Who Ate Moo Montana?-part one of Who Needs Humans?, a x-overs fanfic

Who Ate Moo Montana?

Who Ate Moo Montana?

Part one of

"Who needs Humans?"

Written by Anna-mathe

Ah. Yet another quiet, peaceful night on Moo Mesa, thought the Cowlorado Kid to himself on yet another quiet, peaceful night on Moo Mesa. Darn it! This stinks!

Boring. The single word summed up the last week or so of his life. No thievin' outlaws, no twisted schemes from Mayor Bulloney – not even any sights of the elusive Masked Bull.

It was starting to get the poor kid down.

I'm more bored than a dead jackrabbit.

And at about that moment, a great explosion shook the entire Mesa as a great streak of flame shot through the sky.

"Moo," snapped Dakota as the three cowboys rode swiftly away from Cow Town to the scene a few minutes later, "it's like I told you before – that boy's off'n his rocker."

"Well, Dakota," replied Marshall Moo Montana, "it's like it says in the Code of the West: Better the boat rocks than sinks."

Dakota snorted.

"He's doin' more sinkin' than rockin'."

"Oh, come on!" Cowlorado snapped back to them. "I'm tellin' ya – I saw this big ball of fire go shootin' through the sky and hit over Snakemouth Canyon!"

"Besides – goin' along with him is the only way he'd ever leave us alone."

"Yep."

"Doh – why do you guys always pick on me?!"

" . . . "

"I'm not crazy!"

"No comment there, Kid."

"Aw . . . look!"

So the three cows on their horses skid to a halt to regard a sudden burst of flame shooting up into the sky ahead.

Dakota blinked and snorted.

"Well, that there just ain't natural."

"You're right," Moo agreed. "And it's coming from Snakemouth Canyon."

"Just like I told ya! You guys believe me now?"

"I ain't believin' nothing yet, Kid," Dakota snapped, charging ahead and seething something about fireballs and stupid people under his breath.

"Y'know, Moo," Cowlorado sighed, "I sometimes think he just don't like me."

"You know Dakota," Moo assured him. "He's always grumpy when he's dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to go charging through the desert on a horse after balls of fire that fall from the sky."

"Shoot from the sky – not fall from the sky. Get it right, Moo."

"Right, Kid. Whatever you say."

The two cowboys rode along following their large comrade and soon arrived at the notorious Snakemouth Canyon. This was a rather large canyon . . . shaped like a snake's mouth. Hence the name. The citizens of Moo Mesa are not exactly filled with creativity.

Nor, at the moment, were they filled with Dakota.

"Where'd he go, Moo?" Cowlorado asked, bewildered, as they searched the canyon for any sign of either the cow or the comet. "It's like he plumb disappeared!"

"Don't give up on him yet, kid," Moo advised, searching intently. "I sense a sudden break from melodrama coming up very soon."

"Melodrama?" Cowlorado turned to regard his companion with more bewilderment, but found him gone! "Uh . . . Moo?"

Cowlorado looked around the canyon.

"Is . . .uh . . . anyone there? Hel-lo?!"

Silence replied. Silence . . . and then . . .

"BURP"

Cowlorado jumped.

"What the – "

"BURP"

The young bull looked up at the creatures which suddenly loomed above him.

"Gah!!" he yelled. "YOU ATE MOO MONTANA!!!!"

Meanwhile, on a planet far away, Earthworm Jim was eating Spam with Peter Puppy.

"Yummy! I love Spam!" Jim exclaimed. "It's so . . . Spammy!"

But while Jim may be cool, this does not in any way pertain to this story.

And now, some food for thought. Long ago, a great comet crashes into the Earth and a great Mesa rises above the clouds with mutant cows . . . and you think no one notices? WRONG! At this very moment, the odd phenomenon was being investigated well in depth by everyone's two favorite FBI agents: Fox Moulder and Dana Scully.

"It's a Mesa, Scully," Moulder decreed, looking up at the looming structure. "Mesa's are always signs of paranormal activity."

"Moulder, there are mesas all over the west," Scully snapped. "You're being stupid."

"No, Scully. For once, open up and think with an open mind. Long ago, a comet crashed into the Earth, and this Mesa rose up above the clouds. No one has managed to climb it yet. Who knows what could be up there? I think they're up there, Scully. The same ones who abducted my sister. The same ones who make the crop circles. The same ones who gave Cartman an anal probe. The same ones who – "

"Moulder – shut up. When the comet crashed, it prompted an earthquake, and this mesa was formed. It's not a big paranormal thing, it's not a government cover up, it's not – "

"That's what they want you to believe, Scully!"

