Teen Titans Auto Crash Derby Chapter 2- The Rides
Hello, guess who's back? That's right! In this chapter the Titans get their cars!
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Piper scoured the junkyards searching for any salvageable parts, hoping to create her own wrecking machine. Or rather, to hold a squirt gun to Cyborg's head and threaten to rust him up if he didn't build it.
"What I'd really like is a tank..." she mumbled, inspecting half of a muffler before tossing it aside.
"I got one," the redneck owner of the junkyard called from the heap of garbage.
"Does it work?" she asked, not expecting a yes-
"Yup. Works like a charm."
"It's wonderful!" Piper cried, drooling over the seemingly brand-new army tank.
"That one's from double-u, double-u eye, eye," he informed her. "Runs real nice, too."
"Can I take it for a test drive?" she asked maliciously. He tossed her the keys. "I wasn't expecting fuzzy die in the rear-view mirror. ... Wait, why is there a rear-view mirror in a tank?" she asked from the driver's seat.
Soon enough she was driving on the streets. "Stupid red lights... Oh, hey! It's Cyborg! I wonder if running over the competition before the derby is against the rules..."
"Man... I knew I should've just used the T-Car... Could've kept a whole dang credit card to update it, but nooo... I had to let these crazy white people talk me into this... Now I can't even find anything worth buying!" he complained until an ice cream truck rolled by playing "Pop Goes the Weasel". "Ooh! Ice cream! Hey, wait! Come back here!" he screamed, chasing after the truck. "I want a Tootie-Fruity... Wait... That's it!"
Before long, Cyborg was cruising behind the wheel of his brand new ice cream truck happily licking at his ice cream.
Myron, however, was in Washington D.C. by then.
"Hey, kid! What're you doing in here? This is the White House!" a security guard shouted, jumping in Myron's path.
"I'm Myron Welch, and I'm here to see the president!" he announce, pointing his thumb at himself forcefully.
"Oh, Mr. Myron! I'm so sorry! I... I didn't recognize you! Did you get a haircut? You look nice, sir. Go
right on in," the security guard mumbled as he returned to his post.
"...Awesome."
He found the president in the Oval Office, contemplating the question: If they're called the "cabinet", why aren't there any shelves in here?
"Hey, Mr. President," he breezed casually as he poked around the room, entertaining himself with an Al Gore bobble-head.
"Oh, Mr. Myron, my good friend! What brings you here? Hey, why don't you have a seat in spinny chair? Here, let me pour you a glass of scotch!" he fumbled in his western accent, spilling most of the drink.
"Actually, Georgie, I'm here to talk business. See I'm in a contest. It's a crash derby. I need a ride..."
In the blink of an eye Myron had his very own armored car with a built-in liquor cooler. It had nuclear weapons, atomic bombs, and a rum cake-maker.
Don't ask how, but Michael got hooked up with a black Hummer with a flame-thrower welded on the top.
He drove down the street in the middle of two lanes, leaning out the window.
"As Cyborg would say... Boo freaking yah!" he cried before his head hit a stop sign.
Robin had decided there was no one better to create him the perfect ride than the mechanic who built the Batmobile for Batman.
He made his way to the small apartment and rang the bell. After a short wait, a young brunette girl answered the door.
"Robin! Hey, come on in! Wow... Haven't seen you in ages! What brings you here?" she asked, adjusting her baggy, oil-stained over-alls.
"Lizabeth, I don't have much time to explain, but I need you to make me a ride. It needs to have weapons, and hydraulics, and a little bicycle horn..." Robin rambled, counting off on his fingers.
"Speak no more, my friend! I have exactly what you're looking for! Follow me!" she offered, grabbing him and taking him to the back of the apartment. "And now... Presenting the experiment I've been working on for, like, practically all the fifteen years of life! Or... At least until you joined the Teen Titans and didn't need the Batcar thing anymore... So, like I was saying, without further ado, I present Robin's Tricked-Out Motorcycle!" she cried, lifting a white sheet and revealing the shiny new motorized vehicle.
"Wow... Hey, you even got that horn I was talking about..." Robin said, marveling at the thing.
"Yeah, and there's a cute little license plate with your name on it," she pointed out.
"But... Do I have to call it 'Robin's Tricked-Out Motorcycle'?" he asked warily.
"Who created this masterpiece? Me, that's who. So I get to name it, and I'm calling it 'Robin's Tricked-Out Motorcycle'!" she screamed.
Mali was having a much easier time in London, England. She searched the streets with a crumpled wad of paper in gloved hand. She halted her hunt in front of a tall white business building.
She pushed through the tall, glass double-doors and went straight to the receptionist at the front desk.
"'Ello! How may I help you miss?" she asked cheerily.
"Umm... I'm Animalia of the Teen Titans and I have an appointment to see..." she trailed off and skimmed the paper in her hand. She looked back at the woman and finished her sentence with, "a Mr. Mama..."
"Go on in."
Mali poked her head in the door, her long black hair falling around her shoulders. She spotted a large desk with a nice leather chair facing the window.
"Hello? Mr. Mama?" she asked skeptically. The chair spun around to reveal a handsome young man.
"Please. Call me Joe," he said in a British accent. "You must be Miss Animalia."
"Yeah. It's nice to meet you, Mr..... Joe," she beamed, shaking his hand.
"All the preparations are complete. All our top mechanics have been working on this since we got your call, love. And now it's finally ready," Joe explained excitedly as he drew the curtains of the window open. "Here's your new car!"
A giant smile spread wide across Mali's green face. She was the proud new owner of a British-style Transformer.
Meanwhile, Beast Boy was...
"Give! Give it back!" he cried, tugging as hard as he could. But his resistance was futile. That was one stubborn squirrel. "Dude! This is not funny! Chanelle only gave me one credit card, and I don't have another!"
Obviously, a squirrel had run off with Beast Boy's platinum, and he was having a hard time trying to get it back.
"Come on! What're you planning to buy?" he pleaded. But, he fell over, and the squirrel scampered away. "Great... Now what am I going to do?" he asked himself as he sat down on the sidewalk, chin in gloved hands.
"Mister? Can you move?" a little boy on a bike asked. He nudged Beast Boy with the front wheel of his tire.
"Hey, kid! Let me borrow your bike!" he cried, gripping the handlebars and pulling it closer to his green self.
"No way! My bike!" the boy screamed, honking his horn.
"Come on! Please? How much do you want for it?"
The boy smiled, put his hands on his hips, and asked, "How much you got?" Beast Boy blinked twice and drove his hands into his pockets.
"Uh... I have twenty bucks, some old gum, and a paper clip!"
"No way! Fifty!"
"Fifty? Come on, kid! Can you even count money? Here, here's forty dollars, okay? That's all I have."
"What are you doing to my little brother?" a slightly older girl on a bike, about ten years of age asked.
"Hey, is that for sale?" Beast Boy asked.
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So how was that? I really liked the junkyard guy. "Double-u, double-u, eye, eye!" He was saying World War II! I love that! And then the British guy's name was "Joe Mama"! So, next time the Titans smash their cars up! See who wins! This is Chocolate Usagi, signing out!
