fine, all we gotta do is find a ship, get outta here before the armada comes, take on fake identities, find work in a distant star system, come up with a good excuse for what we are…”
Finally one of them managed to come up with a good idea as 150 (Clyde) chimed in.
“Oh, oh! Hamsterviel, he’ll bail us out! All we’s gotta do is find him, and we’re home free!”
A murmur of agreement came as it seemed they’d all end up fine. At least, until the news had to give its input again.
“We’re reporting live with important information as the situation develops, it has been confirmed that Jacques von Hamster Wheel, main client of GDI, was the one to finally reveal incriminating evidence, and Jookiba will be facing charges of illegal genetic experimentation at the highest level of court. A blockade has been declared around Quelte Quan and civilian clearance to land or depart is officially suspended. Federation Representatives say only crucial supplies and personnel will be allowed on the planet, but to expect the situation to be resolved shortly as Jookiba’s trial moves forward.”
Panic yet again, this time however the group didn’t even run. Where could they go? The armada was going to show up at any second! And Hamster Face had sold them out! Each one of them, either imprisoned for life or disassembled back into genetic strands! That was if the Federation even cared enough, if 626 had a bad showing at trial they’d probably just gas them, or blow them into molecules from orbit. Yet as everyone lost their collective minds, one came face to face with 625, pulling him down and whispering something into his ear. Catching the other experiments’ attentions, they all watched with anticipation. 625 was in disbelief, and didn’t speak until finally egged on by 149. (Bonnie)
“Well? Ya just gonna stand there or you gonna tell us what 120 (Snafu) wants?!”
625 looked back at 120, who nodded eagerly.
“Well, if I haven’t lost my charge, I’d say he’s proposing a jailbreak.”
A murmur roused from the experiments, some of the less capable didn’t seem too eager to be throwing themselves into the fray of combat, others seemed eager to finally get a chance to perform as they’d always been intended to. It wasn’t too hard to reach a general consensus however, unless they felt like dancing the glocknar until the gentle hand of intergalactic law found them, then they’d hear 120 out. Turning back to 625 expectantly, 120 was already busily formulating ideas, using Jumba’s blueprints as scrap paper to scratch on.
“Smish naga, ashi.”
Came from one of the less speech inclined experiments, rising a few nods of agreement as 149 piped up.
“Yeah, you’re expectin’ us to trust the guy who doesn’t even let Jumba keep a planner without making sure he finds it on three different planets the next day?”
Yet as 625 received 120’s work, he seemed to actually be impressed.
“Looks like he’ll do anything to foil a plan, even if it means making one of his own. Looks like all I need is a rubber band, some potato salad, and 604.”
In one moment the shivering train wreck of an experiment found himself singled out in the group as the others parted like the red sea, the next he was being carried like a cat as 625 led the others to a nearby space port. With a couple good squeezes earlier he’d managed to turn the whole group invisible, allowing them to move undetected.
“Smart thinking to put this guy to good use, if he only he weren’t so-”
625 took an ear to the face as 604 nervously looked around.
“-twitchy! Learn to stay still, we’ll be out of here faster than you can say fluffernutter with the works and make it cry, oh and a side of-.”
625’s sandwich cravings was quickly shut up, much to his dismay, as they approached city limits. Even with invisibility on their side, one wrong move and bumping into the wrong person or thing would blow their whole cover. Things hadn’t gotten any easier as after trekking through the relatively sparse area around Jumba’s hideout, they now found themselves thrust right into civilization. 625 had to do his best to get the others to repress their programming, and although it came much to their disappointment to not tear up the first city they’d found themselves in, a few torn up fire hydrants and missing socks were enough to keep their destructive tendencies at bay for the moment. Though the streets of the surrounding city were actually fairly quiet, with everyone staying inside awaiting further updates, the space port was an entirely different beast. It was swarmed with upset and confused people and the hustle and bustle of staff trying to keep the peace, all while trying to accommodate landing Federation ships and crew. Although they’d managed to get moving before the main fleet had arrived, they weren’t lucky enough to miss the preliminary force sent out. 625 looked around, luckily it seemed this had created an opportune moment as they were plenty of fueled up empty ships meant for cancelled flights just waiting to be used.
“Alright, let’s just find the first thing that can fly and move it before shaky here has a heart attack.”
An unfortunate nagging tendril would be the end of such an easy solution however as 625 knew 120 had an objection. Finding cover as 604 blinked them back into visibility, it seemed 120 already had a ship in mind.
“Are you CRAZY? We’ve got our choice in all the latest makes and models and you want the one with the cup holders, leather seating, and… oh yeah, built in FEDERATION TROOPS! If I don’t hear ONE good reason for it I’m gonna cream you into my next egg salad.”
It seemed his preferred ship of choice was the flagship of the local forces around here, crawling with Federation soldiers. Just as 625 finished laying into him, 120 was cut off from a possible defense by a distinctive whiny voice. Even without a visual aid, it was impossible to misidentify.