"Will you shut up?!"

"And what about that thing we saw last night, Scully? That streak of light shooting across the sky that landed somewhere on this Mesa?"

"Probably a meteor."

"No. It was one of their ships. Or maybe it was an experimental government aircraft. Or maybe – "

"Shut up! I'm just about ready to go back into town and find those nice mountain climbers who said they were on their way out here. At least they made sense."

Moulder paled.

"No, Scully! They're them, don't you see?! If you climb that Mesa with them, you'll never be seen again!"

"They're perfectly normal human beings, Moulder, which is more than I can say for you!"

"There's nothing human about them, Scully! They're – they're – they're robots in disguise!"

Scully threw him an enraged glare.

"First aliens, then government cover ups, and now robots. Moulder . . . go away. Just go away. I – "

Moulder grabbed her arm and threw her behind a tumbleweed.

"What the – "

"SH!" he warned, covering her mouth. "They're coming!"

Four bald men wearing trench coats looked at the looming Mesa with a sense of exasperation.

"Aw, man!" one of them whined. "We have to climb that?"

"It's the only way, Cheetor," the tallest sighed. "We've got to find the one who brought us here and get back to save the Earth. I hope Megatron hasn't realized we're gone yet . . . "

"Hmmm . . . " hummed the largest. "Optimus – this Mesa is not natural."

"Really? What are you saying, Rhinox?"

"I'm not certain . . . not just yet. Perhaps I'll know more when we reach the top."

"Yeah . . .while you's guys are chattin' about climbin', I'm thinkin' about ol' Mega Butt trashin' our base," sneered the smallest.

"Your point?" the one called Optimus inquired.

"We're all gonna die."

"Shut up, Rattrap."

"Shut up, Moulder."

The four looked around in surprise and noted a woman jumping up from behind a tumbleweed, shaking away the restraining hands of a freaky-looking man in a suit.

"It's those two FBI agents we met back in town," Optimus hissed. "What are they doing here?!"

"Let's ask," Rhinox suggested as the two agents came towards them.

"Hello," greeted the woman with exasperation. "I'm Dana Scully – we met back in town, remember?"

"We remember," Optimus replied. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Scully."

"For mountain climbers, you have surprisingly little climbing gear," Moulder snapped, earning a jab in the ribs from Scully.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Scully informed them, "but we need to reach the top of this Mesa. However you planned on climbing it, we're going with you."

Optimus tried not to wince as his three companions threw him incredulous glances.

No, mouthed Cheetor.

Don't even think about it, added Rattrap.

Public relations, he mouthed back, then turning back to the agents.

"As it so happens . . . I have this handy jet pack . . . "

All action in Cow Town abruptly halted as Cowlamity Kate charged into town, taking her wagon straight to The Tumbleweed Saloon at full speed.

Miss Lilly came out to the front steps and caught her breath, horrified.

"Why – what - ?!"

"Don't ask me none of yer questions, Lilly – gimme a hand here!" Kate cried, leaping from the driver's seat and rushing to the back of the cart. "Help me get this poor kid inside before it's too late!"

"He's not even respondin' to a Sarsaparilly – now I'm real worried, Lilly," Kate declared.

"Where'd you find him, Kate?"

"Just outside of Snakemouth Canyon, plumb unconscious. No sign of Moo or the Dakota Dude anywhere."

"What do you suppose coulda happened out there?"

"I ain't got no idea, Lilly, but if Cowlorado here would start talkin' sense, we'd get some sorta clue."

"Mah horse!" Cowlorado shouted in delirious agony. "Jezebel! They ate mah horse!! Mah HORSE!!!"

"Calm down there, kid!" Kate warned, giving him a solid shake. "You wakin' up, or what?!"

" . . . . ate . . . . mah poor horse . . . . . . "

Lilly sighed.

"He's out colder 'n a dead rat."

Kate frowned.

"What do you suppose he meant by that? Ate his horse? Who'd eat a horse?"

"And what would someone who eats horses do to a marshal and a deputy?"

Kate frowned once more, then turned and shot from the Saloon.

"Kate – where're ya goin'?!"

"To Snakemouth Canyon! Keep an eye on the Kid!"

