A Dip at La Brea

	The sun beat down on the expansive grass lands that was La Brea, as a 
single reptilian shape bounced and skittered over the rough terrain. It stopped 
for one instant to survey its position , then continued on until it reached the 
edge of what made La Brea so note worthy.
	"Oooh!! Sicky poo!!," it shrieked in a high, fingers-dragging-on-a-
chalkboard voice. "That looks just like the insides of B.J.'s sneakers." She 
glanced around. Finding herself alone, she opened a cellular phone.
	"Bop to Barney," she stated. "I'm in position. Send me those pretty Loved 
Ones. There's a lot of icky goop to be moved."

	"ARSE!"
	Arsenal's head hit the cieling of his quarters in Base One. He grunted as 
the bed was lowered to the floor.
	"Do you have to continue this annoyng habit of raising the section of 
floor under my bed," Arsenal complained as he stood up.
	"It's not my fault," came Fran's nonchalant reply. "You programmed me with 
this personality."
	"I thought I left out that part about the practical jokes," he muttered to 
himself. "I'll have to edit her code." He left the room, and headed down the 
hall into the elevator.
	"What's the story, Fran?"
	"I've intercepted a cellular call from Baby Bop to Barney. She's at the La 
Brea Tar Pits, and she's got several Loved Ones with her."
	"The *real* Bop?" he asked. "Or another clone?"
	"From what the satellite scans of the area are telling me, it's the real 
McCoy."
	"So what's she there for?"
	"It appears she's looking for something inside one of the tar pits."
	Arsenal thought for a minute. "Ready the battle-van. Place my Excalibur at 
the ready inside it. I'll be down in the motor pool if you need me."

	Several hours later, Arsenal drove the battle-van through a teleportal 
onto a deserted highway near the tar pits. He flicked on the holographic display 
beside him. A hologram of Fran's head appeared.
	"Any more news on Bop?" he asked her.
	"She appears to be draining one of the Pits."
	"How many Loved Ones?"
	"Eighteen."
	"Fine. No time to waste. Show me the fastest route there."
	Fran's head disappeared, and was replaced by a map of the area. A route 
came up, marked in red.
	"Good." He raced the van through the route, until he came upon the tar 
pits. He aimed the battle-van at one of the Loved Ones. With a squeal of tire 
rubber and a loud "CRUNCH!", the Loved One became road kill.
	"Crunch all you want!" Arsenal yelled, smiling wickedly. "Barney can't 
make more!"
	He skidded the battle-van to a halt, mounted the Excalibur, and shot out 
the back of the van like a bat out of hell. while in midair, he flipped a 
switch, and the Excalibur mechamorphosed, wrapping around him.
	Arsenal shot three of the Loved Ones with Sponge-Seeker Missiles. The 
other Loved Ones scurried for cover.
	"Well, well, well," Baby Bop cried. "If it isn't Arsenal the *SUPER-DEE-
DOOPER* Lone Warrior!"
	"That's my name, Bop," Arsenal stated. "Don't wear it out, or I'll have to 
get a new one."
	"What are you doing here?" she asked him.
	"I got word that a major annoyance was in the area. I checked, and you 
were at the top of today's list." He extended the Excalibur's ion blades. "Now, 
are you really you, or just another clone? You'll die either way."
	"Aren't you even the *eeensty* bit curious as to why I'm here?" she asked.
	"Go ahead." <This had better be good,> he thought. No way was he going to 
let Bop get away with anything.
	"We're looking for the most perfect thing in all the universe!" Bop 
yelled, drawing loud grunts and growls from the Loved Ones. "The one thing that 
will get rid of *all* you evil Jihaddis."
	"If it's so perfect," Arsenal asked, "why is it in a tar pit?"
	"Once upon a time, an evil man hid it here ages ago," she screeched, 
waving her blankie wildly, "trying to keep it out of our hands. We *finally* 
tracked it here last week. And once we get it, Barney will rule happily ever 
after."
	"So what is this thing?" Arsenal asked, Bop's voice starting to grate on 
his nerves.
	"It's a robot!" she cackled. "A bright purple and green, Jihaddi stomping, 
ceratopsian *ROBOT!*" She gazed right at Arsenal coldly. "And it's even stronger 
than the Demon we sent after the fleet. It can give Megazord a run for its 
money!"
	"Doesn't sound so hard," Arsenal commented. "Still, this thing sounds like 
it should be kept out of *your* hands."
	With this, he attacked the Loved Ones. Three dropped as his ion blades 
sliced through them. A Loved One grabbed him from behind.
	<Bad move,> he thought, as he hurled that particular Loved One into the 
tar. Seven more fell to the ground in pieces.
	Arsenal almost didn't hear the engine of his battle-van roar to life. He 
managed to step aside as it, driven by Bop, tried to run him over. He dropped 
the remaining four Loved Ones with missiles, then reconfigured the Excalibur to 
its cycle mode, taking off after Bop.
	Arsenal chased Bop through the roads, avoiding several accidents caused by 
Bop's reckless driving. He managed to get close enough to yell into the van's 
audio pickup, "Nolan Ryan, groin high!"
	"AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Bop yelled as 
the ejection seat propelled her into the air. Arsenal leapt his Excalibur into 
the air, landing in its armor mode. He took aim at Bop and fired his remaining 
Sponge-Seeker Missiles after her. The ejection seat was disintegrated in the 
process. Still, Arsenal could have sworn Bop vanished a second before the 
missiles hit...

	Later, Arsenal sat at his workstation, uploading his mission into the net. 
Fran's face appeared on another screen.
	"What is it, Fran?"
	"Arse, there's no trace of Baby Bop in any of the debris from the ejection 
seat." Her face looked worried. "I believe she pulled a disappearing trick, same 
as Barney's able to."
	Arsenal frowned. "Any truth to her story of the robot?"
	"None so far. I'm still looking through the various referances on the 
history of the tar pits.
	"And might I add, I think it's time you joined another group."
	"No," he said, shutting off the screen. "I won't be responsible for 
another Jihaddi death. Not like Kim..."

Written by Ted "Arsenal" Brock
(c) 1994, Pullemouttayerhat Productions