Carry On Chumley

'''Cairo

''There are visible signs of improvement in the once-destroyed city of Cairo. Many of the outlying, burnt-out buildings have been cleared, as well as the blackened, twisted metal that made travel so hazardous. The countless dead have been recovered and given proper burial. Near the spaceport, a vast tent city has been erected by the Autobots and the Red Cross, equipped with badly-needed food, supplies, and equipment. The massive skyscrapers of the downtown area still lie in ruins, huge, ragged chunks of concrete and twisted girders piled high, but much of the debris has been moved out of the way in the search for both the dead and any survivors. Oddly enough, the spaceport outside of the city and the massive Arcology still stand, untouched.

--

New Park Purchase -CNN

The CNN logo flashes up on screen, showing an outside report, the reporter wearing a safari jacket and standing in a lush savanna.

"This is Dirk Douglas for CNN, reporting on the surprise buyout of Africa's national endangered wildlife park by an eccentric British millionaire. This park is home to thousands of endangered species, many of them the only ones of their type. Here with me is the new owner, to talk about his plans."

"TOODLE PIP!" says Lord Chumley, an aging British fellow, encased in a life-giving exoskeleton. He too is in a safari suit, but also holding a very large elephant gun. "Well, when I saw those jolly poor chaps who were in charge here in such financial difficulties, I had to step in!"

He puts a monacle in his eye. It twinkles. "Animals are so important to me, their cute eyes, their rosy cheeks, their stuffable faces... I can absolutely guarantee that every single animal here will be /taken care of/" At this point, he cocks his rifle.

Dirk pulls at his collar nervously. "Uh, Lord Chumley. There's also reports of a gigantic oil reserve under the land. Can you reassure us that you won't be selling up to mine the area for its precious energy reserve?"

Lord Chumley smiles under his gigantic moustache. "Oh dear boy, no. You can't hun-HELP oil after all. I just want to HELP animals. HELP them a lot."

--

Cairo! The site of Africa's premier nature reserve. And in the middle of this gigantic area, full of every single animal you can think of, elephant, buffalo, crocodile, white-legged damselflies, is a table, right out in the open. And sitting at the table is an old portly british man, wearing a smart safari suit, an ornate exo-frame supporting him. Ladies and gentlemen, Lord Chumley! "Om nom nom nom!" Lord Chumley exclaims, as he stuffs his face with the gigantic banquet set out in front of him, mountains of crumpets and biscuits and haggii and fish'n'chips, with large bowls of marmite and salad cream at the side. "Hurry up Dinsmoore!" he shouts. "You lazy little man, I want more!"

Far overhead, a bald eagle cries out sharply as it lazily drifts over the park. Still, it's a curious sight... don't bald eagles normally live IN AMERICA?

Seahawk Helicopter flies over Cairo on a routine patrol with his other Decepticons. "Hmm. Egypt, sand sand sand. Oh can I stop and make a sandstorm?" he seems rather excited about being out here where he can cause damage.

"Yes sir," comes the quiet, rasping voice of Lord Chumley's manservant. Beyond the table is a jeep. Presumably the jeep that Chumley and Dinsmoore took to get out here. Taking out an ornate tea set from the back of the jeep, which consists of a silver tray, a tea pot, and more tea cups than Lord Chumley could possibly need, Dinsmoore shuffles his way back towards the table. He places a tea cup in front of Chumley and says, "Quite a day, sir. Shall we go for the white rhino or the white tiger or the ever elusive white hippo first, sir?" he inquires. "They do all need our help, after all." Dinsmoore gives a raspy chuckle.

Sky Lynx is also here, well, way up there flying over-head. The large draconic beast is mostly here to redeem himself to the public. He recalls the history about this-- Lord Chumely and is rather sure whatever is going on is also going to get the decepticons attention.

His optical band scans down below, however lack of cloud cover makes him an easy target in the bright sun as his large form does cast shadow down below on the ground as he swiftly passes over several hundreds of feet above.

A-10 Thunderbolt is up and about in the air for seemingly no reason. OR IS HE? No, he's not. He just wanted to get out of San Francisco for a while, and nothing says 'vacation' like a trip to a wasteland!

Lord Chumley shakes his head as he pours the marmite into his mouth, the black goop flowing everywhere. "No no Dinsmore, I have a far more deserving prey!" He takes out a piece of card, upon which is sellotaped a twitching fly. "The White-legged Damselfly, Dinsmoore, the last of its kind. I had some native boys catch it for me." He puts the card on the table, and takes out a gun. Holding the gun a centermetre from the fly, he starts shooting. The fourth shot manages to hit and kill the fly.

"AHA! Jolly good show!" he cries. "I am the best hunter in the world! Stuff and mount that for me Dinsmoore, I..." His monacle pops out as he sees Americon fly overhead. "By jove, look at that, how beautiful!" he cries. "Get me my eagle-hunting gun!"

Experimental F-15 glides in, slightly above the flight of Decepticons. "No, we will proceed to the oil fields to secure them," he hisses out at Vortex. "The terrans do not deserve these resources."

It's an unlikely combination of Autobots in the sky today- Powerglide, Sky Lynx, and (trailing a little ways behind them) Grimlock! The Dinocommander lumbers through the sky, arms held out in front of himself superman-style. "Me Grimlock like Africa." he rumbles. "Remind me Grimlock of Dinobot Island!"

A thickly-plated white F-15 flies beside the grey Seahawk. It looks like it is moving slower than normal -- probably to keep Vortex from being ashamed of himself for being such a slowpoke. "Don't be so foolish, Vortex!" Ramjet bellows over his opened commline. "The oil field should be our focus!" And then, Ramjet realizes he just repeated what Dirge said.

Ramjet pauses. And then..

"... shut up, Dirge!"

Robotic Bald Eagle  calls back to Vortex, "Request for sandstorm DENIED by authority of my American pride, unless of course your sandstorm can somehow rip oil right out of the ground! Because if it can, permission is totally granted!" He does a few more circles in the air, scanning the area and totally unaware that it's Bald Eagle hunting season.

Rampage is flying in behind the Seekers, tagging along for whatever reason. Mainly to put his rage to good use. Going on a fuel raid usually meant Autobots, and Autobots means an excuse to tear stuff up.

Seahawk Helicopter is never ashamed of himself. Having dignity and being a Combaticon do not intertwine. "Fine.. we'll get the oil first, spoilsports. Then. Then I'll make such a sandstorm that we'll only be able to find our way home using radar! Muuahaaa!" oh yeah. Make it easy for the bots will you?

Reinforced White F-15 Eagle  emits, "Our home is on another planet, moron!"

Sky Lynx looks back to Grimlock, "if the reports are correct, This--- Lord Chumley is sitting on an oil field and it may be very possible the decepticons will arrive to take that oil from him." He takes note of the bold eagle and his optical band flickers, "Well-- speak of the devils and they shall rise forth. We have decepticon activity... Unless that bald eagle is indeed part of this wild-life perserve."

Robotic Bald Eagle  sounds confused at Ramjet's words, and quirks an eagle brow at him. "But America is on this planet!"

Dinsmoore begins pouring tea into the tea cups, one by one. Lord Chumley is but one man, but Dinsmoore is pouring two... three... four... is he going to fill all eight? His wispy grey hair is blown back slightly by the explosive force of the hunting rifle, but the manservant himself doesn't even twitch. Maybe he didn't even notice it in the first place. "Very good, sir. I shall have it mounted in the insect wing of the manor, sir." Dinsmoore keeps pouring. Having finished pouring all eight cups, Dinsmoore goes back to the first and starts pouring again, topping each of them up. That tea pot must use some sort of subspace technology to hold all that tea. Turning and shuffling back towards the jeep to fetch Lord Chumley's eagle-hunting gun, Dinsmoore is still pouring, as he carried a cup and saucer with him. It has begun to overflow.

