One Round Only: The

Magnus needs to go wash off the stink of capitalism. And or glitter.

He's airborne when Convoy City reaches the end of the usable line, what with Johnson's massive robot destroying large chunks of track when The spawned it in.
Someone maybe should've stopped the City before it reached that point, but the current captain of this ship is A Certain Pup.

Everyone knows dogs can't drive. Everyone on board the City quickly also knows that trains don't stop just because they run out of track. A shitton, give or take a fuckload, of sand is kicked up as the front end of the City ploughs into the dunes.

The stick figure dons his hat and surveys his surroundings. He sees sparkles and a unicorn, then figures that the creature would help him get up to speed. He decides to catch up the only way he knows how: He jams his chaingreatsword on the ground and mounts it like some pogo-stick. Revving its engines, he digs up the dirt at high speeds as he crosses 30m pretty quickly before tripping on a rock and falls flat on the ground, just a few feet away from the unicorn.

"Oooff, I need to get the hang of that."

"Ooh a customer!" She yells (broodily) as she manages to shoot a jet of glitter at Bobby despite being crushed by an ogre.

The stick figure gets up from his gaffe and dusts the shimmering glitter off himself. He curtly introduces himself with a nod with his hat.

"Hello, the name's Bobby. Say, you're selling something? Alright, that sounds nice."

Wrigley is busy licking all the buttons in the engine room when Convoy City runs out of track.

The Chief Engineer had a thing for dried jerky, okay?

Wrigley plows snoot-first into the BIG RED BUTTON in the middle of the engine room's control panel.

"YELP" she yelps.

THOOM goes Convoy City's emergency rocket booster, propelling it swiftly toward the towering mesas of THE PILLAR FOREST.

[color=#]this is going just fantastic, the said

The initially didn't bother looking up their color code, but decided that that would just look messy. Not that The cared about mess. Mess was just a sign of sufficient speed.

"Fantastic," The began, from their vantage point, and didn't bother finishing

Jeremia blinks, starin' up at the clouds whizzin' past above her head. Damn, her head. One of those bloody monstrous freaks o' nature musta knocked her over or somethin' in whatever ass-si-nine family reunion was goin' on just now. Real shame they prob'ly wouldn't even notice if she shot 'em, what with that thick skin and rock skulls, cause she's startin' to get mighty tempted. She sets up, rubbin' her temples and lookin' 'round the alleyway. Her face an' hair is covered in dirt, an' her thrice-damned horse ain't nowhere to be seen.

Then again, maybe it weren't the others fault after all, 'cause it looks they musta suffered near the same fate she did. The idiot brigade, or at least some of 'em, is piled up near the back of the alley, rubbin' their heads and pickin' themselves up. She takes another good look at the sky. Say, ain't that an awful lot faster than it were goin' just a bit ago?

What in tarnation is goin' on? An' what in the divil's seventh basement possessed her to go to this blasted idiotic guldammed deathtrap metal rocketing shamble of a slum lowdown city-dandy-infested tarhole anyway?

She don't know, but she's positive she can find out if she just uses a little more gun.

(I'm just assuming everybody is in the same general area as one another (except for Magnus, of course) because setting has been a little vague)

The sudden change in momentum momentarily disorients Bobby. To counteract the sudden event, he stabs his chaingreatsword onto the ground and grips the handle for dear life. His fedora flies away for a second before he reaches out a hand to grab it and avoid losing one of his defining quirks.

"Phew, that was close. I can't lose my hat just yet."

GROTHOK TAKES FEDORA

GROTHOK IS KING OF FASHION

PRINCESS POPTART bedazzles the SHIT out of Grothok.

Shiny ork.

Wrigley sticks her head out the window of the engine car's room and pants, tongue flapping in the wind.

This isn't a post or anything but I just want to say that dog is freaking cute.

Bobby loses a bit of his composure.

"Hey! Give that back!"

He dislodges his greatchainsword, performs a pinwheel spin midair, and heads right for the orc with the chainsaw teeth at high speeds.

DODGE

THROW FEDORA AT HORSE

PLUCK FEDORA FROM SKY HALFWAY BETWEEN ORC AND HORSE

wait that's not my text gimmick well, whatever

"HEY GIVE THAT HAT BACK. YOU'RE DOING CRIME THINGS."

Poptart tries to karate-chop the magpie. Do you know unicorns are well versed in martial arts? No? Well, now its true.

"Alley-oop!"

Bobby digs his weapon into the ground and uses the chainsaw property to move towards his hat by carving his chaingreatsword along the ground.

Jeremia has had enuff o' this. A deafenin' roar rises from her custom six-shooter as she fires all six chambers near simow-, sumultinis-, simultanayus-, simutarneo-, su-, simt-, she fires all six chambers near at the same time, and the stupid hat that the entire cast of the Ringley Freak Show Circus Extraordinaire seemed t' be fightin' over falls to the ground, riddled with holes.

She slowly, quietly reloads her revolver as she stares them down and begins to ask them jest what in the sulphurous pits OF THE DIVIL'S RED ASS IS GOIN' ON? NOW, WOULD IT BE TOO MUCH TER ASK FOR ALLA YOU TO STOP TRAIPSIN' AROUN' LIKE A BUNCH OF IMBYCILLIC GOATS, NOT PAYIN' HALF AN ATTENTION TO ANY OF THE DUNG YER BUSY BURYIN' YER FACES IN? ALL SHE WANTED WAS TO HAVE A LITTLE FUN, SHOOT A FEW PEOPLE, BUT NOW SHE'S STARTIN' TER THINK THAT SHE MIGHT JUST BE DOIN' THEM, AND THE WORLD, A SERVICE.

As a matter of fact, she's pretty sure she's gonna shoot anyone who doesn't get on up out her way, right now. That's what The wanted, right? Fast.

The decides that Jeremia wins, and plucks her from the world. They then forget completely about her, leaving her in a 2001-esque hotel suite. Well then. The doesn't have that much of an attention span.

If this seems as something of a snap decision, please remember that The is incapable of making any other sort.

So here we are: Convoy City launches itself off the rails, and towards the face of a horde of (suddenly) giant robots. Perhaps the rest of the contestants die. Perhaps they don't. The thinks they're good as dead, and that's good enough as far as The is concerned.

The watches an infinity of TV channels, ten seconds at a time.

THE END?

Yay?