Turn into a robot.

In a flash of light you kick free of your captors grasp and pull yourself quickly to safety, feeling an abrupt amount of newfound energy.

Ready to take your opponents now more evenly, you get into a combative stance until you take notice of yet another strange predicament. Looking at your hands, you realize the female kangaroo form you once where was now no more. In its place you were graced with metallic digits, servos and wires. Glancing to the tray where the cookies and bananas had been. You spot in its blurry reflection a vicious metal skull with red eyes. The dawning realization hits home.

You are now a T-800 Terminator.

A walking death machine made up of a hyperalloy endoskeleton which was nearly indestructible. However, where you knew terminators regularly had a vision filled with a reddish hue and gave detailed environmental information. You vision lacked all of it. Instead you could just see as though nothing had changed to begin with. Which you had to admit, kinda sucked.

But you would worry about it later. For right now you had a few asses to kick and not a lot of mercy to show.

Spilling out in the hundreds. Your enemy. The mutated, pudding covered gophers. Descended upon you like a forty foot tidal wave of utter disgust. With nothing but your fists to aid you in this weird once in a lifetime event. You steel your resolve and charge headlong into the madness.

Written by Coca-Cola

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