A-10 Thunderbolt trails behind Sky Lynx, spinning his gatling gun and making 'ratatatatatatat' noises. Kaboom! Pieces of Sky Lynx EVERYWHERE! Oh, Powerglide, you took down the most beastly of robots, you are soooo manly~ Haha, why yes, my dear, I am. His inner monologue was interupted as Grimlock spoke. "Dinobot Island, eh? Is that place even still around?"

Seahawk Helicopter chuckles. "This planet? Another? Who cares? Eventually it'll all belong to us. So let's get the oil and make the cubes." He starts to bank wildly to the left.

Experimental F-15  sighs hollowly. "Shall we focus on the task at hand?"

Lord Chumley stands up, pouring each cup into the pack on his back, which pumps away, injecting the hot beverage into his very veins. "DINSMOORE!" he bellows. "YOU PUT SLIGHTLY TOO MUCH MILK IN THIS! USELESS BUTLER!" He stalks over to the undergrowth as he rubs his hands, taking out his binoculars. "Oh my pretty pretty eagle, you are too pretty for nature. You will be far happier stuffed and mounted next to all the other things I hunt, like lions and bears and cars and tables!"

As he walks into a thicket of undergrowth, there is a russle and then a humming, as what looks like a huge anti-aircraft platform rises up, Lord Chumley sitting in the seat behind the barrel. "Ah, the sport of kings!" he shouts, as he fires at the eagle, a gigantic metal NEST full of chicks that shoot lasers flying from the cannon, straight at Americon!

"Uh. Me think so." Grimlock says to Powerglide. "Me just forget where it is sometimes." Temporal anomalies will do that, really. He soars along- and then glances over as the sound of gunfire eminates from lower below. "Hey! Somethin' splodey!" Grimlock says- and then he alters his course accordingly, heading towards the source of the commotion!

From within the smoked-glass canopy of the reinforced F-15 pulls its flight-stick to the right. In response, its left wing lifts into the air. It instantly elevates above Vortex, elegantly barrel-rolling back upright to reside on Vortex's left in order to evade the laserfire aimed for Americon. "Looks like someone disagrees with you, Americon! Decepticons, evasive manuevers!"

Robotic Bald Eagle  gasps as he spots Sky Lynx in the distance. "Beware, my fellow Decepticons!" He points at the offending Autobot with a wing. "That is no ordinary foe! He is a VAMPIRE, and will drain your very life force if you are not wary! But do not fear, for--" Lasers begin to flash out all around him. "Uh... This is an amusement park, right? With light shows? I mean, that would explain the lasers." He peers down, just in time for the nest to ram into him. "OH MY GOOOODDDDD!" he screams as he is tangled in the metal nest. The bizarre robotic chicks cheep evilly as they shoot him at point-blank range. "OOHH MYYYY GOOODDDD!!!! OHHHH MYYY GOOODDDDDDD!!! HELLPPP MEEEE!!!"

"It shall not happen again, sir," Dinsmoore replies to Lord Chumley while still operating on auto-pilot. It will happen again, you know. Either Dinsmoore is incompetent or Lord Chumley has impossible standards. Or a little from column A and a little from column B. He sets the tea cup and pot down in the jeep and gets Lord Chumley's eagle gun. As he does, however, Dinsmoore notices a beeping sound coming from the front of the jeep. He shuffles over towards it and looks in. The jeep's entire front dash looks like it belongs in a high tech futuristic police car. There's radar instrumentation and controls for assorted weapons throughout the grounds. "Oh dear, sir," Dinsmoore calls out to Lord Chumley, peering at the anti-aircraft radar. "Some prey seems to have found us, sir. Were you still wanting to expand the exotic alien wing of the manor, sir?" he asks.

Sky Lynx sighs, "Didn't I say there were decepticons in the area?" Ah well, as if any would listen to him at this point. He follows Grimlock's lead(for once) to go investigate to only hear Americon's cries, "Wait-- is that.. Americon being shot by-- tiny.. birds?" Ok offically-- that was just wierd...

Robotic Bald Eagle  yells at Ramjet, "Uh, a bit late for that!"

A-10 Thunderbolt is feeling a little left out of the group, considering everyone else ditched him. "What what? 'Cons?" He banks and follows after the other two Autobots, "Hell yeah! This is going to be awe-" Then, he sees the plight of Americon. "...What."

Rampage looks on in disbelief as Americon is shot...with a NEST. He hasn't even seen anything like that on TV, and TV's always right. "Looks like some little chicks for my fried turbochicken snack," the Predacon states, diving down and transforming to Tiger mode. Cats love birds...

Reinforced White F-15 Eagle  emits, "Where is your precious America now, Americon!?" A rumbly laugh comes from the jet. "I fly confident knowing nothing horribly ironic would ever happen to me!"

Lord Chumley hops off his cannon stand as he sees the nest successfully attacking Americon. The Decepticon will find the nest firing little booster rockets, the chicks inside shooting metal worms out of their beaks to entangle their prey as it flies back towards Chumley.

"DINSMOORE!" he bellows. "CONJUGATE YOUR VERBS YOU NASTY LITTLE MAN!" He then strokes his gigantic moustache, munching on a crumpet. "I say, such specimens. Dinsmoore, cancel the visit to the Home for Warward Orphans, we're hunting Transformers again!" He turns. "Well go on then, START HUNTING THEM!" Then he takes out an ornate walking stick and presses a button on the top. The button causes a hidden panel in the foliage to open, and fire out the only thing that can defeat a dinosaur at Grimlock - a gigantic robot King-Kong, that shoots through the air directly towards him, flinging barrels from a harness on its back.

Chumley twirls his moustache again. "I was wondering why I bought that..."

Grimlock lands! *THOOOM!* Though right now, Grimlock seems to be a little ways away from the scene- just enough to see Americon getting shot at. "Haw haw haw! The Septi-cons get-" *CLANGH!* That would be the sound of a barrel hitting Grimlock in the side of the head. "Rarrgh! Me Grimlock smash stupid monkey!" And the Dinobot thunders forward, swinging a coal-black fist around to punch the gorilla in the face!

Seahawk Helicopter chuckles. "Ahh here's compition.." He says. "Allright, pick a Bot. This is going to be eas.." he looks to Americon and his...situation. "Oh slag! How do you get yourself sucked into this?" He tries to fly closer, hoping to help him with the...problem he has.

Sky Lynx also lands down and raises out his large paw as Grimlock charges foreward, "Grimlock wait! Oh bloody slag.." He rumbles and tries to stop the Dinobot before things get any worse, after all-- he was far far larger then Grimlock and when he sees the shot his optical band flickers, "..did that human-- he can't be serious.."

Then Sky Lynx was wondering if he should take back up into the air.

The robot gorilla lurches forwards, its mind programmed to kill only dinosaurs. Throwing back its head, it roars, and hurls another barrel at the dinobot. But this barrel is full of deadly bees covered in tar!

Robotic Bald Eagle  yells, "NO, STAY AWAY!" Like a female anime character attacked by a demon (albeit minus the nasty stuff), he is ensnared by the mechanical worms and struggles to fly away, or flap his wings, or something, but he is held securely. "You... fools... they'll... get.... you... too!" He spares Ramjet a glare. "You are a horrible jerk, so you can go ahead and help me, and get trapped as well, you bastard!"

