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Chapter 9: The Gon-Gon Massacre
this page added by Jennifer Par
robertmaryparsons@gci.net
"I GET FIRST DIBS!" Polka, the head chef, yelled as they charged back towards the deserted cafeteria. It was often said by his subordinates that there was nothing more ferocious than Megatron on the warpath. They were wrong. The surging mob of Predacons on a chocolate gon-gon induced rush was a far more daunting spectacle than any Megatron who'd just had his chocolate energon goodies stolen. The crowd once more entered through the mangled doors and rushed to the box of gon-gons.
It was a gruesome spectacle indeed. Transformer parts were littered like, well, litter, on the floor. But that wasn't all that was littered around.
"GON-GONS!!!!" Without a thought to the fate of their comrades, the Predacons dug in. Thus one of the advantages of being a Predacon is revealed: It's every bot for himself where energon-gons are concerned. Especially to half starved kitchen workers who have been subsisting on rations for the last five decacycles. Shoving and pushing, the Predacons cleared the floor of their fellows, and in a half brawl, half frenzy, shoved the gons-gons into mouths, mandibles, and general eating appendages. For some time they crawled on the floor searching for leftovers. If the Maximals had been watching, they would have been shocked at the Predacon's abandoning their dignity and rooting like cyber-dogs. Well, what did they know?
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?" The Predacons all gasped as they heard the shocked bellow.
"MEGATRON! Uh, We Were Just Searching For, Um, A Spoon!"
"MY ENERGON-GONS!" Don't you hate it when a grown Predacon cries? "DEATH TO YOU ALL!" Megatron sobbed. Indeed, tears streaked down his face as he slagged each and every transformer into piles of molten metal. He continued his lamentations as they cooled, after which he would eventually throw them into the incinerator.
What do you do now?
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