Meanwhile, across town, Mayor Bulloney was discussing matters with Sheriff Terribull.

"It seems," he seethed in his seething voice, "that our marshal troubles are over, my dear Sheriff."

Terribull snorted.

"Somehow, I doubt it," he snapped. "Anyway – no one knows for sure what went an' happened out there."

"Cowlamity Kate has gone to investigate," Bulloney informed him. "I suggest . . . that the Masked Bull does some investigating of his own."

Terribull snorted again.

"I," Bulloney continued, "shall see how fares our young Deputy-in-Training."

"I smell turkey . . . . tuna fish . . . . . . big beef jerky . . . . . "

Bulloney turned up his nose and turned to Lilly.

"I see the boy is still not making sense."

Lilly shrugged.

"He's plumb out of it, Mayor. Said someone ate his horse."

"Ate his horse, you say? And perhaps our beloved Moo Montana as well?"

Lilly steamed.

"No don't you go talkin' that crap to me, Mayor," she spat. "I ain't buyin' it, and you shouldn't either. Don't go cookin' up none of yer crazy schemes, 'cause he's gonna be back."

"It smells like . . . . . pork and beans . . . . . . "

"Doh – shut up, Cowlorado!"

Meanwhile, our troop of Mesa-climbers had finally reached the top with the help of Optimus's Primejets, and they were now looking around with bewilderment.

"It's a desert, Scully," Moulder declared. "That can only mean one thing."

"That we're in a hot climate with little or no rainfall annually?"

"No. Aliens."

Their four companions snapped their heads around to glare at him. Moulder glared back.

"Just what is it you want up here?" he demanded.

Optimus blinked.

"Why . . . we're explorers."

Moulder seethed, but pressed his point no further.

"Anyway, we could ask you the same question."

Scully stepped in.

"We were called in by some yokels to investigate a local – "

"Supernatural phenomenon involving comets and giant Mesas that appear overnight in the middle of nowhere," Moulder snapped. "Since arriving, we've found two other strange things."

"Oh?"
"Yeah – that streak of light that shot across the sky last night and landed somewhere up here."

"And the other?"

Moulder glared pointedly at Optimus, but before he could make a biting reply, Scully kicked him in the shin.

"OW!" he yelled. "You kicked me in the shin!"

"Optimus," Rhinox cut in as the two agents began yelling profane things at one another, "the more I look around, the more I'm convinced that this Mesa is not natural."

"You heard what the yokels said about a comet crashing and raising it above the clouds."

"Yes – but I think it's more than simple seismic reactions. There's a greater power at work."

"Hm. What sort of power?"

"I couldn't say. Not yet. I want to see what sort of life inhabits this place."

"Well, I'm sure we'll find out . . . while we look for them . . . . Cheetor, what are you doing?!"

Cheetor was twisting his head around in circles, carefully hidden from view of the two humans.

"Darn it, Big Bot, these disguises are slagging uncomfortable!"

"Just be careful. Not only of being noticed before we wish it, but we promised those Mutant Turtles we'd bring their disguises back in one piece."

" 'ey! Does dat mean we's gotta make another pit stop in dat New York trash heap?"

"Shut up, Rattrap."

And so, the happy troop forged ahead atop Moo Mesa, seeking any signs of life. As of yet, all they'd seen were several tumbleweeds and a few cacti. Moulder was walking with a nasty limp.

"So," Cheetor said in an attempt to be conversational, "what's up with you and all this alien stuff?"

Scully sighed and shook her head as Moulder drew himself up tall to reply.

"Our nation is shrouded in darkness and corruption – aliens are among us, but the government is covering up any knowledge, stealing their technology for their own inscrutable purposes. Meanwhile, the aliens are stealing people away from Earth and doing horrible things to them – returning some, doing who-knows-what with others. I am on a quest. I will find the truth."

"The . . . truth?"

"Yes. The truth."

Cheetor decided he didn't want to be conversational any more.

Moulder wasn't through with him, though.

"Do you believe in extraterrestrial life?"

"Well . . . yeah."

"Then why don't you believe that the government is covering up proven facts of interdimensional travel and alien life on Earth?"

" . . . because I've never met your government. I don't give a hoot about what they're covering up."

Moulder's gaze darkened.

"Aren't they your government, too?"

"Nope."

"Really?" Moulder pounced. "Then where, pray tell, are you from?!"

Cheetor jerked his head north.

"Canada."