"Of course, sir," Dinsmoore replies to Lord Chumley as if the British Freak had been talking about the weather and not hurling insults at him. The manservant doesn't seem to have noticed. Dinsmoore opens the door to the jeep and gets in. This is a slow process due to that hip he injured in World War I. The ancient butler looks at the extremely complicated set of instruments on the jeep's dash. "Hmm..." Dinsmoore ponders. His fingers hover over the controls before he finally flicks several switches.

A shrubbery some distance away suddenly shimmers and vanishes, revealing itself to be nothing more than a complicated hologram! In its place is a multi-rack missile launcher assembly with eight tubes all lined up in a row. The turret swivels upwards and aims for the sky. On the side of each missile are the words '-arn-i-g h-za-d-us rad--a-t--- -a--er-al'. Whatever this mystery message says, someone has tried to smudge the words off so nobody can see it.

In the jeep, a light flashes to indicate target lock. Pictures of Sky Lynx and Powerglide show up on the targeting HUD. Dinsmoore hmmms again before tapping a glowing red button. THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! Four missiles fire in rapid succession, each corkscrewing upwards in a complicated pattern. Two of the deadly warheads are locked onto everyone's favorite egotist, and the other two deadly warheads are locked onto the everyone's /other/ favorite agotist.

"Rargh!" The difference between Grimlock and a normal dinosaur? (Aside from the metal and stuff, that is). Grimlock's got a gun. With surprising quickness, he snaps his double-blaster up to shoot at the barrel-o bees! Tar -IS- flammable, after all! He doesn't stop there, however, turning the blaster towards the gorilla, too! *BBZAT!* "What you Sky Lynx say?" Grimlock asks, having misheard the egoist over the course of the battle.

A-10 Thunderbolt touches down and transforms next to Sky Lynx, leaning against him with a propped elbow. "Oh man, check out what Grimlock's dancin' with. Wait...are those bees?" Something clicks within the minibot's head and his expression turns serious, memories flooding into him despite trying to block them out. His days as a beekeeper, the accident, his being banned from the Cybertronian Beekeepers Association, no, it was too much. Luckily (or is it?), his terrible flashback was pushed aside as he became the prime target for a missile. "OH GOD, SKY LYNX, SAVE ME"

Lord Chumley takes out a pack of cigars, lighting each one and taking a puff before throwing them each away. "DINSMOORE!" he shouts. "I WANT TO SIT DOWN WHERE IS MY CHAIR, YOU ARE THE WORST!" He takes out his binoculars as he watches his capture of Americon. The nest that has ensnared Americon now stops, hovering in the air as a robotic cuckoo appears, trying to peck at the tape, the chick's mouth now vomitting cotton wool, as they attempt to stuff him.

The bees all burst into flames as Grimlock strikes them, flying around like fireflies until they each puff into ash. "Drat!" Lord Chumley cries! "I was going to hunt those later!" He angrily munches on a sausage sandwich, before popping a Fisherman's Friend into his mouth. "Still, the next one will floor him!"

What is the 'next one'? Well, it seems to be the head of the robot gorilla, shooting itself like a missile at Grimlock, and from the now-empty neckhole, robot dinosaur eggs march, each one with a little laser tape to the top of the shell

"What!?" the Reinforced F-15 emits in shock as Grimlock takes on a mecha King Kong. Under the smoked canopy, its radar display is alight with activity. "I.. I... Dirge! I feel this strange desire to engage this creature! I.. what! I must! Disengaging from formation! Going in, hot!" The flight-stick slams to the right once more, signalling for the dip of the right wing and elevation of the left. The Decepticon jet peels off from formation and increases its speed. Four engines respond by eliciting a resounding boom and the F-15 surges forward powerfully before curving back, lowering down, and beginning an attack run!

"I go on record by saying I am not doing this to save Grimlock!" Ramjet emits to cover his ass. He isn't. He is just filled with an inescapable urge to attack a giant ape -- just like all tactical role fighters since the early half of the 20th century.

Kicking in the boost, the Reinforced F-15 makes a subsonic attack run on Mecha King Kong. "Target achieved. Weapons hot," Ramjet crackles over his open comm. Silly Decepticons, announcing their intentions in USAF brevity code! Vulcans on either side of the F-15's nosecone spin to life, firing laser-mag shots at the great ape! Beams of hot, purple energy fill the distance!

Sky Lynx went to go help Powerglide, noticing Grimlock was alright, however as the Missiles fire, he growls. Splits off and go into two different directions with sheer speed. "This is Bloody insane!" Yells the Sky unit.

The Lynx unit remaining silent, the two units ran at one another with swift speed, well.. one flying the other running. Then when it looked like the two were going to slam together they both bolted into the air, allowing the missiles to explode by sheer impact together, and they-- he reconnected and flipped up in the air, his head cranned downward to look at the explosives. "Something tells me I should have just stayed in my lair.."

Reinforced White F-15 Eagle  zips by Sky Lynx! Zoom!

"...Me Grimlock say this SILLY." Grimlock says of his 'opponent'- even as the missile strikes him, forcing him back a step. Luckily, Ramjet's strafing the body...which just leaves the disembodied head. Which seems to be just at the right level to...
 * BOOT!*

The Tiger is attracted by the birds-shooting-worms-while-in-a-nest, and leaps, clawing at it and trying to bite the heads off the birds.

Powerglide flails around wildly as he's ditched by not one, but TWO Sky Lynxes. Or, parts of Sky Lynx. Or..what? "Oh my God, you are the WORST body guard EVER!" He turns on his heel and begins to run in the opposite direction, still flailing like a retarded dove. Unfortunately for him, he was running in a straight line and both missiles eventually caught up to him. Alas, he was sent flying into the air from the explosions, only to land back onto the ground with a sickening thud.

Robotic Bald Eagle  thrashes some more in the nest, but he cannot escape the firm grasp of the evil metal worms. His optics widen as the Cuckoo approaches him, and he shouts, "No, stay away, you demented metal abomination!" Peck goes the Cuckoo, right on his back. "OW!" Peck! "OW!" Peck! "OW! Oh, for the love of Lincoln, will no one help me?" As Rampage starts to tear into the nest, he cries, "No one at all? What a horrible day to be FWAAAAGGGHHH!" Violently, one of the chicks shoves stuffing straight into his mouth!

The gorilla head is smacked by Grimlock, hurtling through the air in the direction of Rampage as it EXPLODES... into a huge electro-net, that continues to fly in the direction of the Predacon! Meanwhile the little eggs that pour out of the neck turn their attention to Ramjet, shooting at him with hundreds of teeny tiny lasers

Lord Chumley rests on his stick, taking out a piece of paper and writing a very very angry letter to the Daily Mail about how much he hates foreign people. His head jerks up as he sees Powerglide fall to the ground. "DINSMOORE!" he cries. "I WANT THAT THING MOUNTED IN THE EXPERIMENTAL JET SECTION!"

"Coming right up, sir," Dinsmoore calls back out. The manservant sets the missiles on auto-kill and slowly gets out of the jeep's driver's side (that's the /right/ side of the car, obviously). He fishes around in the back before getting an ornate... lawn chair out. He sloooowly pads over towards Lord Chumley. He sets it up for the world famous hunter. "Do you think they'll put up as much of a fight as the Gobots did?" he idly asks Lord Chumley.

The missile launcher meanwhile makes a loud 'Ka-THUNK' noise as four more rockets slide up out of the ground and into the missile tubes, once again giving the turret eight ready to fire at once. The Auto-Kill AI compensates for Sky Lynx's daring tactic. Two of the missiles have slammed into one another, but two remain and explode against Powerglide's fuselage and knock him from the sky. The AI considers Powerglide dead and racks up another tally.

The Auto-Kill meanwhile has relocked back onto Sky Lynx, having learned the trick. A full complement of eight missiles streak across the terrain towards the reconverged Sky Lynx. The Autobot Lt. is much closer now, however. While this makes it tougher to avoid the rockets, it does give Sky Lynx the chance to retaliate.

