One Round Only: The

"AS JESUS AS MY WITNESS, I'M GOING TO FUCKING TAX YOUR MOTHER!" Screeched Johnson, googly eyes seething with rage, and noodly arms a-flailing, slamming multiple legal papers repeatedly on the unevenly-shaped noggin of the green brute."Do NOT slam me into the ground, you asparagus FUCK! I'll have you know that my-

Wait, who are those two down there? Oh. OHHH, that's the trigger happy cowboy lady, and that's the strangely dressed unicorn, who-...now has a job at the postal office?
Aaaand, she threw a spear at them. How are unicorns even capable of throwing a spear without thumbs? Johnson didn't know. But the cowboy lady seems to be speaking.

"This ain't football."

This made the brute pause.

It took a few minutes of deep thinking for him to reply with a defeated mutter- or what can be called a mutter for an ogre.

"SORRY"

...
...
...
"Can you put me down? I'm not a cliff rock, I'm just a river stone, and we don't like being this high in the air,"Johnson begged, the hight making the drop look even higher for the little rock. "please, I bruise easily!"

The ogre placed Johnson on the ground haphazardly, which caused johnson to almost trip. "Thank you," he said haughtily, brushing dust off himself. "I appreciate being violently nabbed, and almost being used as a football."

"WELCOME" replied the ogre, beaming, a tad too dim to catch the angry sarcasm radiating from the flustered rock.

An awkward silence enveloped the small group, small coughs breaking the thick silence once in a while. The green brute shuffled his feet, bringing a cloud of dust, and a question from his toothy maw.

"DOES ROCKS LIKE ROCK MUSIC?"
...
...
...
"Yes.".

Magnus, meanwhile

had finally caught up with the city. Under cover of dust cloud atop exhausted horse he'd snuck up to the rear of the great machine, and found the end with all the dust and smoke quite hostile by design against boarders. What wasn't sheer in slope was high and barbed and interrupted by strategic smooth panels that would've been a heck to get a grip on of. It made a certain amount of sense, Magnus had to concede. The cities - the business end - that was all front of house, always would be if the whole world was a belt, so no honest dealer would be trying to find their way in from this angle.

The horse flicked an ear irritably. Magnus' phone was still buzzing, and the horse had finally had enough of trying to buck him off, so he unclamped a snaking arm from the reins and fished it out of his pocket.

"Hey Dad." Magnus' eyes glazed over; not just because his mad scientist adoptive father was freaking out down the phone but also because he was a bird and they've got these cool nictitating membranes. It was, as I've mentioned, frightfully dusty. "For real? That's real neat, dad. Still not sure, lark, what I'm dune here. If it's-" Magnus paused here to cackle at his own idea of a joke "-some kinda, one of your, tween fantaahsy advnchaa stories, and I gotta save a-a-a-a princess-"

The horse most certainly did not approve of this teen using a phone while operating a vehicle, because it was a police horse and also the teen was a hardened criminal. That, or it didn't like Magnus' caws. It's hard to tell with horses.

"Dad, Dad. Dad. I'll take care of myself. It's what I've always done, yeah?"

Magnus cocked his head. "Yeah yeah yeah yeah. I'll call you once I'm settled in."

And with that, he gave the horse a mechanical pat, pulled off his hoodie, and stretched his wings. The horse bolted, as prey animals are inclined to do when a large dark wingspan suddenly whooshes right behind 'em.

With his hoodie in one hand and a cellphone in the other, Magnus leapt off the horse and swiftly gained height.

Princess Poptart would enjoy the adorable friendship between a Rock Guy and an Orc but also the city??? Stopped???

"Oh shit, the city stopped! That ruins the point of the city's name!"

"You just realized?" A postman said nearby.

"Yes but for some reason I feel morally obligated to fix it! Maybe I'll get paid." She flies off to what she thinks might be the speed control, after picking up her spear and brooding of course.

Magnus alights like an inky little storm cloud on what he was affectionately calling the poop deck, because he's an immature teen and also a bird and doesn't have time to be all stern and serious when there's a global hub of trade and business to be exploring.

There's several warehouses' worth of floor space all laid out with fuel and spare machinery and chimneys and industrial-looking lifts that must lead down into the bowels (*Magnus laughing*) of the city, but Magnus is more concerned with how they haul all this up and in here. Ahead of him is all the right-outta-my-young-adult-fantasy-novels market streets, which look way too narrow to let all these huge crates through. Magnus has seen apartments smaller than these, dang.

He looks up at the big shoveoff imposing wall that's shielding off this end of the city-ship-car-train-whatever, and his keen bird senses spot a skeletal shape breaking up the curvature. A crane! Or a lift. Or whatever. It hauls things up, including horses.

