Rox: The final chapter of "An Insidious Plot". Also includes a nod/parody/rip off of the 37th episode of FMA.
Chapter 4: The Mayhem Ends: Repercussions
Bigwig 159-2, Robber Baron 284-9 and Mr Hollywood 717-3 stepped aside as the Vice President's maintenance team hauled the aforementioned Sellbot's smoking engine out into the open for a better look. It was a mess. It looked like it had gone ten rounds with. . . well anything. As there was a limit to the speed it could handle, the extreme long-term acceleration caused by the overdose of sugar had caused some parts to just give up and stop working about halfway through the match. No one present had any idea how narrowly the VP had escaped fuel combustion, nor did they want too know.
"This is why we should have switched to electric engines a long time ago," the Chief Justice sighed.
"Yes, but they were very inefficient back then," the Chief Financial Officer reminded him. The Cashbot turned to the team of Skelecogs. "How is that prototype coming along?"
"Unfinished and untested."
"How long?"
"A week," the team leader replied succinctly. "At least."
"Oh well," said the CJ. "That's that then."
"It would help if the Skelecogs could all work on it together instead of passing information back and forth," the CFO observed.
"But that would leave the HQs without a repair team," said 284-9.
"Yes, I know. Which the blasted so called CEO won't like at all."
His Lawbot colleague patted him on the shoulder. "Now, now. He could be persuaded if he it were pointed that he would benefit if the electric engine research was given top priority over his new "suit's" construction."
The Cashbot looked dubious. "Oh really? You know how anxious he is to cast off his outdated one."
"Excuse me sirs."
The two Cog bosses turned their attention to the Skelecog leader.
"If the Bossbot Skelecogs give us all of their information, I believe we can take on their work."
"Sounds good," said the CFO. "Let's do that."
While the bosses headed off to negotiate with the CEO and his Bossbots, the Skelecogs turned their attention back to fixing the VP. More horrors awaited them. His spinning gears had heated up, melting the grease and thus all their early work completely away, whilst simultaneous slowly deforming. They would all have to be removed and replaced. Which would take hours.
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159-2, 284-9 and 717-3 and not been given any orders. The Skelecogs had kindly informed them that they would get in the way if they remained in Maintenance and Repair, forcing them to leave. Together they decided to organise a defence to prevent Toons from getting in and causing further mayhem, since the VP's appointment had long passed and thus a guard was severely lacking. They separated, hunted down and redirected every high level Cog that crossed their path, until they had a sufficient number, then met up at M and R's entrance.
With the CFO and CJ still locked in negotiations with the CEO who was being difficult, the three ambled back to the Archive room to add, "Affect on Cogs" to the Sugar Rush entry.
"Do you think it will have any lasting affects on him?" 284-9 casually asked.
717-3 frowned. "What do you mean?"
He scratched the back of his head. "Well. . . I don't know, but I was thinking along the lines of alterations to his personality."
159-2 scratched his chin. "The book didn't mention anything of the sort."
"Bear in mind that it's concerning the observation of Toons being affected by Toonish constructs. Surely this'll affect the Vice President differently?"
"It followed the description of a Toonish Sugar Rush accurately."
"You saw what it did to his engine. It could have killed him," 717-3 cut in.
Bigwig 159-2 nodded. "That is true. We'll just have to wait and see."
The trio entered the Archive room and set about killing time by adding to general research and reading.
A short while later, the Chiefs Financial Officer and Justice joined them and began browsing the Archives as they waited for the Skelecogs to finish their repairs on the Vice President.
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It was getting on for evening when a Mover and Shaker appeared at the door. "Sirs, the Skelecogs request your presence in Maintenance and Repair," he told them before continuing about his business.
"Finally," said the CFO as he closed a book and put it back on the shelf.
The two Cog bosses, their seconds in command and Mr Hollywood 717-3 trundled and strolled down to M and R.
An unconscious but seemingly functional Vice President was awaiting them.
The CJ nodded to the team leader who jumped onto the Sellbot's shoulder and pressed the device once again to his chest. It whirred and clicked. Then he jumped down.