Meanwhile, Dinsmoore is asking Lord Chumley, "The west wing of the experimental jet section, sir, or the east wing?"

Sky Lynx lands back down after seeing the F-15 fly by. He then goes to look for Powerglide, "Powerglide!" he calls out. After all-- he had to admit even to his logical processor, this was o-so-confusing!

Finally Lord Chumley gets his chair! The esteemed aristocrat sits down, and sips at a mug of warm Bovril as he watched the chaos. "Ah Dinsmoore, it isn't a challenge any more. I am such a great hunter, is there nothing that I cannot hunt? Perhaps I should set my sights higher..." He looks up into the sky. "Perhaps I should hunt... the moon!"

"Perhaps a bit lower, sir," Dinsmoore suggests. "The Moon won't fit in your trophy room I'm afraid."

Powerglide is buried face first into the ground, his legs sticking out and kicking madly as smoke billows from the missile wound on his butt plate. His voice is muffled by the sand, but his point gets across. "MMPHUCK"

Now, a noble autobot would help someone that helped him- even if that someone was an enemy. Grimlock...is not very honorable. Instead, he leaves Ramjet to deal with the little laser-egg thingies, and then he stomps further into the preserve- transforming mid-stride to his dinosaur mode...if nothing else, it feels appropriate, given the surroundings. And so, the TRUE king of the jungle (and of the dinosaurs, and of the Autobots, and of just about anyting else he can think of) goes on the hunt!

Yes, the moon Chummers. No sooner does Chumley look to 'gaze' at the moon....than he is literally buzzed by by the oh-so-fun....SIlverbolt. Of course, the sonic boom follows him shortly afterwards. He transforms and lands to find.......Powerglide's butt smoking. "you know Powerglide, I think that's the most creative thing you've done yet. Trying to make a new afterburner from a Methane tank?"

Sky Lynx finds Powerglide and also finds Silverbolt, "Good to see you Silverbolt. Keep an optics on Powerglide and also stand on Guard. I need to go stop Grimlock from killing a human.." he growls, "Even if he is trying to make us trophies.." Then takes back off again.

Robotic Bald Eagle  launches into a complex diatribe on his current unfortunate dilemma! "Mrrrrrffff!" is what makes it through the stuffing, however.

Powerglide GROWLS from underneath the sand and speeds up his leg-kicking to a ridiculous level to show his appreciation for Silverbolt's comment. His entire body waggles from side to side as he tries to free himself, "HELP ME, DAMNIT, ARGH!"

Lord Chumley scowls at Dinsmoore. "And THAT sort of thinking Dinsmoore is why you are getting a ten percent PAYCUT tomorrow!" Lord Chumley rises to his feet again. "No prey is too big for me, no prey too small. Soon I shall have this entire planet stuffed and mounted. What do you think of that, eh?" He twinkles his monacle, taking out a packet of Digestive biscuits and forcing them all into his mouth at once. "DINSMOORE! Start to research how to stuff the molten core of the planet!"

Meanwhile, Grimlock's wandering is met by... a gigantic rumbling, as a replica of Jurassic Park appears on the horizon, mounted on wheels, the cages inside snapping open and shut as they seek to capture the dinosaur!

The chicks start to cover Americon in wool, unable to pierce his metal skin... yet, of course!

And then, towards Powerglide comes a huge robot cow, lasers shooting from its udders as it tries to down the poor Minibot!

Sky Lynx well, thought he was going to stop Grimlock, till his sensors went off. Perhaps the viewers could hear the jaws music... but either way, The missile somehow snuck up on Sky Lynx-- actually several missiles going in several directions that found Sky Lynx.

He roared, which was loud enough to hear from several miles! Tried to get away, and the BAMM! Sky Lynx was smacked hard and though his armor wasn't damage, thanks to his thick hide, but he did rock side to side as his balance sensors were thrown off by the sheer explosive power from all sides. Then-- he flopped down on the ground, "..not fun.." He remarks with smoke hissing from his mouth.

Silverbolt grabs onto Powerglide just as the udderly insane mechanical cow takes shots at him. He then TUGS as hard as he can to get him out of the ground.

Silverbolt succeeds in grasping Powerglide, throwing it off-balance.

"Huh?" Grimlock, stalker of the jungle he is, is quite surprised by the sight of a whole park, cages and all, closing around him! "Raaargh! You no can stop me Grimlock!" he says...and then, backing up a few steps, Grimlock makes a run for the door, aiming to ram straight through!

Reinforced White F-15 Eagle  may not be the brightest of the Decepticon jets, but he is certainly one of the most skilled! Within the cockpit, the flight-stick bobs and weaves in time with the pattern of laserfire coming from the King Kong egg-offensive system. Winging erratically, it manages to dodge a tremendous amount of the offensive shots. Several shots glance off Ramjet's thick plating, leaving scorch marks at best. Within Ramjet, a green targeting recticle floats around the image of Mecha King Kong's body. It searches several times along the beast's mighty, headless body before fixating for the creature's navel. Blip-blip-blip-beep-beep-beep! Ramjet's targeting software chimes in approval as the green reticle turns red and achieves lock.

"Hnnnh.." Ramjet snarls from within his cockpit, the little readout on his dashboard that only shifts when he speaks slides up into the red. He's a very technological and sweet ride. "Razor-1," he calls out to no Decepticon in particular. It is his squadron designation, which is totally cool. "Fox-3!" The second command is brevity code for missile launch, which is far more fun! One of the large, thickly plated projectiles affixed to Ramjet's wings is released from its moorings and ignites! Streaking ahead, the enormous missile shatters the sound barrier as it races toward King Kong's body. Several meters before it intends on reaching its target, it suddenly shatters into ten smaller rockets -- all of which are targeted for the mecha ape. Curse that slightly ridiculous but totally amazing Decepticon Jericho missile, better known as a 'cluster-bomb'!

As for Ramjet, his course toward mecha King Kong is undeterred! He follows up with sustained fire from his vulcans. The fire-linked guns spin, shedding spent laser-mag casings as they rapidly spit purple laserfire from their barrels. In the blink of an eye, the F-15 is upon King Kong and subsequently twists aside -- only to have its undercarriage struck by the ape's arm. Ramjet's armor buckles with a sickening crunch and the shock disrupts a crucial part within the Decepticon's propulsion system! "NNNNAAAARGH!" He cries out in pain. The rightmost wing-engine explodes spectacularly, sending Ramjet spiralling off into the distance behind King Kong. "I'M HIT!" he transmits to his fellow Decepticons, "GOING DOWN! WHY! WHY! IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN THIS WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

Ramjet spirals toward the ground, a inky snake of black smoke trailing from his wounded engine.

Powerglide is currently lodged in the ground thanks to a few missiles hitting him in the ass. As Silverbolt tugs on him, he really really believes that the Aerial Bot is trying to cripple him, considering how roughly he was doing it. "Argh! Damnit, Bolts! This is my first time, be gentle!" Once he's pulled out, he throws his arms around the other plane's shoulders and coos, "My hero~" This mockery is cut short, though, as the mechacow strikes him over and over and over in the face with its udder lasers, sending the poor minibot onto his back. "Argh! This, like, sucks!"

Robotic Bald Eagle  makes plaintive muffled sounds as he is wrapped up in the wool, his form only vaguely recognizable now, although somehow cuter. Like a... plush eagle or something. He doesn't like his face being covered, though, so he fires his eye lasers and burns two holes through his tough woolly prison.