With all hands further forward on the deck fighting raiders, it's quick uninterrupted work for Magnus to fly back onto the wall, and figure out which button lowers the lift. He races it down, beating it despite lazy circling-about on the desert updrafts.

His horse isn't where he left it, which kind of sucks because Magnus has no idea where it could've gone. Experimentally, he yells into the dust cloud "Fuck the police!" hoping the police horse gets real offended and comes and tries to tell him his rights.

Instead, he's answered by the purr of a motor, and the silhouette of a figure on a dirt bike emerging from the dust.

"Fuuuuck the police?" Magnus asks, a little more cautious.

"Fuck the police!" affirms the raider. Magnus high-fives 'em.

Johnson hated awkward silences, especially when a certain horned horse just up and leaves you here between an irritated postman and two people who can easily crush you into little rocky particles. Really turned Johnson's mood from slightly sour to down right acidic enough to dissolve himself from the inside out.

Johnson looked at his legal papers, now all dirty and covered with mud and dust that now obscured most of his neat hand writing. He has to start all over again, which he can't even do because these were his last papers, and his pen was lost during the ogre kidnapping because he tried to stab the beast in the ear. How did it get lost? The pen just disappeared, because the ear just fucking ate it. Johnson needed a drink.[/color]

"Hey ogre, I'll give you a dollar for a ride to the city. A whole dollar, for all your ogre-y needs!"

"WHAT IS DOLLAR?"

"Uh, you can...buy stuff with it! Like-uh-clothes, animals, food-"

"GROTHOK CAN GET FOOD WITH DOLLAR?"

"Yes. I mean, if you want. Your name is Grotho-"

"GROTHOK TAKE ROCK, GIVE DOLLAR, GROTHOK GET FOOD"

Before Johnson could open his mouth to agree with the deal, He was roughly picked up and placed on the the ogre's shoulder, holding on for dear life as Grothok ran across the dusty desert, headed towards the edge of the city.

Yikes Princess Poptart is lost because she has no idea where the controls for the speed thing is. Princess Poptart is not very smart. She's a horse.

Or Was She???

Anyway enough of that backstory nonsense she just starts asking for directions for the speed thing to SAVE the CITT or something.

"Slow, slow, slow. Too slow."

The looked down upon the growing mess below. "Speed things up. More action. More."

"What to do."

The didn't bother with snapping their fingers, because snapping fingers wasted time.

A gigantic robot came thundering forward from the horizon and began smashing things about.

Most importantly, the rails the city ran on, up ahead, were rapidly ceasing to be 1) rails and 2) three-dimensional, as the giant robot ran towards them.

"Okay. Hurry up."

There was a lot of noise. Wrigley was not the biggest fan of noise, and also not the biggest fan of the large dusty man who smelled bad and was making a significant amount of the most nearby noise.

Wrigley barked, and jumped into the large man, and sent him flying backwards into the hot space. She felt it was right.

"HEY SOMEONE GET THIS DOG OUT O-OOF"

Chief Engineer Symon Dixon had worked the engine car of Convoy City for only a few months, so he could be forgiven for not knowing the protocol when the rails began to ran out and MECHAZORD THE UNCONQUERABLE arrived for their bi-annual MECHARAID.

Of course, he'd pay the price whether he'd read the Chief Engineer's Manual cover-to-cover or not, as page 236 MECHAZORD CONTINGENCY PROTOCOL made clear. Convoy City demanded BLOOD.

The Engine, sated, Roars.

Wrigley has a new hat! She likes the hat, and also snuffles at all these neat buttons in the room she's in.

CLIMB THE ROBOT

PUNCH ITS FACE

Magnus spots the robot as his first liftload of raiders goes "ding" at the top. He's completely unruffled by this because giant monsters attack his city like, all the damn time. There's contingencies for shit like this.

Some of the raiders scream, because it's not a giant killer robot attack without a good background of cries of fear and distress. They quit it after a hot minute because screaming's damn tiring on a hot desert day. Magnus ties his sweater around his head to keep the sun off, not giving much of a shit about stretching the sleeves cuz he can't use them anyway. Dude's got wings.

He says to the raider with the sickest decals on his bike, the leader, "Hey so, you guys solemnly swear to like, steal the product you need and head off back into the sands after?"

"Aye, and to take good care of your meatbike if we find it," nods the crime dude. A couple of her compatriots have already climbed down into the cargo area, and were busting open crates with crowbars. Magnus catches a lobbed water bottle in one foot, and everyone applauds both him and the thrower seeing as that was like a 70-ft vertical height to clear. Good shit.

"Kicking rad," quoth the magpie, only to be cut off by a ferocious clang. Up ahead in the distance, he saw a shimmering fight - Grothok had scaled the robot -
the whining rock Johnson in tow - and caved in half its metal face. The entire vista wavered in the desert heat.

