The Tulgey Woods

[I.D. Digital drawing of High School AU versions of TMNT 2003 Baxter Stockman and his mama spending time together. Baxter stands, gesturing as he talks, while his mama sits in her wheelchair with a mouser on her lap. Baxter wears a plain tee shirt, jeans, and blue circular glasses, and has his hair in 360 waves. His mom has a wheelchair with no armrests, wears grey pants and a maroon vest with floral buttons over a cream shirt, and has her grey hair up in a high afro puff. End I.D.]

I genuinely & wholeheartedly believe 87 actually has it WORSE than 2003

I'm not sorry to say that to be honest. Everyone always says 03 suffered the most out of all the Stockman variants in the Stockmanverse but honestly I believe that title actually belongs to his 1987 counterpart because he actually suffered a more cruel fate & overall hand at life compared to 03. And I'm going to cover all bases as to why. Starting point which I know is gonna get brought up (which is all & the only thing TMNT fans bring up when it comes to 03 Stockman or Stockman period) "uhhh he was dismembered"

Yes I am fully aware 2003 Baxter gradually lost his entire body via slow mutilation as the series progressed but the thing is. He only lost HIS BODY. Physically he's not ok but at the same time. He's (somehow) still able to survive. For one he doesn't need to eat or breathe really anymore & his bodies overtime make it very clear of that factor so Starvation and other internal health problems are no longer an issue for him

Whereas with 87 he still needs to eat & function & as his respective series showed he doesn't seem to do that much. There's been a couple of instances where he's so starved that he's quick to eat just about anything he gets ahold of or "seemingly" editable so who knows how long he's been going without eating in his prisons

Speaking of prison, that's also another thing that makes his life harder. He's constantly forced into banishment into limbo dimensions that as he put it is "SO MUCH NOTHING"

meaning there's most likely no food or water or any form of survivable salvation for him to at least live. Meanwhile we've seen that 2003 still has access to go just about anywhere he wants to go especially after he's recruited by Agent Bishop despite supposedly being at large but I'll come back to that point. Anyway 03 still has resources to support himself. 87 doesn't & it's miracle he's even still alive let alone still able to function at all given his mental state. And that's my next point.

Another reason 87 has a much more darker fate is because he's basically no different than a senile person. People tend to forget that Baxter wasn't mutated the same way as anyone else. He was horrifically fused together with a common housefly a direct result of almost being horrifically MURDERED which is fucked in its own right. Yet in a very dark & screwed up way, he was probably better off dying because he's now sharing his brain with a literal insect & we see slowly he was beginning to lose that mental fight. He becomes more & more fly-like as the series goes on, one heartbreaking characteristic being he became forgetful. From forgetting instructions, to buildings, names & even his overall past. He DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER HOW THE TURTLES CAUSED HIM TO END UP LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE 💔.

2003 on the other hand still remained the same despite his mutilation & even brain injuries (via electrocution). Before it gets brought up. YES I know he went temporarily insane (in the membrane) in said episode. Keyword TEMPORARILY. And that in it of itself was mostly due to his body & mind deteriorating because of the faulty super soldier accelerant. Plus after being resurrected by Bishop he was back to his normal snarky self. His actions from Insane in the membrane never being brought up again

And finally to my final point of this hot take. His Actions. 2003 may be sympathetic but he was NOT nor will he EVER be innocent & never was from the start.

What happened to him was the direct result of his greedy, prideful & even downright evil choices he made. He CHOSE to align with a criminal for money & power he ALREADY had. He CHOSE to nearly brutally murder April with his Mousers. He CHOSE to rob & steal from hundreds of people. He CONTINUOUSLY CHOSE to keep hurting people along the way! Everything that ever happened to him in the hands of the Foot clan he could have easily avoided had he stayed being a humble & decent person, but he didn't! He's 36. He knew better. His mother raised him better than this. He made his robotic bed, so he has to lie in it.

His 1987 counterpart was the opposite. All he wanted was to help people! All he wanted was to share his invention with the world! He was just trying to both make a business for himself & help his home state with their rodent problem! His only fault was being too Naive & desperate & it cost him the ultimate price of his life & humanity.

more details to add, 2003 is lucky that he was even able to make himself mechanical, he’s lucky that when he was being torn apart major parts of his brain were kept in tact and allowed to continue living. He was GIVEN and ALLOWED that. (At least as far as I understand from my little knowledge of the 2003 show)

with 87 the only reason is alive is because he is fighting constantly to stay alive, he is having to escape situations where he should have croaked the moment he got there but he didn’t because it’s clear he wants to live, even if it’s for something twisted like revenge (because lowkey he needs that revenge he needs to be allowed to at least kill one person)

2003 also has very competent support, bishop. This isn’t to dunk on z in any way, he is competent emotionally but can’t help much in defending his pal. In the short time he does have legs he proves to be very strong and able to help Baxter but that lasts 1 episode and Baxter just goes back to getting railed by whatever bullshit comes his way

Please enjoy this excerpt!