The two lights above the VP's head flickered on before his eyes opened. He looked up and met the concerned gazes of his colleagues.
The Chief Financial Officer moved forward. "Feeling any better?"
He brightened considerably "Hi!" and threw his arms around the Cashbot's neck.
All present froze in alarm. This was overly affectionate, even for him.
"What-what're you-?" The CFO stuttered out.
He pulled back looking somewhat confused. "Sorry. Impulse. Anyway, what're you doing here? Not that I'm unhappy with you visiting of course."
A long pause greeted this question.
"You. . . don't remember?" the CJ asked, disbelief colouring his tone.
"Nope." There was another pause as the VP assessed his memory, before his head spun around to his unhappy face whereupon he began to panic. "There's nothing! A blank space! What happened!?"
The Cashbot put a hand on his shoulder and told him in a very solemn voice. "It's best you never know."
"Wow. That bad?"
"Let's just leave it at that."
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It was business as usual with the VP back to normal. . . more or less. 284-9 had been right when he had said that there would be lasting effects.
717-3, now the Sellbot second in command had been charged with documenting his boss's behaviour for the duration of the next day, by 159-2 and 284-9. He had arrived at the VP's office early, before the Sellbot boss so that he could hide and was now currently huddled behind the VP's desk, out of sight. "Saturday, 0946 hours," he scribbled into his notebook as quietly as he could. "The Vice President, with papers awaiting his approval and due by noon sitting in front of him, he chooses instead to prepare and consume some Horlicks before taking a nap."
"1026 hours. The Vice President attempted to feed a random Goon. The Goon was not biting."
"At 1103 hours, he abruptly and obsessively began to clean the windows. Still no progress on the papers, with the deadline fast approaching."
At 1147 hours, The Vice President began to furiously sign the papers, all the while claiming that he didn't have time for this."
"At 1200 hours, he finishes signing the papers and heads off to the launch pad to promote new Cogs to full fledged Sellbots. Halfway there he realised that he had left the promotion papers on his desk and had to hurry back to get them. In the trip to, from then back to the launch pad, he was delayed by the impulse to hug everyone who greeted him. He seems to have no control over this."
"1210 hours, the Vice President finally arrives at the launch pad. The new Cogs have to suffer through the ordeal of being group hugged before they can go on their way."
"1300 hours, a small group of high Laffer Toons attempt to defeat the VP. I believe two factors were the cause of their defeat. One, they appeared disorientated by his greeting hug. Two, he displayed a possibly temporary immunity to the Toons' pies."
"1400 hours. After defeating several more groups Toons, and promoting several groups of Sellbots, he breaks for lunch."
"1415 hours, and the Vice President begins an unscheduled inspection of the Sales room and the Factory. With the Skelecogs involved in completing research and construction on an electric engine for our bosses, our fellow Sellbots are forced to attempt maintenance on themselves or their colleagues. The VP finds it amusing to watch."
The giant Sellbot leaned down to inspect Telemarketer 118-7's attempts to grease his friend, Cold Caller 122-7's gears. 122-7 was unconscious having fainted at the sight of his own inner workings. Bless.
"Wow. You're not being stingy with the grease there, 118-7."
118-7 looked back at his work with some chagrin and attempted to transport the excess grease back into the tin.
The Vice President chuckled and moved on.
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284-9 peered over the top of his sunglasses at 717-3's surveillance log. "Well there doesn't seem to be anything too serious here. His lack of concentration might cause problems, though."
"Do you have any idea if it's permanent or temporary?" 159-2 asked.
"No. We'll just have to wait and see."
"That's starting to become a catch phrase," the Cashbot second in command remarked.
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A week and a half later, after all the Cog Bosses had their fuel engines replaced with working electric ones, all the VP's residual symptoms vanished.
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The Chief Executive Officer read Mr Hollywood 717-3's surveillance log. Copies of it had been distributed to the three other Bosses.
The archaic Big Cheese grinned. "'Immunity to the Toons' pies', eh? Interesting. Very interesting."