Plankton the Destroyer vs Super Mecha Karen 2
Plankton has discovered a new formula that will allow him to become strong enough to steal the Krabby Patty Secret formula. But when the power goes to his head, Karen steps in to stop him
This is a Spongebob Squarepants Fanfiction. All characters are 18+
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Plankton bends his neck, looking into the Krusty Krab through a shattered window. All he can see are his highly detailed pectoral muscles. They jiggle, and he chuckles, bouncing one and then the other. “Oh, look at that. That’s remarkable!”
Spongebob, Mr. Krabs, and Squidward hop out the back door, floating down with his specialty spatula.
“Oh wow! Plankton’s as big as David Hasselhoff!” Spongebob quips.
“Come on, me boy,” Mr. Krabs says, clinging to Spongebob. “We need to get to where I keep the real formuler!”
Squidward, clinging desperately to Mr. Krabs, screams. “You don’t keep it in the Krusty Krab?”
“No, of course not!” Shouts Mr. Krabs. I keep it in Goo Lagoon!” he says, winking.
“Huh… I would have never thought of that,” says Spongebob, scratching his cheek. “I would have thought it’d get all sticky.”
“Well, it’s there!” Mr. Krabs says, winking, “and we should go there!” He then pulls Spogebob’s face down towards him and whispers. “I’m lying, me boy! I buried it where the Dutchman’s Treasure was. That’s where we’re really going.”
“Daahahahahaha Okay!” and the three flutter off.
Plankton blinks, spinning around. He runs his hand through his antennae and chuckles. “Oh, so, they left it in Goo Lagoon, eh? I don’t need an excavator to dig up that beech anymore because I have these GUNS!”
With that, he flexes, exploding the Krusty Krab into wooden shrapnel. He hoists the sign, carrying it like a scepter, pumping it in the air, and showing off his incredible physique to the terrorized people who were only after a drink. “I’m the King of Bikini Bottom, and no one can stop me!”
Inside the Chum Bucket, Karen watches, her mechanical hands folded in front of her mouth, her screen head lowered, her face glowing in contemplation.
A jaunty tune plays in Plankton’s head as he stomps through the streets of the city proper, whistling as he twirls the Krusty Krab sign as a baton. Police fish pull up in their boats, ready to stop him with a barricade, but he steps into them, using them as roller skates. “Ooooh hohoh, this is rather nice!” he chortles to himself. “No one will call me short again! No one will ever step on me. I might not even need the secret formula anymore!”
He slams his staff in the street and beats his broad chest. “Listen up, Bikini Bottom! I was once content to be a restaurateur, but NO MORE! Now, I shall be your lord and master! You will bow before my magnificent muscles and magnanimous mind and call me your Lord and Master!”
The people of Bikini Bottom mutter among themselves, leaving Plankton standing there, posturing but frowning when no one does what he says.
That’s when he throws his fist through a nearby house and then kicks it, crumbling to dust!
At that point, the people scream in terror, rushing about.
* * *
She wheels herself from her spot in the Chum Bucket and further down past the lab and even past the laboratory, entering a secret elevator built by miniaturized robots and subcontractors from Sheldon’s extended family. She folds her arms over her tube-like body, the lines on her screen squiggling in annoyance and disdain.
“I tried to warn him,” she tells herself through the logic gates in her processor. “Therefore, there is nothing else to be done about it.”
When the elevator stops, she wheels out into an enormous hangar. The room is empty, except for robotic claws, welders, and pistons, ready for their instructed purpose.
A minuscule indentation is in the center of this massive chamber. Karen wheels right up to it, entirely fitting into the nook. She raises her arms, locking them in place. A moment later, her monitor shuts off.
Then, the room becomes alive. The various whirling motors kick in, bringing tons of metal to her. Fabricators come to life, printing out plates of all shapes and sizes. At the same time, robotic arms reach down, drilling, unscrewing, and tearing apart the body that was Karen, lifting her monitor, and more precisely, her CPU, high into the air.
From the manufacturing section comes large pieces, as well as scaffolding to keep it up. It all starts from the bottom, creating massive boots at the base. Above them, legs build upwards, making room for the joints of the upper thigh. Above that, a differently-colored pelvic area to hold her joints, but more importantly, it supports the core.
The chest assembles separately, and the robot arms lift it, placing it in multiple pieces from the front and back. As the myriad arms assemble it, smaller ones come in, unscrewing the back of Karen’s monitor and placing various wires and connectors within it.
Once she fully nestles into the chest of the mecha suit, the front welds on, completing the encasement.
The arms follow suit, and the mechanical manufacturers produce a more incredible monitor above those broad shoulders, many times larger than Karen’s previous one. With a hiss, the monitor connects to the neck and shoulders, and welding arms complete the transitions.
Soon, the screen turns on, and the lines blur and buzz. Then, Karen moves a finger, then a whole hand, and finally, her entire arm, flexing it momentarily.
“Watch out, Sheldon,” she begins. “Now, you’re going to listen to your computer wife.”
* * *
Rubbing his hands, Plankton hunches over and cackles with his evil glee. “Ooh, yes! Run! Run, you tiny fools! Feel what it’s like to be me for once; once you’re tired, you will pour your supplications out to me. This I decree!
He then stomps through the city, grabbing another building. With a heavy grunt, he uproots the building, lifting it over his head and pumping it for his weight training. “Oh yes, this feels good! Dopamine! Endorphins! They’re running through me! I should have exercised more often!”