“Well, I heard that Bernie’s 49th birthday is coming, and they’re planning to celebrate by going shooting at a nearby asteroid belt! Also, that ship’s got all the hottest singles preloaded into it, can you believe it?! And-”
“Can it, schnoz, boy am I getting crabby without the toaster around. Anyone seen that guy who turns stuff into ham?”
199 (Nosy) knew when he wasn’t wanted, and was content to share his gossip to the rest of the unwilling group.
“Your loss! I was just abouta tell you how that ships got clearance to land on Turo, and that they’ve got Jumba there! Apparently they let him keep his lab coat.”
A validated 120 was met with an annoyed 625, who gave 604 a squeeze to give both the invisibility that was absolutely necessary for the idiocy they were about to attempt. As the experiment group slinked their way towards the ship, 625 still didn’t seem very happy with the direction things were going. Two guards stood at attention right at the ships entrance, each fitted with what seemed to be heat vision sights on their blasters. Apparently 604’s trick wasn’t exactly the ace in the hole they’d thought. 625 grumpily addressed the space where he assumed 120 was. Hiding behind a wall to avoid being seen, his patience wore thin.
“Alright smart guy, now what? We go out there, and somehow I doubt they’ll assume that a pack of hot air pockets just blew in.”
“Wellgeeactuallytheymightyouknowthatremindsmeofafunnythingthathappenedtomeonceyouseeitwasjustasjumbahadactivated533(thatsblowhardifyoudidntknowyknow?sayspeakingofknowingthingswhydoweneedtheseparenthesisanywayImeanIcanrememberallofuswatchillstartnowtheres-)letmetellyouthatguyisfullofhotairassoonasjumbabroughthimhomeheblew-”
It didn’t take long to realize that 625 had just accidentally gotten 110 (Squeak) talking, and that the floating bowl of potato salad loaded into a rubber band was probably the experiment he meant to be talking to.
“HEY! I’m picking up something, what the heck is this thing?”
“And why’s it got the galaxy’s most irresistible bowl of potato salad with it?”
“Stay focused, Frank!”
“I had to skip lunch, I don’t know why they’ve gotta pass the paperwork for planet destruction onto us little guys!”
“Bring it up to the union, we’ve got-”
What the two guards got was humiliation, as one had the potato salad slung into their face. As the other prepared to open fire, he was quickly dispatched as 120 grabbed the other guard’s dropped blaster and fired, causing him to run off for back up along with any other unsuspecting crew around. As the other experiments ran for the ship, 150 took notice of a peculiar warning.
“Huh, this ship is only rated for 624 passengers. Do we gotta leave someone behind?”
This caused a brief pause as the experiments weren’t really expecting such a hang up. At least, until some experiment knocked the rest over like dominoes. They all looked angrily at the culprit, as 625 rubbed his patookie.
“And it looks like 600 (Woops) just volunteered!”
As the other experiments threw 600 off the ship, he proved a useful distraction as his invisibility quickly wore off. A second later, he was surrounded by federation soldiers.
“STOP RIGHT THERE, TROG!”
“Woops!”
Meanwhile, the rest of the experiments were trying to figure out what they had to do next now that they were actually on the ship.
“Alright 120, what’s your plan now-”
Before 120 got a chance to continue, it seemed one of them decided he had a better idea. 223 (Glitch) jumped into the ship with a characteristic flash of yellow-green. As 604 blinked in surprise, equally surprised crew and experiments realized that the genetically mishmashed group just had their cover blown. The chaos would only be worsened as the onboard systems went haywire as 223 had a field day. Panicked crew ran out of the ship as the experiments quickly got with the program, and started chasing them off. 625 however quickly ran his way to the captain’s deck, where he saw the captain fending off the arms of his automatic back massager which were currently trying to strangle him. 625 quickly yoinked him from his chair.
“Sorry pal, I'm gonna need to borrow this. I’ll send ya a sandwich in the mail as an apology!”
As the captain and his crew ran, the door slammed behind him as 625 jumped into the captain’s seat.
“Alright, driving a ship, how hard can it be? Jumba had a few manuals laying around, which I spilled plenty of condiments on the covers of, let’s see…”
As he reached for the controls, a spark of green made it abundantly clear that 223 was intent on driving as the engines started.
“Ow, alright! You know you can make your point without singing my fur.”
As the ship took off, it had to weave and dodge fire from below as they attempted to ground the ship. While the other experiments were tossed around, 625 hung on for dear life as the strap holding him to his chair proved to be giving out.
“I THINK I FEEL THE PASTRAMI MAKING ITS WAY BACK UP, ALONG WITH THE REST OF MY THIRD BREAKFAST’S SANDWICHES!”
With an electronic cackling as 223 got the hyperdrive activated, all the experiments were forced to brace as they were plunged into hyperspace.