"Naturally, sir," Dinsmoore replies. Lord Chumley only has a 4% chance of remembering about the paycut by tomorrow anyway, since he's just as likely to find some new animal or sentient life form that needs to be shot in the face with a shotgun instead. Lord Chumley is easily distracted. "But the hunting the Earth seems beneath you..." Dinsmoore lets that hang in the air before adding, "What challenge can it pose, sir?" he asks in his slow I'm-not-paying-attention manner.

There's another beeping from the jeep, and Dinsmoore says, "Where will we be putting the robotic dino-bird, sir?" Dinsmoore asks, figuring that Sky Lynx most clearly be dead by now. Usually the missiles are only broken out for particularly tough creatures. Prior attempts to use them on tigers and the like tended to result in having nothing to mount and stuff later on. Dinsmoore got in a lot of trouble for that one, the manservant thinks, fondly recalling that particular hunt.

The missile launcher meanwhile is in the process of reloading and searching for more targets now that Powerglide and Sky Lynx are 'dead'. It swivels about and locks onto Ramjet... but now /Ramjet/ is 'dead'. "I'm afraid this hunt seems a touch easy, doesn't it sir? For a race that's been fighting for millions of years, there doesn't seem to be much fight in them at all, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm sir?"

Lord Chumley laughs evilly as he watches the proceedings, taking out a jar of Marmite and idly dipping some twigs in it to make delicious Twiglets, that he stuffs into his mouth. "Ah, this is the life Dinsmoore, the true calling of the gentleman. The skill of the hunt, the thrill of the chase, the whizz of the laser-guided missiles!" He stands up, indignant at Dinsmoore. "DINSMOORE, the Earth is a splended target. Mother Nature herself, I shall bind her and then mount her. In a little tableau with the moon, I think!" He quickly whips out a pistol and fire it into the ground. "AHA wounded her already!" he shouts triumphantly.

The park tries to close around Grimlock, as the dinobot smashes his way through, a robot hunter manages to cry "Aaah clever girl!" before he too is crushed. But then a robot Richard Attenborough starts shooting missiles that are shaped like Steven Spielburg's head at Grimlock

The cow trots over Powerglide, and starts to give birth to an electro-net, mooing and braying as it does so!

Chumley gives a nonchalant wave of his hand to Dinsmoore. "Oh, cut his head off and mount him in the robot bird section"

Mecha-Tiger  begins batting at the wool-covered Americon. Half of him is trying to free the bird, half of him just wants to play. After all, what's more appealing to a Cat than a Bird? A bird covered in wool, which is the ingredient in every kitten's favorite playtime, a ball of yarn! The Tiger pauses, sniffing. "Hey, do I smell /Vegemite/?"

"Rarrrgh!" Grimlock is bombarded by rockets, but his armor is enough to slow them down! He turns his head and belches out a gout of flame at their source, and then he hurries on! At least, hurries as much as a multi-ton robot dinosaur can. Nice thing is, though, there's very little that can get in his way. "Where am puny human? Me Grimlock tired of smashing stupid traps!"

Silverbolt chuckles lightly as Powerglide is hit by laser fire, but as the cow starts to get a net ready, bolts gets up and slashes the cow in half. "You know Powerglide....where would you be without me?" He says quietly as he looks at the cow.....

So Arcee's not sure what's going on. She's... um... here. She came in with someone else. Really! She glances around briefly, and... generally tries to figure out what's going on!

Robotic Bald Eagle  may be covered in wool, but he can still hear what's going on. Behead him!? Oh no! "BWWWMMMMMGHHHH!" he cries. Rampage bats at him, but mostly that just gets some wool on his claws and scores new holes in Americon's armor. "BRRRRMMMMMGH!" he grunts out. And as the kitty gets distracted and runs off, he nearly hops up and down in his fury, firing a few blasts at him from his eye lasers. Unfortunately for him, they miss.

Sky Lynx slowly rises back up, going through check processes. Luckily enough his armor with stood and with some time to rest he was able to get his balance back, "..bloody human-- I was going to save you from Grimlock, but I suppose I should just let him deal with you now." Sky Lynx then takes back off into the jungle, perhaps it was best to get the other autobots out of here, however-- there was a new problem..

"Where the slag am I?!" offically-- jungle all looks the same! Or-- fake jungle? whatever...

"AAAAAAUGH!" Ramjet howls in pain as his flight systems fail. As the ground becomes perilously close to him, he initiates his transformation into robot mode. The quick reconfiguration happens just seconds before he crashes against the ground. Chest-first he hits the grass, the weight of his body putting enough strain on his canopy that it shatters the glass instantly. He flips over and bounces off the ground, screaming when a section of his body goes crunch. He bounces once more, landing against his shoulder which completely destroys his mounted rifle before properly landing on his plated tuckus. "Hnnnh.. wh.. uhhnnh.." Ramjet groans, flopping back to the ground so his systems can properly recover!

Powerglide sits up, rubbing at the back of his head. "Yeah, Bolts. Where would I be, indeed?" Probably NOT getting completely wasted in the Lounge every night, hitting on vending machines, or punching Beachcomber in the face everytime someone mentions the name 'Silverbolt'.

"Good show, sir. She didn't stand a chance," Dinsmoore rasps back to Lord Chumley as he inflicts first blood upon the Earth. "If I might make a suggestion," the manservant says, gesturing vaguely in the direction where Sky Lynx met his terrible and PERMANENT destruction. "The quarry has two heads. Shall we mount one in the robot bird section and the other in the robot lynx section?... and one in the robot dinosaur, section?" Dinsmoore is counting the shuttle nosecone as a head, even if it's shared with the bird head. He hmmms and rubs his chin. "Three for the price of one for that one, hmm sir?"

The pre-programmed nest has decided that Americon should have totally been stuffed by now, and so it unfolds with a 'TA-DA!' noise, revealing a wooden plaque beneath it, inscribed with the legend 'French Bald Eagle'

The park may be destroyed, but there is still something in between Chumley and the dinobot... namely a gigantic lawyer, complete with briefcase. The robot lawyer starts to shoot out deadly sharp legal papers from his mouth towards Grimlock, to both cut him AND bankrupt him!

Lord Chumley strokes his moustache angrily as Dinsmoore speaks. "Any more lip like that Dinsmoore, and YOU shall be mounted in the DINSMOORE section!" There is actually a Dinsmoore section of his museum. It is simply an empty plaque with the words 'mount Dinsmoore here' inscribed upon it. Lord Chumley presses another button on his cane, the robot cow that is standing above Powerglide starting to shoot marmite from one eye and salad cream from the other, threatening to engulf the Minibot

Robot T-Rex! (Grimlock) continues to thunder through the jungle...but oh no, a robot lawyer! "Raargh!" Grimlock says, and siezes forwards to lay his chomping teeth down into the decoy...though he soon wrenches away, spitting. As Grimlock is bombarded by paperwork, he catches sight of white & pink through the woods. "Arcee!" he bellows. "Go find puny human!"
 * PTOO!* "Taste bad!"

Sky Lynx catches up with Arcee and Grimlock-- wait he was looking for Grimlock! "Grimlock!" Sky Lynx slid to a stop, "Did you locate that human yet?"

And yes, Sky Lynx refuses to die!

Silverbolt looks over towards Powerglide and offers a hand. "Come on Powerglide. I don't think this thing can shoot you anymore. You all right?"

Well isn't this great? Everybody's ignoring Mecha-Tiger  and this is starting to make him angry. Batting the nest-thing aside, he charges in the direction that he think the puny flesh creatures went. Oh well, they always said tigers make great throw-rugs...

Mecha-Bull <Tantrum> has no clue what's going on, but trots over to Rampage. "Hey...what is this place? What're ya doing with those birds?!" He follows along after Rampage, breaking into a run to keep up with him and pestering the tiger with senseless questions all the way.