Terror in the junkyard. Investigations are still ongoing here at Manny’s Scratch for Scrap, where two nights ago the night guard of the used auto parts compound called 911 at a sighting of what appeared to be bug monsters and a tidal wave of roaches. While police found no monsters at the time of their arrival, they did discover dozens of dead roaches and a large axe of unknown origin. They also found a broken keytar, but it vanished by the time officers went to retrieve the instrument. Nearby locals report hearing a loud shockwave of noise that set off car alarms around the same time as the emergency call. It is possible the keytar played a role in the noise, but no determinations have been made at the time of this update. Officials warn that if you should see any giant bugs or waves of insects, contact your nearest exterminator. This is April O’Neil, Channel 6 News.

Baxter switched off the video receiver in the Starcruiser. The pale morning light barely grew bright enough to power off the last of New York City’s streetlights before he cleared the northern suburb limits. Flying low, he gradually gained altitude and pressed on the acceleration pad once he hit more rural areas. No particular destination came to mind, only that he wanted to be somewhere secluded. Hopefully Mona would notice the note he left on her bedside stand and not panic over his sudden absence. He needed to meet her at the hospital by that evening anyway if he wanted to be there for Zak’s discharge and return his Starcruiser.

Not much time passed before he flew over a lake in the middle of a densely-packed forest—either a state park or a wildlife reserve, he couldn’t tell which—and decided to land in the small clearing nestled alongside it. Mosquitoes swarmed around the musky water, chattering in a language he almost understood. His antennae picked up on the higher-pitched frequencies the females broadcasted in particular, but he worked to ignore them. He had his fill of talking to insects.

Baxter stepped out of the Starcruiser and sat down on a large rock that overlooked the lake. The trees had already shed a good portion of their leaves, but some still retained their apple red and gold hues that contrasted beautifully against the lake’s inky blues. If his mind weren’t so full, he would’ve focused more on taking in the kind of view he usually only saw in ads or on postcards at the bodega.

Fly stirred in his consciousness not long after he left the hospital, but it wasn’t the itching urges he felt the night he faced Scumbug. It was more of a prodding reminder that he was there, observing everything that Baxter experienced once more; at least that’s how he interpreted it. Looking down at his arm, he noticed that same fly hair sticking out from the cuff of his shirt, spared from being shaved to accommodate the bandages on his hand. He unbuttoned the sleeve—he wasn’t wearing his lab coat that day—and rolled it up to his elbow for a closer examination. The bracers protected his arm from Scumbug’s claws, and many large, coarse hairs covered over the peachy-pale skin. His elbow had the same purple, insectoid, bony protrusion at the tip as it always had, along with splotches of rougher skin of the same hue. If he rolled up his other sleeve, as well as his pant legs, he would’ve seen the same vestiges of Fly adorn his other major joints. He hadn’t felt the same resentment as he had earlier while he stared at the pieces of his mutanthood. He didn’t know how he felt. Asking him at the top of every hour would’ve produced a different answer. Without Fly, he likely wouldn’t have survived the fight with Scumbug. Or with Shredder, for that matter. Without Fly, though, it would’ve been easier for him to move somewhere far away and assume the life of a fix-it shop owner or some other humble, invisible job where he could forget. Forget that ninjas, mutants, aliens or anything else strange ever crossed his path.

No. He must never forget. Fly was the reason why he was still living in the first place.

But he wanted to forget. Sometimes death in that chamber didn’t seem like the worst fate. It was simple and final, unlike the constant tug of war between his life as a human and an insect.

But then Mona. And the Neutrinos. And working on a way to rescue Z, wherever he was.

The whine of the mosquitoes sounded like tittering. Look at him. What a sad creature. He is not here, he is not there. He is nowhere. And we do not care.

As soon as one landed on him to drink from his veins, he snarled and tried to smack her, only for her to dance around, tittering again.

“Shut up and go away!” roared Baxter, swiping into the air. Instincts kicked in and his wings lifted up to buzz in anger. Pain shot all throughout his back, even into his neck and jaw. He yelled in agony.

“Dr. Stockman?” came a voice. Baxter felt like he was about to pop out of his skin and he almost slipped off the rock into the lake. The soft voice was familiar by now.

“Splinter?” When he turned around, he was greeted by the stout, mutant rat. Splinter was dressed in his usual magenta kimono with camping gear strapped to his back. His signature walking stick was replaced by two wooden trekking poles that looked hand carved. Possibly Leonardo’s work.

“I must say, on my way back, I was more than a little surprised to see the Starcruiser hovering overhead. What brings you all the way out here?” Zak did say something about Splinter’s little sabbatical in nature when they were back at the warehouse.

“Nothing, really.” He couldn’t hide the pained vibrato in his voice, nor his blinked-back tears that caught the emerging light.

“Judging from your outcries, it sounds like much more than nothing. Something is deeply troubling you. I can see it in your eyes.” Baxter could only clench the back of his throat and look away. He was not going to let the dam burst in front of Splinter. “Would you like some hot tea? I would be happy to brew a pot if you have the time.”

He was going to shake his head. It turned into a nod.