On their own, sometimes they can be reasoned with, he’d warned Donatello, the night he’d asked to see the surface. And, since he hasn’t gotten another reprimand, he’s relatively sure that the Baron still hasn’t discovered them. His half-finished projects, amalgamations of discarded human technology, stay quite literally behind lock and key whenever he leaves the lab. He’s learned by now to keep that admiration well-hidden. But he can’t help from admiring humans’ ingenuity, lethal though it may be. The Baron’s warned him about them more times than he can count he knows the story of the yokai’s history by heart. It’s frightening to think that humans do it, too. There’s something more freeing about drawing the diagrams by hand, starting again on the next page without losing his first draft, redrawing the same concept over and over and over until it’s as streamlined and efficient as he can make it, and then drawing it again and refining it even more. He flips his pencil on his fingers, rubs the eraser over an erroneous line. Sometimes he fiddles around with the coding software, writing AIs for robots he could build if only he had the materials, but it’s mostly useful for keeping track of the security system and storing digital drafts of his designs. Best of all, though, is the nearly fully intact computer from one particularly fruitful harvest last year. Scavenging is better than nothing, though, and through the past few years he’s accumulated a hefty collection of everything from worn-out spring loaders to waterlogged EPROM chips, which, while functionally useless, are absolutely fascinating to study. But Donatello can’t exactly walk into the white market and ask for a couple milligrams of uranium, or hit up the Mud Dogs for a few sheets of titanium. The Baron, of course, always has whatever he needs. Sure, he has dozens of notebooks’ worth of ideas for inventions, but as he doesn’t have much in the way of tangible materials down here, so far from the surface, most of them are destined to be just that: ideas. He’s reconstructed the doorway to make it as soundproof as testudinely possible, has the lights on a perfectly-timed schedule, and the lab table doubles as a perfectly serviceable bed when he’s too tired to jog up the two flights of stairs to his actual bedroom.Īs a lab, however, it’s woefully unimpressive. Donatello’s made sure of that.Īs a safe haven, it’s perfect. His lab is the only refuge from the watchful eyes of Huginn and Muninn, who, though typically found snoozing on the Baron’s shoulders, always seem to know what goes on around the house, even behind closed doors. It’s unquestionably the most ornate and most foreboding building for miles, if not the whole of the underground. There are forty-two rooms inside, including two labs, an armory filled both with mystic weapons and useful ones, a throne room with a built-in fireplace, a torture chamber equipped with every restraining device one could conceive, and a kitchen stocked and staffed by a cluster of surprisingly culinarily inclined bats. It stands 109.44 meters tall, measures 57.45 meters around its widest circumference, and its only rival, the Grand Nexus Hotel on the east side, barely meets it halfway on both counts. The house of Baron Draxum is the largest architectural structure in the Hidden City. This is basically just The Little Mermaid.Donatello & Leonardo & Michelangelo & Raphael (TMNT).Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018).Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings.
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