"A rad replete in kicks indeed," affirmed the raider chief. "Believe you me, bloodless theft from those with money enough to amass this much water is a much nicer state of affairs. Who'd think we enjoy terrorising craftsfolk and middlemen?"

"I would," says Magnus, struggling with the cap on the water bottle. "Enjoy freaking out some wage slaves, I mean. Like, yeah, stealing straight from a water tycoon is, lark, where it's super-hells-of-at, but when it's slim pickings and lean times you gotta make your own fun just to cope, yeah?"

The raider rescues Magnus' bottle, and holds it at a steady angle for Magnus' robot arms to twist it open. "Too true, my feathered friend, too true." She grabs another from the pile of supplies the other raiders are extracting from amidst the cargo, opens it, then clunks plastic bottles with the magpie. "Cheers. If you're not elsewhere imposed, I'd love to have you and your wings on hand the next time the train rolls through-"

????: "Hey! You! You raiders up there! And that bird!"

Magnus: "Aw beans"

SpoilerShow

Who's discovered Magnus? It can be basically anyone who's on the boat

Johnson has fallen inside the robot, which is not really a surprise since ogres don't have seatbelts. Why did he think this was a good idea in the first place? Taking a ride on a ogre? Really Johnson?

Johnson sighed. The ogre forgot about him completely, short attention span and all, so now Johnson is stuck in a robo cranium with no visible way out. Johnson thought that if he starved to death, he wouldn't have to deal with loony baloney, but rocks can't even eat baloney. ROCKS CAN'T EAT OR STARVE! Johnson angrily threw his suit case against the robot's skull, because it's USELESS.

Johnson heard something click. A seamless doorway appeared where his suitcase had contact with the wall, beckoning Johnson like a freshly baked plate of lasagna. Johnson doesn't know what lasagna is, but it sounds exotic. He walked up to the doorway, and took a peek. Doesn't hurt, right?

Buttons, levers, pullies and switches, and other mechanical majiggers covered the walls from floor to ceiling, shiny and bright. A big, beautiful chair stood in the middle of the room. A chair for important people. A chair for Important rocks like Johnson .

When Johnson walked up and sat himself down on the chair, a robotic female voiced came from the above speakers "What command awaits us, sir?"

"Make the robot stand upright again, I want it moving right this minute."
"Sure thing, sir!"

The robot lurched from it's slumber, face crushed like a tin can, but still functioning at a decent rate. Johnson's chair kept him stable as the robot stood on his feet, wobbling, but ready for battle.

"Go to the middle of the city, and wreck shit. Especially food mart, because they wouldn't accept refunds, and that makes me moderately peeved!"

"Of course, sir!"

"Also, stop by the arts and crafts shop, I need pom poms and glitter. Can't look evil without looking pretty first! Evil doesn't have to pay taxes, evil doesn't tip."

"That's kind of a dick move, sir."

" Yeah, that's too far, let's just go to that big building in the middle, it probably has important paperwork. LET'S GO AND THREATEN THOSE GUYS WITH LEGAL ACTION!"

The robot lurched toward the huge building, and reached it in mere seconds. Johnson could get used to this kinda thing! Johnson spotted a few people loitering at the top. Johnson could also see a giant bird with robo arms looking all cool and stuff. Johnson doesn't know this guy, but he already has mad respect. Maybe they know where you can buy Pom Poms and glitter at a good price for evil use? They look like raiders, maybe they'll think you're cool too!

Johnson activated the built in speaker attached to the robots forehead. It might be hanging by a thread, but the robot lady says it works alright. A Johnson's voice erupts from the speakers, magnified 10 fold.

"Hey! You! You raiders up there! And that bird!"
Well that caught their attention. A few even jumped.

"you guys know where I can find good quality pom poms and glitter accessories for a solid price? I want to look pretty but also threatening so that would be nice!

GROTHOK SECRETLY RIDES ATOP THE ROBOT

I MEAN

secretly

SHH

Meanwhile, while saving the city, also ignoring the humongous and plot in the background, she finds tons of crates.

She opens one and HOLY CRAP, stamps. What a good day to be an unicorn goth princess.

Magnus stares at the robot. The raiders stare at the robot. "Do you know this guy-" asks Magnus, and he stops, because the raider chief asked him at the exact same time. "No," they both say, then Magnus shrugs and says "I'll handle the robot."