Powerglide grabs onto Silverbolt's hand and pulls himself up, groaning and rubbing at his burnt butt, "Ugh, let me tell you, I cannot wait for-" And just like that, he was knocked flat on his back. Again. This time, it was because he was being bombarded with obscure, British foods! "SILVERBOLT, HELP ME!" He was going to DROWN in this stuff!

Arcee glances up toward Grimlock and Sky Lynx, turning slightly on her heel. Somehow she's managed not to set off any traps. Not /yet/ anyway. Not that she thinks she'd be of any interest in this place anyway... wherever they are. "What sort of human am I looking for? They tend to all look a bit different..." She glances around slightly, then frowns. Keeping herself obscure in this place would be difficult... she's rather pink, after all.

The Auto-Kill missile turret continues to scan the skies for anything that needs shooting. Sadly our targets have gone to ground. The Auto-Kill weeps electric tears even as Dinsmoore shuffles back to the jeep. "Of course, sir," Dinsmoore murmurs, not really listening to what Lord Chumley told him. Hmmm. Dinsmoore watches the radar screen as one of the marks is approaching. A wire-frame image of RAMPAGE can be seen. "Ooooooh dear," the manservant says. Taking the initiative, Dinsmoore taps the anti-Rampage button.

Suddenly, in front of the charging Predacon tiger's path, a section of the Earth slides open. Raising up on a platform right in Rampage's way is a robotic tiger. This robotic tiger is orange, red, and has a bit of black on it. It is quite large and bulky. The only striking difference between this new robotic tiger and Rampage is that /this/ robotic tiger has pearls around its neck and long eyelashes, and is therefore FEMALE. The robotic tiger bats its lashes at Rampage.

Dinsmoore and Lord Chumley had a long discussion last evening about whether this ploy would work. We shall soon find out one way or another.

As powerglide is nearly drowned in the obscure british foods... Silverbolt tries to grab onto Powerglide's arm to yank him out. Though that didn't work.....he does succeed in inadvertantly clubbing the cow with one hand in the nice little pirouette Silverbolt does when trying to.

To Ramjet's optics, the entire world goes fuzzy. Static snows in, distorting all auditory and visual sensation before blacking out entirely. He lies still as his systems fail and, as the light dims behind the red lenses, flicker back on with a reboot.

..booting..

Ident. found! X1035000X.2204D-56 <Ramjet>.

Loading personality component... OK.

Reloading drivers...

Motor system.. OK. Flight.. OK. Radio.. OK. Weapons.. OK. Drivers loaded!

WARNING. STRUCTURAL DAMAGE DETECTED. Rifle L1 offline. Engine R1 offline. Systems running at 74 percent. Fuel remaining 65 percent. Welcome Ramjet! You've got mail!

"Hurr... nnngh.." Ramjet groans as he returns to life. Lifting his upperbody, he sits up. He rubs his damaged shoulder and glances around. "Someone's gettin' murdered for this.."

"Funny-talking man! Smash him!" Grimlock growls- and then, he turns to the robo-lawyer, and breathes fire at the guy! Paperwork -IS- flammable, and Grimlock does breathe fire. Nice little logic, that. And then, Grimlock is on the move again, aiming to shoulder his way past the lawyer-bot, and deeper into the compound!

Powerglide is still struggling underneath the salad cream and marmite and whatever it is British people eat. Just as he beleives that the end is near, he raises his fist and shouts, "WITH MY DYING BREATH, I CURSE SLINGSHOT!" After a few seconds, he realizes that he was no longer in danger and stands up, flinging crap, OH EXCUSE ME, delicious NON AMERICAN food off of him.

As everything goes wrong at once, Lord Chumley starts to tug on his collar, watching his robot lawyer explode. "Drat!" he shouts, dipping a pink wafer biscuit into his cup of tea, which he has flavoured with some salad cream. "There's some sort of giant robot dinosaur coming towards me. DINSMOORE! Lay down your life so I may escape!"

With that, the British lord runs rather sprightily to another hatch in the ground, from which emerges a giant metal scupture of Lord Chumley's head. He leaps in a door mounted in the ear, and helicoptor blades sprout out the top as the strange vehicle rises into the air.

Below him, there is a pounding as through the jungle comes a huge jar of Marmite on tank treads, the lid opening and closing like a trapdoor, rolling towards Arcee in an attempt to eat her up.

The cow falls on its side as it continues to spurt condements everywhere, crying out "MOOOO MOOO MOOOO!"

Mecha-Tiger <Rampage> stops in his tracks. Staring intently at the fem-tiger-bot, half of him knows it's a trap, but the other half can't take his optics off her. He ignores Tantrum's questions, becoming totally fixated on the mecha-tigress before him. He approaches her cautiously, uttering a low growl.

Sky Lynx sent out his transmission, one-- he caused a fire in an oil field, probably killed human lives, destroyed so much land-- now this. His nerves of his cortex were all ready rattled. He was perhaps a mental mess of believeing that he couldn't handle anything right any more and this in itself seemed to be adding to it.

Was he this much of a screw up? Was he actually hitting those years were his age had catched up to him? Slagging all....

Sky Lynx leaped into the air and once he got high enough, he transformed into his shuttle mode, slamming on his thrusters and blasted for space.

"Me Grimlock coming for you!" So says, well, Grimlock. Lesser traps are trampled underfoot, along with a good amount of the foilage as well- the Dinobot shoulders his way through the jungle, clearing a path before him! He thunders forwards...and then pauses as he catches sight of Rampage ogling a girl-bot. "Me Grimlock say you Preddy-con need get out more."

Arcee stares for only a brief moment at the trap thing that's coming at her before she gives a startled holler and takes off, trying to duck into the woods surrounding to avoid getting gobbled up by some psychotic Marmite on tank treads. Her foot slips a couple of times, nearly sending her crashing to the ground and right in the way of getting caught, but she manages to keep her feet under her. "Don't even know what I'm looking for..."

Slowly, Ramjet gets to his feet. He doesn't bother staying in one place -- he wants to find that Lord Chumley or his servant, Dinnsmore and give them a piece of his mind! By mind, he means his cone, and by piece he means a severe headbutting! Venturing into the trees, the Decepticon jet goes on his slow search!

Powerglide begins to jump up and down, pointing at the Chumley shaped helicopter in the sky. "WHAT. WHAT. DOES NO ONE ELSE SEE THAT!? SHOOT IT, ALREADY!" He reaches over and grabs onto Silverbolt's arm, shaking him as violently as a guy his size can, "SHOOT IT SO I CAN GO HOME."

Whether Dinsmoore or Lord Chumley was the one who thought the female tiger trick would work is unimportant now. The important thing is that it seems to be. The robo-tiger-babe is not programmed to respond to Tantrum's presence and so does not. The tiger playfully steps towards Rampage, batting its lashes the whole way as it tries to nuzzle with the Predacon. Unknown to both Rampage and Tantrum, deep inside the belly of this female is a ticking time bomb. No, seriously. An actual time bomb. It is silently counting down the seconds before it can send it, Rampage, and Tantrum to oblivion. Will Tantrum be able to save Rampage??? Will Rampage remember that bros come before hos???

Dinsmoore merely doesn't seem to react as Chumley suddenly sprints for the escape hatch. He looks up and squints in the sunlight. "Very good, sir," Dinsmoore says, even though there's no way Chumley will be able to hear. The manservant begins to shuffle back towards the jeep, possibly to active another weapon with which to kill Grimlock.

Lord Chumley's helicopter that is in the shape of his own head rises higher, hovering above the scene. Sitting snug in the cushioned interior, Lord Chumley can't help but smile, firing some heat-seeking missiles that look like Buckingham Palace at Ramjet.

