his arms about and making funny gestures in front of Optimus Prime.
"As you can see Optimus, I've secured the Deceptions' defeat through the creation
of my newest invention!"
Prime plucked at his right windshield wiper and let it slap back, creating a warbling sound.
"Prime," Wheeljack sighed, "aren't you paying attention?"
"Em?"
"Aren't you paying attention to the unveiling?"
"Oh."
"..Okay..," muttered Wheeljack and continued. "Our strongest weapons against the
Decepticons have always been teams of Transformers who can combine into larger robots!
However, they are costly to make and their heads tend to snap off inside each other. So,
I've designed a way for regular Autobots to merge into a larger being!"
"Wait, we've done that!" Prime chortled. "Remember the time five of us
masqueraded as the Stunticons?!"
Wheeljack sighed. "Hanging on to each other for dear life and walking around like a chicken on stilts will not cut it!"
"Ah."
"Yessir," Wheeljack exclaimed, "feast your optics upon our newest weapons!" A
dramatic light appeared from the lighting rig and highlighted a group of five contraptions.
One was a blue plane that, strangely, had a face peering out from under its nose. The other
four were white frames that had foot and chest clasps.
"Criminy!" gasped Optimus, "You're going to defeat the Decepticons with Nautilus equipment?!"
"No, no," fumed Wheeljack. "Listen to me, dagnabit! These are not toys!
Well...Rather, they are not just the feeble results of my tinkering! Five regular Autobots
don one of these babies each and can combine to form a larger robot. These are...POWER
SUITS!"
There was a sudden knock on the door. Optimus strolled over and opened it. A
small human, dressed in a tweed suit, handed Optimus a formal letter.
"I represent Tonka, Inc. You are hereby notified that a copyright suit has been issued against you for the illegal plagiarism of GoBot technology."
"What?" Wheeljack stammered. "I didn't rip-off anything! Who in Primus' name
are the GoBots?!"
The human lawyer was not amused. "Just because you beat them in the toy aisles
years ago does not give you permission to abscond with their ideas. I'll see you in court,
Mr. Wheeljack." The lawyer spun and left the doorway.
Optimus turned and crossed his arms. "Wheeljack?!"
Before Wheeljack could speak, Nightbeat burst into the room. "Never fear, I've got
the problem solved."
Optimus was incredulous. "Do you even know what the problem is yet?"
"No, but that means we'd have to do a scene with Wheeljack coming to see me in
my office about his dilemma or me spontaneously popping in the room and going, 'Hey,
guys, what's the story, tood-a-loo?' and we just don't have the time or extra sets for that."
Prime blinked his eyes.
Nighbeat continued. "The GoBots don't have a chance! You see, Tonka was
indirectly bought out some time ago by Hasbro, the company that owns us. Now, we can
make the case that we rightfully own all GoBot technology!
Wheeljack smiled, but none could see it because he lacked a mouth. "Well, than
that solves that. Thank you, Nightbeat. So, as I was saying, Prime, the Decepticons' defeat
is..."
"But," interjected Nightbeat. "This whole combination has led to some problems.
For example, Optimus, let's see you transform."
"Okay!" cooed Optimus. He transformed but began cramming into smaller
proportions.
"Oh, no!" yelled Wheeljack.
Prime found himself in the guise of a little, red sports car, no larger than a
matchbox, and began buzzing around the floor of Wheeljack's lab. He sped between
Wheeljack's legs and into a mouse hole above which was the sign, "Rattrap's Den."
"That's awful!" Wheeljack cried. "What's happened to him?!"
"First," Nightbeat explained, "Hasbro thought it would be cute to name one of their
characters Gobots. Oh, big har-har. Just dance about on top of Tonka's grave, why don't
ya! Then, they got a wee bit befuddled and named a whole series Go-bots! They were little
cars that, you know, go-ed! And they had the audacity to include Prime!"
"The horror!"
"But it gets worse!" Nightbeat warned.
A big, golden rock rolled by Wheeljack. "Why is there a pyrite boulder in my lab?"
"That's not a rock!" Nightbeat informed the mechanic. "It's Bumblebee! They
made him into a Rock Lord!"
More Autobots crawled into the lab, their now cheaply made limbs having snapped
off at the slightest touch.
"Oh, the humanity!" shouted Wheeljack. "I can't bear this!" The mechanic ran
screaming from his lab and into the parking lot of Autobot City. He turned off the car
alarm in Tracks, got in and zoomed away.
Nightbeat sighed. "Well, at least this story didn't end with me meeting some
unfortunate..." The wall blew open and buried Nightbeat under a ton of rubble.
A Porsche and a red scooter rolled into to the room and converted into their gimpy
robot modes.
"A-ha!" cackled the Porsche, resting a foot on the rubble. "I, Baron Von
Munchausen, claim this toyline in the name of GoBots!"
"Von Joy," whispered the red scooter. "Your name is Baron Von Joy."
The Baron eyed Scooter with suspicion. "What? That's silly! Now, who would
give me a frumpy name like that?!"
From inside his hole, Rattrap sneered. "Geesh! And people complain about the
Generation 1 toys!"