Rumble Under Thunder Mountain!
Joe Deathstick looked up from the cold white floor. He had inched himself totally into the corridoor and watched as the double metal doors at the end of the hall slid open. Some sort of robot rolled out. It rolled on rubber treads and had eight mechanical arms. Each arm ended in some sort of cleaning device: spray bottles, rags and squeegees. The front plate of the robot had the word "Herbie" stenciled on it in black.
As Joe watched, Herbie rolled up to the first door in the corridor and inserted a green card in a slot by the door. The door slid open, Herbie rolled in, and the door quickly shut.
Joe squirmed forward with renewed determination. He couldn't keep up with the tracked robot, not all trussed up in the net, but when the robot emerged from that room, he would be waiting!
Outside, the blond man was pummeling Smokin Beaver mercilessly. She swung again and again with her axe, only to have most of the blows deflected with inhuman force. Smokin Beaver was knocked to the ground, and tried in vain to pull her axe out from under her enormous beaver tail.
The blond "man" levelled his blaster rifle at her enourmous front teeth. Corn Starch stared hard at the blaster rifle and concentrated. Frost rimed the barrel. A bead of sweat rolled down Corn Starchs' brow. A ball of ice about the size of a soccer ball suddenly encased the blaster barrel.
The blond man growled and whirled on the scaly mutant.
CS: Smokin, get inside and help Joe!
SB: Done! We'll meet you inside!
As Smokin Beaver sprinted into Thunder Mountain, the blond man brought the ice-encrusted blaster rifle down on Corn Starch's head, knocking him to the ground.
Inside the mountain, Herbie exited the first room in the hall and slotted his card to enter the second. As the second door slid open, Joe Deathstick propelled himself forward, through the doorway. He and Herbie were in some sort of armory. Most of the weapons were crude Omega weapons; swords, spears and the like. Six weapons stood out: three blaster rifles and three vibro-blades!
Struggling to his feet, Joe slowly but surely freed himself of the constricting net. Joe realized that if this room held this many artifacts, he would have to check the other rooms as well. But he would need a way to get into those rooms. Herbie rolled by to polish some swords stacked against the wall. Joe followed...