"My thanks," says the raider, who signals to her crew that they should probably haul ass out of here. Half their squad were still doing sick stunts round the front of the ship, generally harassing the populace and distracting the city-zens from the fact their normally-impregnable back walls were crawling with thieves (and also a unicorn?) courtesy of some nefarious crime bird. With the robot yelling at them though, the guards would arrive sooner rather than later - unfortunate, for these particular raiders were all about the sweet merch and definitely not all about that casual murder of those who stood in their way.

"Unless it's cops," added the raider chief.

"Oh yeah," Magnus nodded vigorously. "Fuck cops." He decided not to mention his horse's previous line of work. He cupped his wings (and also for good measure his robo-claws) around his beak like a megaphone. "Did you say pompoms and glitter!?"

"What." Bellowed back Johnson in the robot. "I can't hear you."

Magnus thought this was hecks of inefficient so he just spread his gorgeous wings and flew up at the robot's face. He tried perching on its shoulder but there was an orc there, which was awkward.

"Uh, hi."

"SSSH. I mean sssh"

Magnus abides with a wink, and goes and perches on the other shoulder and hollers in the earhole. "Hey robot."

"I'm not a robot, I'm a rock!"

"And I'm a biological mess of meat and hollowed-out bones in a feather coat. Don't hate. I'm like your official craft supplies supplier or whatever, but can you keep it down? My dudes down there were mining their own business out from under someone else's business, and now you've gone and upped the gig."

"I don't care?" said Johnson, but he did turn down his volume enough that maybe he did care. "Just get me my pom poms and glitter?"

"Fiiiine I'll hook you up," groaned Magnus, and he flew off to go find a craft store.

Meanwhile, Poptart is snorting up craft glitter like it was cocaine. Maybe there is a perfectly good reason for this but it involves *~~dark secrets~~*.

Magnus rocks up, sees a unicorn and is like "hey uh where'd you get that, do you have a dealer, can you hook me up cuz I've gotta go all Lisa Frank on a rock's ass so they don't crash my mates' raiding party and maybe also destroy the actual gears of a global economy?"

Poptart probably doesn't give a shit about any of this which is fair because Magnus got a D in English class. Which his dad taught him because homeschooling's for the birds whose dads are also supervillains. The unicorn gives the magpie a look like "That didn't make sense" and Magnus gives them a look back like "Look it's been a long day can you just take me to the glitter stash?"

Animals can be highly expressive

"Ohmygod so pretty!"said Johnson as he looked at the colourful assortment of glitter and pom poms that spelled his name, in Cursive on his chest. Johnson felt FaNcY as FUCK. So fancy, in fact, he made a crown out of a napkin like at one of those fancy prancy resteraunts that Johnson couldn't even eat at, and put it on his head. Fucking majestic.

"Yo dude is this like enough glitter and shiz my beautiful arms are getting tired n stuff"

Johnson flips his massive pom pom scarf made out of only grey floofs (except that one white one that's just sitting there between like a gazillion pom poms because Johnson felt a spiritual connection with it and wanted it to prosper and follow its dreams to become a tiny cheerleader's pom pom it's a big dream don't judge), then he preformed a quadruple triple nipple back flip with a silver finish, that made all the fins in finland cry tears of joy, as the angels of the true lord himself gently lowered him onto the ground like a beautiful flower. Johnson's sultry robo eyes stared into the magpie's soul, as he uttered one final word that made the world hold it's breath;

"no"

"ok wow, just have the glitter man I can't fuckin deal with this" said magnus, as he just frickin flew off like what the fuck just happened.

Yeah, I'll be the judge of that, thought Johnson, as he strutted towards a building with alot of glass. Wow Johnson looks mag-

What the fuck is that an ogre.

It's the ogre from before, and it's covered in glitter and shit.

Ooh.

"ey yo bby what yoos numbah"

Username: GuardianTempest
Name: Bobby the Stick Figure
Gender: Male
Race/Species: Stick Figure
Color: #333333
Description: Black stick figure with a brown fedora
Items/Abilities: Cartoon physics, has a chainsaw greatsword (like this but as tall as him)
Biography: He can use his greatchainsword as some kind of twisted unicycle.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO, you butt!" Princess Poptart shrieked at Johnson as the bird criminal gtfos. "You sent away a perfectly good customer! What am I supposed to do with this glitter? There is way too much dang glitter!"

Princess Poptart sees the OGRE and gets an IDEA (but not before brooding a Lot first). "Okay, why don't you sell glitter to him? And get some cool ca$h."

A wooden crate falls from the sky at terminal velocity and impacts the ground, shattering into many pieces around 30m away from. Its only content is a single black stick figure of medium height, with a slick fedora and a serrated greatsword held in both hands.

GLITTER

"YES GLITTER." She gives her new ogre friend a tube of glitter and a dollar bill.

SPARKLE

TACKLE

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaayoudolt." She shrieks. The tackle leaves a trail of sparkles.