"Best I can do is $15," Rick Harrison said. Suddenly the entire front of Gold & Silver Pawn was smashed open. Debris blew in all directions, evenly coating every ware in the shop. Over 30 years of uninterrupted 24-hour pawn service came to a crashing halt.
"HEY RICK HARRISON! IT'S ME, LES!" It was Les. He had smashed through the front of the store using a mech he bought with money he stole from thousands of Detroit customers. Les' face peeked through a small window on the head of the droid. He began charging his ion cannon.
"FUCK!" Rick Harrison shouted, as he dove into the back of the store.
"What?" Chumlee said. The entire room was glowing blue as a spheroid of energy accumulated at the tip of Les' WMD. Finally the cannon had finished charging and the three dimensional entity of pure plasma was hurled at 186,000 miles per second straight at Chumlee in a deafening blast. What happened next was incredible. Chumlee's skin completely melted off in the first picosecond, his fat tissue liquefied into a boiling, bubbling sea of lard in the second picosecond, his muscles separated into bits of charred spaghetti that wrapped around everything within a 10 foot radius in the third picosecond, and finally his bones were instantaneously zapped into atom-sized ash that pressurized the entire building in the fourth picosecond. There was absolutely nothing left of Chumlee. Even his soul was completely obliterated by this devastating event. Chumlee… was dead.
Rick choked on Chumlee's ashes. "GOD DAMN IT, CHUMLEE!" He shouted. "HOSS, OLD MAN, WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!" Les turned his attention to customers who were in the store and elected to pick them off one by one using his shoulder-mounted chaingun. Thousands of copies of battletoads that Chumlee had purchased fell from the shelves. They were useless now. No wait… they were always useless.
"GRAB A WEAPON!" Rick said, as he grabbed a civil war rifle, some gunpowder and some minie balls. Big Hoss was panicking. Rick slapped him. "GET IT TOGETHER, SON." Finally Hoss got it together and grabbed a musket.
"Dad…" Hoss said quietly, his voice shaking, "Why don't we have any guns made after 1898?"
"YOU NEED A PERMIT FOR THAT SHIT!" Rick replied as he slammed the butt of his rifle into his son's gut. "NOW MOVE!" the two were running towards the back of the store. Les caught sight of them through the entrance to the hallway. He chuckled loudly as he fired a homing missle down the hallway. Luckily it caught heat signatures of coffee that was too hot and blew up only the first half of the hallway.
"DAMN IT!" Les said as he began running forward.
Old Man was in the back. "Keep it down out there! I can't concentrate with all that racket!" Rick and Hoss ran into the room.
"Dad. We have to leave. NOW." Rick said.
"What the fuck, son? What is the matter with you?" Suddenly the wall was smashed open by Les' powerfists of fury.
"God damn I love seeing competitive pawn shops eat the dust of their employees!" Les laughed.
"Now wait a minute," Old Man said calmly. Rick was biting his lip. Hoss was shivering, a stream of urine slowly trickling down his pant leg. Old Man slowly stood up. Les cocked an eyebrow, then grinned and began charging his ion cannon again. Nobody moved for a second. Then…
Old Man dove out of the way, colliding with Rick and his piss-soaked grandson. The wall behind him blew to bits as an 18th century cannon fired a ball straight into the core of Les' mech suit. Les' cannon quit charging.
"UGHUNUGHUNUGHUN," Les said as the suit short-circuited, briefly pumping 10,000 volts of electricity into his body. Rick and Hoss stared in awe.
"Well what the hell are you two waiting for? Let's get the fuck out of here!" Old Man said. The three ran to the garage in the back of the building. Rick slammed on the garage door panel as Hoss and Old Man jumped on Hoss' motorbike. "God damn it," Old Man mumbled as he felt his grandson's pee begin to transfer to his own clothes.
Hoss ignited the engine and slammed on the accelerator as Rick dove into the passenger cart on the side. The garage door opened about 2 feet, then stopped. The bike was speeding towards the door faster and faster.
"SON, WE'RE NOT GONNA MAKE IT! STOP!" Rick yelled over the roar of the bike. Hoss quickly zig-zagged onto a skating ramp that was in the corner of the garage. The bike went airborne. Rick and Old Man yelled. The bike tore through the front of the garage, still soaring several feet on the air. Some of the glass from the windows slashed Rick's face. Hoss briefly blacked out, but as the front wheel of the bike touched down with the ground again, he smashed his forehead against the front console of the bike and immediately came to. Hoss made a sharp left turn and sped away from the shop. In his rear view mirror, the shop was becoming smaller and smaller, but then in one brief moment, the shop and several shops along the same strip were engulfed in a mushroom cloud. Les emerged from the cloud. His laugh could be heard from his megaphone.
A bloody-tear streamed down Rick's cheek as he watched his life's work turned to ruin in the rear-view mirror.
Suddenly down from the air came the batmobile. It looked so badass in person. The vehicle pulled up behind Hoss' motorbike. A wicked, feminine laugh could be heard from the batmobile.
"AHAHAHAHAHA! There's no escape boys!" The woman in the passenger seat of the batmobile said. Hoss veered to the right. Blood continued to trickle from Rick's face. The batmobile was getting closer.
"Faster Hoss!" Old Man yelled. Hoss already had the pedal to the metal. The batmobile quickly gained on the motor bike. A claw reached out and grabbed the motorbike, encasing it in a mesh cage.
"Got em," a masculine voice in the batmobile said. The batmobile lifted off the ground again and sped off into the horizon, with the mesh ball hanging down below.
What happens to our heroes next? FIND OUT ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF HARDCORE PAWN STARS ON TRUHISTORY!