Moulder deflated.

"Oh . . . . Canada."

I need to thank those Ninja Turtles – they were full of good advice, Cheetor reflected inwardly. "When asked – tell them you're from Canada. They'll leave you alone." Good advice, good advice.

"Optimus – look!" Rhinox exclaimed, pointing forward.

Scanning ahead, they could just make out what appeared to be a ranch in the distance.

"Habitation," Optimus pronounced. "Let's go. Maybe they can tell us something useful."

They approached the dwelling just as the sun was beginning to set over the Mesa. After a hard day of desert travel, they looked rather dingy, and Scully just hoped their bedraggled appearance wouldn't alarm these yokels.

They entered through the gate, and approached the ranch house.

Oh, how cute. Playing in the yard was a little - - - a little - - -

"GAH!!" Moulder and Scully screamed, jumping back.

A little cowgirl sat playing on a small patch of grass with a doll.

A little cowgirl.

As in – she was an actual cow.

She looked up at these six odd creatures and did the only thing logical.

She screamed.

"MOOOOOOOOMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

"Uh oh," Cheetor mumbled as out through the door tumbled a large bull with a rifle and a cow came out and snatched the child.

"They're animals," Optimus called back for the slower member of the audience. "Maximals – Beast Mode!"

They shed their human disguises and transformed into their beast modes, much to the astonishment of the FBI agents.

"I knew it!" Moulder snapped after regaining his composure. "I knew you weren't humans! And what's more, I'm not so certain you're from Canada, either!"

"We mean you no harm," Optimus said to the cowfolk, ignoring the humans. "I realize we appear strange to you, but we're simply travelers. We're also . . . a bit lost."

"Well I declare," the woman exclaimed. "A man who asks for directions. Now I've seen everythin'."

"Shut up," the bull snapped irately. "All right – ye four sure are strange lookin' – but I reckon you're not all that dangerous – but what about those two things?"

"They're humans," Optimus explained. "They're harmless."

Scully and Moulder both threw him a dirty look.

"Whadda they want?"

"We're not sure. They're tagging along for their own reasons."

"I'm Agent Moulder, FBI," Moulder snapped, holding up his badge. "We'd appreciate any information you could give us regarding the formation of this Mesa, as well as the strange phenomenon sighted in the sky above here last night."

The bull turned to Optimus.

"That boy's off'n his rocker."

"Yeah. Actually – we're also looking for the object that shot from the sky last night. I don't suppose you might know where it may have landed?"

The bull scratched his head.

"Well, I dunno . . . looked like it crashed up yonder north – toward Cow Town."

"Cow Town?" Moulder and Scully repeated.

The bull nodded.

"Yup. Cow Town. I'd recommend ye try there – maybe Marshall Moo Montana could give ye a hand."

"How far is it?"

"Mmmmmm . . . 'bout a day's ride from 'ere. Y'ain't got no horses, I see."

"Hey, we don't need horses!" Cheetor brightly replied. "I'm the fastest quadruped on this planet!"

" . . . this boy's off'n his rocker, too."

Cheetor blinked.

"Anyways . . . you lot may as well stay the night in 'ere – we's been getting' some strange visitors nights."

Moulder's eyes lit up.

"Strange visitors? Could you describe these strange visitors?"

"Funny little critters – yellow, brown stripes – run around shriekin' 'PIKA, PIKA.' Can't make head nor tail outta 'em."

"I see," said Optimus.

Meanwhile, "up yonder north", Miss Lilly was growing more concerned than ever. More and more blasts of bright flame were filling the air, and still there was no sign of Moo . . . or Cowlamity Kate.

And to top matters off, Cowlorado was still singing deliriously.

" . . . I gotta doodle on mah noodle . . . an' 'is name is . . . MINKY BOODLE!!!!"

Lilly rubbed her temples and sighed.

"I wish someone would just bonk me over the head and put me outta my own misery," she mumbled.

"You must not wish for such derisive action, Miss Lilly," replied an unexpected voice, and Lilly jumped up, grabbing her spatula for protection should the intruder prove hostile.

He wasn't, though. It was JR.

"Forgive my intrusion," he apologized. "I must speak with Marshall Moo."

Lilly slammed her spatula down on the bar.

"Darn it, JR, I only with you could! But 'e's disappeared, an' so has everyone who's gone lookin' for him!"

" . . . poodle . . . . in mah strudel . . . . "

"And Cowlorado here's bein' all weird."

