The triceratops' large teeth close around the boar tusk, and with the loud crunch of bone, shards of it flick in every direction.
Larry Daley stands at the forefront of the ragtag group of historical figures, eyes locked onto the growling dinosaur bones in front of him. While not as big as Rexy back in New York, this freshly re-animated pile of prehistoric archaeological excitement was certainly nowhere near as friendly nor as playful as America's own Tyrannosaurus Puppy, and Larry is just about now realising that he has no idea how to handle this situation.
"Lawrence, may I suggest a different plan?" The wax fingers of the twenty-sixth president of the United States pull roughly on Larry's arm as he slowly inches back from the dinosaur before them.
"Run."
The triceratops pounces, Attila screams, and the group of museum exhibits scramble in a panic as they make a mad dash down the hall.
Inside Attila's hat, the two miniatures cling to the fur lining and to each other for dear life. Every step the Hun takes is for them magnified tenfold, and the faster Attila runs, the harder it gets for them to hold on.
Their tiny bodies are thrown in every which way, their little fingers bunched in the fur lining, desperately trying not to let go.
Attila rounds a particularly sharp corner, and Jedediah yelps as one of his hands in yanked loose from its death grip, a small tuft of fur coming with it.
"Octie, I'm slippin'!"
Before Octavius can respond, Jedediah's other hand slips free and he disappears off the side of Attila's hat with a yell. The Roman General doesn't hesitate, letting go and diving from the hat after the cowboy.
"I am coming, my friend!"
The air whips past him as he falls, his cape flapping loudly behind him, and from the corner of his eye he can see the other museum exhibits scrambling around a corner, the triceratops still in hot pursuit.
Just ahead, Jedediah tumbles through the air with him. Octavius is gaining on him, and he's close enough that he can see the sour look on the other man's face.
"Well, what did you go and do that for? Now we're both gonna die!"
He's close enough now to reach out and grab the cowboy, and as large metal bars loom up in front of them, Octavius takes ahold of his arm.
"There is no nobler fate than to perish with a friend!"
The Roman General's cape snags on the grate, bringing the two miniatures to a jarring halt. Jedediah's arm almost slips out of Octavius's grip.
Below them, a dark void seems to stretch downwards forever.
"Let go of me, ya Roman mongrel. Save yourself!"
Octavius looks down at Jedediah, eyes sincere and heart on his sleeve.
"I am not quitting you."
Jedediah looks back at him, recognising those words as the ones he himself had said years before.
There is a loud tearing sound, and Octavius's cape rips from his armour. The cowboy and the Roman tumble forward, plunging down into the darkness of the heating vent, their screams lost in the rushing air.