Below, he watches as the giant jar of Marmite looks set to gobble up Arcee, spraying out a black goo at the femmebot to try to ensnare her. "Pity..." Chumley muses, brushing his moustache with a comb. "I would have liked to stuff and mount her..."

Still, with a little shake of his dino-mode head, Grimlock stomps forwards, sniffing a bit...he probably doesn't have THAT acute a sense of smell, but it's worth a try, if nothing else. Even still, it seems to lead him towards that jeep anyway, and so Grimlock lets out an "Aha! Me Grimlock find you!" With that, he LEAPS forward, aiming to land on the jeep before Dinsmoore can get into the thing! Smashy smashy!

Suddenly, a tree is pushed aside as Dinsmoore goes for his jeep. Ramjet, damaged and highly annoyed, appears! "RARGH!" He snarls terrifyingly, making a sound instead of a word because he is melting down with rage. Stomping forward, he places a foot down on the jeep. "I'M GOING TO PUT YOU IN A WHEELCHAIR!" Ramjet howls at Dinsmoore. Curling his hands into fists, Ramjet flexes forward and slams his coned head at Dinsmoore!

.. and then, Grmlock leaps forward, knocking Ramjet over! "ARG!" The missiles that were flying for him are now headed right for Grimlock, by proxy of him being right there instead!

Yes, Arcee is still running. And she's trying her hardest not to slow down. She is /certainly/ not interested in being stuffed and/or mounted, whether it be themely or QooC! Nor is she interested in being gobbled up by the giant jar of Marmite! She glances skyward, noting the helicopter, though she can't slow down to get a good shot at it. Snapping out her energy whip, she uses it to snare the branch of a conveniently thick tree and swing a bit further ahead. "Can't somebody slow this thing down...?!"

Silverbolt hasn't lost track of Arcee....as a matter of fact...she's running right towards him. he does notice the chumley-coptor.....and aims his rifle at it.....and does....once Arcee is nicely safe. If she isn't....well....he fires at the marmite jar.

Mecha-Tiger <Rampage> listens carefully, and he hears a ticking noise. His memories harken back to a Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner cartoon he'd seen where the Coyote tried to trick the Roadrunner with a bomb-infested fem-bot-Roadrunner. "Tantrum, GET DOWN! IT'S GOING TO BLOW!" the Tiger roars, turning back and leaping for his life.

Dinsmoore reaches for the door handle. Just as his cold clammy fingers touch it, Ramjet suddenly bursts out into the clearing. One of the fallen trees lands smack dab in front of the jeep as if symbolically cutting off the escape route. Ramjet /roars/ at Dinsmoore, and his wispy hair flutters behind him at the massive volumes of wind that Ramjet expels. Dinsmoore slowly turns and looks up at the gigantic Conehead as if barely noticing him. He squints, apparently unsure of what it even is in front of him. Ramjet lowers his head and-

-Grimlock smashes into the Seeker, knocking him over and saving Lord Chumley's manservant. Still peering in the direction that Ramjet was for a few extra seconds, Dinsmoore finally goes back to his task of getting back into the jeep. In the back, the tea meant for Lord Chumley has gone cold. There will be hell to pay for that...

Elsewhere, the female tiger is mere split-seconds away from blowing up (Women. Am I right guys or what?). The Predacon gunner notices the ticking, but is it too late??? A massive fireball consumes the female robo-tiger from the inside out, spewing sharp shards of metal in all directions. The demented frag grenade's explosion is immense, and it remains to be seen if Rampage got far away enough to survive the blast. Either way, the surrounding area has now caught on fire. Hopefully it will not all burn down like Texas did last night.

Powerglide grabs onto his head and continues jumping around, "GOD, SHOOT IT ALREADY! ARGH! THIS IS STUPID!" Growing impatient, the minibot transforms into his alt mode and takes to the skies, wanting to end this ridiculous series of events as quickly as possible. Engines roaring with all the fury a Warthog from the Bronx can, the plane ascends quicker and quicker, wobbling a tad in frustration. With a barely audible *click*, one of the missiles under his right wing unfastens and soars straight towards the Chumley Chopper (tm)!

Catechism has been called in to assist her fellow member of the pointy head department. She's a little while off, but she'll get there eventually. She wonders what Ramjet has gotten himself into this time. Humans troubling Decepticon warriors? What, is this the EDC acting up again or just random crazies?

"Aaargh!" Grimlock is missiled! Between the abuse he's suffered thus far, and the missiles on top of this...well, he's hurting- but just enough to make him angry. And hey, look, Ramjet! Grimlock LOOOMS over the seeker, teeth glinting terribly under the jungle sun. "Me Grimlock not able to get ANYTHING done!" he growls- and then lashes out with his teeth, aiming to put the bite on that annoying conehead!

The Marmite jar explodes, marmite spraying everywhere as Silverbolt shoots it, saving Arcee from a delicious fate. This is not the only explosion however, as the female tiger's head flies through the air, smashing into the Chumleycopter, which starts to reel and tumble to the ground, smoking.

"DIIIIIINSMOOOOOORE!" shouts Chumley, shaking a fist as the copter is shot by Powerglide too. The Lord takes out his 'Emergency Crash Kit' which is a box containing a copy of the Argos catalogue and some Cadburys Creme eggs, which he calmly eats, as the helicoptor ploughs into the ground with an almighty BOOOOOOM!

Silverbolt is....splorted by marmite. he stands there with a rather silly look on his face as he wipes it off with one hand. "yuck." He says as he turns his head to track Arcee's progess through the air.

Ramjet catches Grimlock's dino-jaws in time! Applying force to both sides of the Dinobot's mouth, he struggles with trying to keep him from biting! "Nnn.. rrgh... arrgh!" He looks to be losing but that doesn't stop him from requesting aid.

Arcee stops just in time to see the head crash into the chopper above-head. She puts a hand against her forehead and sighs. Well, at least she wasn't devoured by a marmite-filled jar with tank treads. "Today started out normal. Now it's just a little insane." Finally she calls out "Thanks, Silverbolt!" And then she's off again, toward the fallen chopper!

Silverbolt is also heading towards the fallen chopper....with marmite dripping off of places....well you don't wanna know.....

The helicopter is on the ground, a flaming fireball. But, like the cartoon villain he is, Lord Chumley staggers from the wreckage, a slight dabbling of soot on his face, and his hair a bit ruffled. "Drat and blast!" he mutters, looking at the destruction as the Transformers move in. "And I had lunch with the King tomorrow!"

Dinsmoore meanwhile has slipped into the jeep. He calmly flicks a switch, and the vehicle shimmers out of view, cloaking itself from prying eyes and ears. "Ooooooh dear," Dinsmoore says to himself with a sly smile. "I had better make a care package for the master for when I visit him in prison..." He clutches the steering wheels and begins driving off.

A-10 Thunderbolt does a barrel roll, or five, in celebration of his (and the robot tiger's head) victory. "Ugh, yes, now I can go home and return to berating Foxfire for being a useless drain on the Autobot forces." He quickly drops altitude, lands, transforms, and assimilates himself with Arcee and Silverbolt. "DID YOU SEE THAT? DAMN, I'M GOOD!"

"Rhrrhrhrhrhghr!" Grimlock would probably say something a little more coherent, but Ramjet's sticking his fingers in his mouth. Yet, much like an alligator, Grimlock's jaws can shut with a great deal of force- enough to shear off seeker fingers, if the jet isn't quick enough! Unlike an alligator, however, Grimlock has great big feet...which the dinobot puts to good use, aiming to bring up one clawed foot to *STOMP* down on Ramjet's toes!

