Endgame

Pt. 4: The War on the Floor. The bitter conclusion.

Who can stop tongue-less Grimlock? Optimus Prime and the remaining Transformers of Team Cybertron, Jazz, Twin Twist and Mirage, sat back as Grimlock chewed his way through Team Joe's ranks. Cobra Commander surveyed his remaining troops. Snake Eyes, Snake Eyes 2, a jeep, the ammo dump, and his secret weapon. He would not reveal his hidden ace card just yet.

"Snake Eyes, attack!" commanded Cobra Commander. Snake Eyes 2 gave the international "who, me?" gesture. Cobra Commander flipped him the bird, "No, Snake Eyes 1, attack!"

Snake Eyes was a ninja and, therefore, nigh unstoppable. He pulled out all the dark ninja secret powers he learned at Wu Ping's Stuntman Masterclass. His fists were as wind, his elbows were iron, his feet were creamy vanilla pudding. Yes, Snake Eyes was a ninja, but Grimlock was a dinosaur. A robot dinosaur. And everyone knows that robot dinosaurs trump ninjas (just as ninjas trump pirates and pirates trump robot dinosaurs, in true Ro Sham Bo fashion). Grimlock bit him in half.

"Arg!" Cobra Commander arged. And "Gah!" and "Pah!" and "Drek!" Grimlock prepared to charge. "You've forced my hand," Cobra Commander spat. "Behold my secret weapon: the G.I. Zoo!" Ye gods, it was true. Dogs, cats, alligators, wombats, bush monkeys, wildebeests and a single manta ray accidentally dried out in the arid carpet shag. "G.I. Zoo! I command you to fill his iron belly!" The G.I. Zoo ran, galloped, slithered, clip-clopped and slinked into Grimlock's jaws. He chewed as fast as possible, but the zoo animals continued to pour down his gullet. With a sickening burp, Grimlock collapsed to the carpet. The subsequent vomiting would last for days.

Something you don't see everyday: a vomiting robot dinosaur.

Cobra Commander quickly seized the offensive. "Snake Eyes 2, your ninja skills are useless. Grab the fuel tanks and drive the jeep into the robotic maw of our enemy!" Snake Eyes 2 grabbed the spare fuel canisters and dashed into the jeep. He steered the vehicle towards the last four Transformers. With steely determination, he slammed down the accelerator. Team Cybertron never knew what hit them...until it hit them. The metallic carnage was unspeakable, but Optimus Prime had managed to escape the brunt of the fiery blast. Cobra Commander chuckled softly.

Mad ninja driving skillz, yo.

"You madman," said Prime. "Sending your loyal trooper on a suicide mission!" Cobra Commander laughed louder. "And to laugh about it...that's just sick."

"You fool," said Cobra Commander. "You've fallen into my trap. The ammo depot...you're standing on it." "No," said Prime, "the arrow on the sign is pointing somewhere else."

Cobra Commander aimed his pistol at the warheads. "Ha! I painted that fake arrow this morning." He fired.

One second prior to kablooey.

It was over. The battlefloor was awash in corn syrup blood, Autobot pieces and mangled Joes. Cobra Commander walked through the dead and dying. "In my pocket..." coughed Mirage, "there's a letter...to Jetfire...take it to him...please..." "No dice, lover-bot," scoffed Cobra Commander. "You have no pockets." He pulled the trigger.

Medics carry off the dead and dying and torso-less. Cool shades, medic guy. What are those, Oakleys?

He continued to survey the wreckage. "I wonder what I can get for selling this scrap metal. That Baroness is such a high-maintenance broad." His attention was distracted by a few Joe spectators attempting to raise the Joe flag in triumph.

Not...quite...Iwo Jima. Especially with the Adidas Sambas in the background.

Cobra Commander would have none of it. He gave chase, pistol blazing. Thus, the battlefloor lay empty. With no one left to claim the title, who won? Clearly, the real winners here were you, the reader. Congratulations.

Goodbye childhood.

Of course, it didn't end here. All was peaceful and quiet until War on the Floor 2.
Head on back to the main War on the Floor page.

Want the author's commentary? It's like DVD commentary except no Kevin Smith. Commentary awaits.