"What happened?"

"Oh, the Kid here saw some ball of flame shootin' across the sky, and the boys went to check it out. Come next mornin', Cowlamity Kate finds Cowlorado here unconscious in the desert, no sign of hide nor hair of Moo and Dakota. She went after 'em, and hasn't come back."

"Hm." JR put on his rather overused "thoughtful" expression. "It is a matter concerning this ball of fire that I came to discuss with Moo."

"What matter?"

"Strange creatures have been running around near our land since the object crashed."

"What sort of creatures, JR?"

"Fuzzy pink giraffes with no heads."

Lightning flashed.

Lilly screamed.

Cowlorado mumbled something about a baloney sandwich.

JR waited for Lilly to regain her composure.

" . . . Cowlorado said . . . that something, or rather, someone, ate his horse. Could . . . ?"

JR shook his head.

"Unlikely. How could a headless creature eat anything, much less a horse?"

Lilly blinked.

"Good point. So . . . you got any idea what's goin' on around here?"

JR shrugged.

"None, Miss Lilly. None at all."

The next morning saw the four maximals and two FBI agents heading north. Optimus flew, Rattrap slithered, and Rhinox plodded along carting the humans on his back. Cheetor had elected himself "scout" and headed on ahead under staunch orders to "Call for backup and do not engage" if he encountered enemy activity.

Naturally.

And so the troop plodded on for most of the day – far behind their scout, who reached the outskirts of Cow Town just after Noon.

"Hmm . . ." Cheetor hummed quietly, peering down at the town from atop a cliff and beneath a rather large tumbleweed. "Nice place. Quiet. Peaceful. Even sweet." He shuddered. "I hope we don't have to stay long – my brain might rot."

"GOT ONE!!" came a jovial shout from behind him.

Cheetor whirled, pouncing position, to find himself face to face with - - -

Boot-Hill Buzzard!!

"You'll not be turnin' me into no fuzzy pink gee-raf, varmint!" he seethed, making ready to throw a rock at the cheetah. Instead, he tripped over the rock and plummeted straight into Cheetor, who was ready for battle but not this, sending him flying down off the cliff and smashing into the ground a couple hundred feet below.

Boot-Hill jumped for joy.

"I got one! I got one!"

Saddle-Sore Scorpion came up beside him and peered down at the form below.

"Y'know, Boot-Hill . . . I don't think that's the one whose been makin' folks disappear and turnin' 'em into fuzzy pink gee-rafs all over."

"Why not?"

" 'cause you know as well as I do that we never manage to take out the bad guy."

"That's cause we usually is the bad guy."

"Hm. True. So . . . what do we do with him?"

"Well . . . I'm sure Mayor Bulloney'll wanna see 'im."

"A cat?! You're wasting my time with an unconscious cat?!" Bulloney roared.

Boot-Hill cowered.

"B-b-but Mayor Bulloney – 'e was a-talkin', I heard 'im! Cat's don't talk none!"

Bulloney sighed.

"All right, all right . . . where is this talking cat?"

"At the foot of that yonder cliff," Saddle-Sore explained, pointing out the window in the appropriate direction.

"All right . . . we'll go see what it wants."

Unfortunately for our staff villains, JR had noticed the odd activity at the cliff and was just arriving at Cheetor's body as the three approached.

"GAH!" Saddle-Sore yelped, dodging behind Bulloney.

"Calm down, you idiot!" Bulloney snapped. He then turned to JR. "Ah . . . what brings you here, if I might ask?"

JR gestured to Cheetor.

"This cat is wounded. What happened?"

"Euh . . . he just plumb fell offa that thar cliff," Boot-Hill explained.

"Hm." JR knelt in the sand beside the cat. "It's a miracle for him to be alive after such a fall. I have a feeling this is no normal cat."

"You talk to turtles, don't you?" Bulloney inquired on a sudden whim. "Perhaps you could communicate with the poor creature?"

JR didn't seem pleased with this veiled command, but he managed to arouse some form of awareness in the cat.

"Brother Cat," he intoned. "How fare you?"

Cheetor moaned faintly, more unconscious than not.

"New York Sewers . . . FBI . . . Energon . . . Brittany Spears . . . "

"What's the darn fool ravin' 'bout?" Boot-Hill inquired, completely befuddled.

JR shook his head.

"Whatever language he speaks, I am not familiar with it."