The explosion flings the Tiger to the ground, farther than he could have leaped. Some shrapnel is embedded in his back end and legs. One piece is lodged in a servo, making it very painful to stand up. So he lies there.

Silverbolt isn't really paying attention to Powerglide. He IS, however, keeping pace with Arcee towards CHumley. Even though he's still dripping Marmite....he draws his rifle and points it at Chumley. "Hand up CHumley."

Lord Chumley doesn't look too upset at being captured. More annoyed really. As a world-famous game hunter getting arrested by the authorities is a danger of the job. He raises his hands and walks towards the Autobots, making sure to step on a rare butterfly as he does so. "Yes yes quite!" he scoffs. "Just make sure my jail cell has a television in it this time, I would hate to miss Doctor Who..."

A few of Ramjet's fingers are sheared off by Grimlock. "AGH!" He snarls, coughing up a glob of energon in pain. "When are these idiots getting here!? I'll crash Dreadwind for sure -- I just -know- he is taking for.. OW!!!" He yelps, pulling his foot back when Grimlock stomps on his foot. "Why.. you!" Pulling his damaged hand back, Ramjet taps a button just under the wheel-well of his left pectoral. The entire compartment flips open, revealing an assortment of cluster rockets. Pulling one out with his damaged hand, Ramjet presses his thumb on the activator. "Hungry, Dinoboob!?" He howls angrily, "Enjoy a meatball!" He balls up his other fist and slams it on Grimlock's nose, so he can get the Dinobot to open his jaws just long enough to lob the mini-rocket down his gullet!

Arcee stares at Chumley in that sort of blank, quiet way of hers, looking just a little bit surprised. "...you are... the strangest human I have ever had the displeasure of knowing about." She glances at Silverbolt. "...and you could do for a run through the washrack." She doesn't pay much mind to Powerglide. She's gotten quite good at that over time.

Powerglide crouches down to /glare/ at Chumley. "Doctor Who? DOCTOR WHO?" He grinds his teeth, "That show was the reason for my being banned from the beekeeping associaton! I HATE DOCTOR WHO!"

Lord Chumley twirls his moustache as he grins at Powerglide. "Oh, is that right good sir? Well, I happen to own a copy of all your files, and I know why you were really banned." He polishes his monacle. "...so you'd better BEE nice to me and sort out that television. With Sky Plus, I think..."

Catechism sees that Ramjet is tangoing with Grimlock. Since he's called for help, help she shall yield. Like someone on the Discovery Channel, Catechism attempts to a grab a very large, dangerous reptile by his tail, exclaiming, "Crikey! You've got a big one here, Ramjet. What a brute!"

F-16 Falcon flies along apparently without a care in the world, though of course anyone that can identify the jet as Dreadwind knows all too well what weighty emotions he carries. For a scrambled call of help he's not exactly moving at top speed and of course he hasn't bothered to do anything that was requested.

"Grr!" Grimlock is bonked on the nose- and then he gets a mouthful of explosion! Grimlock blinks a coulple of times, peering down at Ramjet...and then he opens his mouth (still smoking at the corners), and breathes fire at the seeker! "Rargh! Me Grimlock no-" he pauses, and then looks back at Catechism- and then lifts his tail a bit- enough to lift Catechism off the ground, if she hangs on. "What you want?"

"Ga-kkk!" Ramjet burbles as Grimlock unleashes his hellish indigestion. Flames bathe him -- however briefly, thanks to the timely intervention of Catechism. Paint chars along with a top-layer of his surface-plating, leaving him with a fresh and painful suntan. Beach Fun Edition Ramjet rocks onto his feet, just as Grimlock begins giving Catechism the jello-wiggle. "Hold him in place long enough for us to radio assistance!" He reaches out with his left arm, straightening out the rifle mounted at his shoulder. Ramjet fires bursts of laserfire at Grimlock's face as he radios for aid.

Silverbolt chuckles at Arcee but then looks at Chumley. "If you didn't DO this...you wouldn't HAVE to worry about TV. maybe depriving you of TV for a while will keep you from doing this. Whaddayasay?" His grin is almost evil.......but then he looks to Arcee. "Nah....I like a more....personal touch." He says jokingly.

Powerglide gasps and brings a hand to his chest as if he was just shot in the pixelized heart! "You..you wouldn't DARE expose that to the public... W-would you?" He jumps up and raises his fists, "Okay! Everyone, make sure he gets as much Doctor Who as he wants!"

As Ramjet blusters at Dreadwind over the Decepticon commlink, a series of small green-and-purple robots descend from the sky. They land a few meters off, into the underbrush, and promptly slip out of the greenery to greet Catechism, Grimlock, and Ramjet.

"Yo yo yo!" One of the tiny-by-comparison robots greets.

"Whassup my nizzles!!" Another one clanks its clamps in hello.

"S'up, R.--?" The lead robot, with a red monocamera for a face, salutes Ramjet but stops when it spies Grimlock. "OH SHIT IT'S BIG GRIM! RUN EVERYONE!"

The Mini-Constructicons flee into the trees.

F-16 Falcon angles his flight to intercept the now ongoing battle between Grimlock, Catechism and the annoyingly loud Ramjet, "This is never going to work at best it will mean that all three of us will end up severely crippled and in excruciating pain, by primus i hate life." Finally getting into raneg DReadwind opens up on Grimlock with his thermal melters.

Arcee gives a bit of a faint smile, glancing up at Silverbolt before looking down at Chumley. "While I have the distinct feeling you won't learn your lesson from this--..." She trails off, then turns. "...I'm going to go help Grimlock, Silverbolt. Take care of this?"

Silverbolt chuckles at Arcee. "Only if you meet me in the washrack. You need a new coat of wax, Arcee." he says teasingly before leaning down to pick up CHumley. "Tell you what CHumley. You go to prison for this....BUT.....If you're willing....we could always talk about making this a bit of a sport for later. Only IF you behave. K?"

Lord Chumley is led off by some police that have appeared from nowhere. He winks at Powerglide. "Write to me, won't you!"

Powerglide visibly gags.

--

BIG GAME HUNTER HUNTED - Associated Press

Earlier today the noted game hunter, Lord Chumley was arrested by UN security forces assisted by the Autobots after a skirmish in his African nature reserve. Chumley, 103, is a world-renowned figure in the field of hunting and genocide, having hunted many species to extinction, from the largest elephant to the smallest fly, and even several strata of rocks. It was recently believed that he had turned over a new leaf when he purchased Africa's largest nature reserve, pledging to protect all the endangered animals there. Instead he turned it into a Machiavellian deathtrap.

"This is a tragedy" said a spokesman for the park's trust. "No-one could have seen it coming. It was a complete shock."

Lord Chumley is currently being held at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, awaiting extensive psychoanalysis. However, this has caused outrage from Britain, who state that though Chumley's crime took place on international soil, he has the right to be extradited and tried in Britain.

In a statement from Prime Minister Tennant's office, a spokesman informed the press that "Britain of course has a high intolerance of criminal activities, but we will not see a British citizen held in such appalling conditions. We demand he be extradited back to Britain immediately, where he will face trial and a strict sentence. Often we have been criticized for the laxity of our punishments, but I can inform you that the maximum sentence for Chumley would be a nine month probationary order, an ankle tag fitted, and a stern letter sent to his home address."

Lord Chumley's lawyers have already petitioned the European Court of Human Rights to fight the extradition order, declaring the punishment he faces in his home country 'horrific' and 'inhumane'.

America has yet to respond to the request, but as a warning, Britain has begun to embargo America, cutting off all supplies of precious Marmite, salad cream and digestive biscuits, forcing a crisis and panic buying. --