ATUHOR'S NOSE: I totally could've left this as an abandoned first chapter and it would've been a perfect adaptation.

Except of course that in the original, Bob at least reached the volcano.

So I had to continue. Can't let my 12 year old self best me.

There were alerts everywhere, very few of which Bob understood.

The radar beeps, those he got. This one pointed to a tank, this one to a missile WHAT THE FUCK IT WAS COMING RIGHT FOR HIM AAAAAA NOOOOO

Somehow through sheer chance Bob's flailing managed to fire a single round, and that round managed to perfectly intercept the missile.

He took a few more seconds to notice it and calm down. "... oh okay. Why are missiles going after me, anyway? They didn't ever go after tanks before or even me, they just kinda sat there and exploded after a few seconds."

As if specifically in response, the tank's radio crackled to life. "Attention driver of a stolen tank: you are driving a stolen tank. It is against the law to steal tanks, and also to subsequently drive the stolen tank which you have stolen."

"Well excuuuse you," Bob snarked back. "I can't go anywhere on foot because all the tanks keep shooting me! So I'm doing what I can!"

"You're supposed to stay inside your home."

"Home‽"

"The geometric shapes scattered throughout the area!"

"That ain't a home, you weirdo! Pyramids and cubes and slabs are just boxes people can respawn and hide in! They're too tiny to live in and even if they weren't they don't have anything in them like kitchens and bathrooms and stuff anyway!"

"Oh. ... Well, you're still supposed to stay inside them!"

"That's dumb and you're dumb for saying it!" Bob shouted, and smashed the radio in half so he wouldn't have to listen to that anymore.

Then he floored it, metaphorically since tanks don't use pedals, and nyoomed as fast as he could toward the volcano in the distance.

I have to be very careful, Bob thought. If this tank gets wrecked, it could be another 20 years before I've dabbed aggressively enough to find a new one!

Recklessly, Bob drove over rivers and hills and cubes and the tank tumbled end-over-end as he flipped over all the obstacles in his way. Since none of them were firing bullets at him he was completely unharmed by this. He even managed to crashflip his way over some other tanks and into a circle of tanks.

"DIE DIE DIE" Bob shouted the moment he realized he was surrounded by tanks, blasting frantically in their general direction, which was every direction because he was surrounded. (Trillions of light-years away, Reaper McOverwatch got very mad at Bob for stealing his special attack. The resulting violation of causality allowed him to invent anger-based time travel and somehow completely solve whatever problem Overwatch is about. However, he couldn't sue Bob because a court determined that it's totally different if you do it in a tank.)

Because Bob was mashing the fire button very quickly, not much happened because the shooting mechanics of this game - er, vehicle, demanded only a single shot could exist at a time, but Bob managed to whittle down the enemy tanks and dodge their bullets expertly until they were all gone.

"Holy crap that is so tiring," Bob said. "How much progress have I made, anyway?" He looked out the tank's periscope at the volcano.

It looked exactly the same size. Everything looked exactly the same size.

"Everything looks exactly the same at all times around here, huh. That's gonna make navigation difficult."

To Be Continued...

"Oh, have we gone into the non-canon ending gag bit now?" As always, the mere fact that Bob was capable of asking this question immediately confirmed the answer, but asking helps to signal the transition.

"Okay. All right, cool." He frowned loudly. "I know you're just doing this whole thing for funsies, but like..."

Yes?

"..." Bob shrugged. "I don't know." ... "Wait, so where do people live if not in the random shapes?"

This was not the question he was originally going to ask, but I can answer it anyway. Sadly, my answer is that I haven't worked that out yet. Maybe they all used to have homes before the random tanks and missiles invaded.

"... this is a real grim backstory you're creating for a crackfic."

Non-canon ending bit! No rules!