"Oops . . . I did it again . . . I'm gonna get fried . . . I engaged the enemy . . . pizza . . . shut up, Rattrap . . . "

"Maybe you'll be more familiar with this language!!" yelled a powerful voice, and the four looked around in astonishment before realizing that the voice came from above.

A creature flew down until he hovered just above the ground. Ah . . . a creature with a large gun pointed at them.

"Step away from the cat!!"

"Yeah! Git away, you smelly . . . cows!" snapped a large rat who came crawling up.

Boot-Hill and Saddle-Sore screamed and hid behind Mayor Bulloney. Bulloney hid behind JR.

JR raised his hands in a negating gesture.

"We mean no harm to the cat. He appears to have fallen from the cliff."

"Fallen my tail!!" the rat snapped. "Optimus – can we slag 'em? Please?!"

The flying one snarled briefly.

"No – not until we know what's going on around here." He threw an evil glare at the four. "What is going on around here?!"

"I thought 'e was gonna do me in!!" Boot-Hill quavered before anyone could stop him. "I didn't mean t'knock 'im offa the cliff. Sorry."

"Sorry?! Cheetor – are you all right?"

The cat lifted his head and shook it groggily.

"U-h-hh . . . wha . . . huh?"

"We've no means for repairs on this planet," Optimus informed Rattrap.

"So whadda we do?"

"Can you transform, Cheetor?"

"Uh . . . I think . . . Cheetor, Maximize!"

And he maximized to his machine form, only to fall immediately on his face.

"Ow . . . Big Bot, I'm a little queasy."

Saddle-Sore glanced over his shoulder, did a double take, and screamed, pointing.

As the others turned to watch, Rhinox arrived on the scene with . . . the humans.

Again, everyone hid behind JR. Mind you, even JR was a bit put out by the sight of these odd creatures.

"Ewww!" Bulloney yelped, burying his face in his hands. "What sort of twisted evil creatures are those?!"

"NOBODY MOVE!!" Moulder yelled, waving his gun around in the air with fury. He was getting sick of humans being the butts of all the jokes around here. "Everyone put your hands in the air!"

Nobody moved.

"I said hands up!"

JR cleared his throat.

"You said not to move."

Moulder threw his gun on the ground and jumped up and down on top of it, cursing loudly. Scully winced.

"Moulder . . . shut up. What's going on around here?"

"An excellent question," Optimus replied, pulling Cheetor shakily to his feet.

He promptly fell flat on his face again.

" . . . this is getting old . . . "

Rhinox ran a quick scan on his head and shook his head.

"He's lost nearly all of his equilibrium circuit fluid. There's nothing we can do about it without the proper replacement fluid."

"You mean I'm going to be crawling through the rest of this story?!" Cheetor cried, crawling.

"I'm afraid so."

Optimus threw a furious glare at Boot-Hill.

The buzzard screamed and bolted. Optimus fired his jets as if to follow, but JR held up a negating hand.

"Let none of us do anything hasty," he calmly suggested. "Perhaps we should all calm down and sit beside a campfire, communicating with turtles."

"Mayor, Sir, that man done scares the crap outta me," Saddle-Sore whined, still hiding behind Bulloney.

Bulloney cleared his throat loudly.

"A-hem – perhaps our Pueblo companion has the right idea – let us retire for a drink and think things through rationally."

Cowlorado was, at the time that this strange troop shuffled their way into Ms. Lilly's saloon, the Tumbleweed, quiet for once. No more rantings about poodles and baloney sandwiches. Bulloney was inwardly grateful – these new visitors seemed capable of no small amount of damage – particularly the two Hairless Wonders known as humans.

Cheetor had to be carried in bodily – no one was patient enough to wait on him to crawl the distance – and he was deposited on the piano (which finally got the thing to shut up for once and stop playing that infernal song it always plays). The others converged around a large table and got down to business.

"You first," Bulloney directed to Optimus. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Optimus stood.

"I am Optimus Primal, Maximal leader, Captain of the Axalon. We were on a peaceful mission of exploration when our spaceship was shot down over an unknown planet. Ever since, we and our assailants, the evil Predacons, have been fighting for survival against one another and the planet itself. A few nights ago, a strange vessel landed in our midst and four terrible creatures emerged – three giant mantises and a startlingly cute black kitten. We're not sure what happened then – the next thing any of us were aware of was being prisoners on their ship, which soon landed on this world in a city called New York. There we befriended some Mutant Turtles and six Gargoyles. We attempted to trail our captors to find the means by which we could return to finish the battle with our adversaries, and were led here. We feel that if we can find the object that shot through the sky two nights ago, we will find him."

He sat down, and the others applauded.

"Now you . . . whatever you are," Bulloney instructed Moulder and Scully.

Moulder stood.

"I am Special Agent Fox Moulder, FBI. My partner and I run a division called the X-Files, where we investigate paranormal activity covered up by the government in our never-ending search for the truth."

"What's the FBI?" inquired Cheetor from the piano.

Moulder gaped, aghast.

"You've never heard of the FBI?"

"Yes, I've heard of it – you two never stop repeating it over and over – but what is it?"

Scully cleared her throat.

"We are the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Which means . . . what? I mean, what do you do?"

Scully blinked and looked a Moulder, who shrugged.

"To be honest, we have no idea."

"The fact of the matter is," Rhinox summarized, standing, "that we have no idea how we came to be here, or even where 'here' is. We mean you no threat or danger, we simply wish to find this strange vessel and leave you in peace."

"I don't suppose you could tell us a bit about where we are?" Optimus added.

Bulloney stood and grinned.

"Well, my friends, allow me to welcome you to Moo Mesa, or more specifically, my city of Cow Town, which I have run smoothly and safely for many years, during which it has prospered under my wisdom and guidance."

Lilly threw a piece of cornbread at him.

"Correction, Mayor," she snapped. "This is Cow Town, a city on Moo Mesa, which was filled with corruption and violence due to a corrupt mayor and a violent sheriff. In the past several years, however, our Marshall, Moo Montana, has taken a special interest in cleaning up this town and keeping it clean. Bulloney here and Terribull have tried every trick in the book to do away with him and his deputies, but they've come up blank until now."

Bulloney seethed and Lilly sighed.

"When that thing went shootin' across the sky, our Deputy-in-Training saw it and he dragged Moo and Dakota out to investigate. The next day, a local rancher found Cowlorado unconscious in the desert and no sign of the others. She brought him back here and went to look for 'em, and no one's seen her since. Then JR here comes along sayin' that ever since the thing crashed, fuzzy pink giraffes with no heads have been runnin' rampant over yonder. We got us some trouble here, but no one's precisely sure just what's goin' on as of yet."

"Fuzzy pink giraffes with no heads?" Optimus repeated, aghast. "This is serious!"

"Did your law enforcement officers find the flying object?" Moulder inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Shooting object!!" snapped a groggy voice from the next room.

Rattrap blinked.

"Who's that??"

Lilly shrugged self-consciously.

"Oh – that's Cowlorado, our Deputy-in-Training. He hasn't been quite right ever since the whole incident."

"Could we speak with him?" Optimus asked.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Bulloney advised.

"I wouldn't recommend it none, either," Lilly agreed, disgruntled.

"Be that as it may," Optimus admonished, "I really think we should speak with him. Has he given a report of what happened?"

"All he's been doin' has been singin' songs about baloney sandwiches and minky boodles," Lilly grumbled.

" ? "

Actually, Cowlorado was feeling better than he had in a while – he was somewhat cognizant, even. At least, enough so that when the humans entered the room, he had a seizure.

"Mayor . . . would you kindly extend your usual hospitality to our two guests?" Lilly seethed, earning an astonished look from JR, who couldn't believe that she would stoop so low as to submit these seemingly-innocent freaks to the vile tortures of Mayor Bulloney.

"I would be . . . heh heh . . . honored, Ms. Lilly."

Them gone, Cowlorado blinked with confusion at the three Maximals.

" . . . who in tar-nation are you?"

"Long story, citizen," Optimus replied briskly. "We need any information you can give us regarding the thing that shot across the sky."

Cowlorado blinked between the three of them a few times, then rubbed his head and looked at Lilly.

"I must be off'n mah rocker."

Lilly smacked him.

"Ya nut!! You're actually awake! What happened, Kid?? What happened to Moo and Dakota??"

Cowlorado shuddered forlornly.

" . . . . . . it was so horrible . . . . "

"What, Cowlorado – what was it??"

" . . . they . . . ate them . . . . "

"Who, darn it?!?! Cowlorado!!! Who ate Moo Montana?!?!?!"

Cowlorado opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when every window in the Saloon shattered and a tremendous roar shot through the city.