With a BattleStar bearing down on him, spines sizzling with deadly energy, RockJaw cast about for something to defend himself with. Car, mailbox, hydrant? Maybe… no! Telephone pole! Two steps back, then reach around, grab and snap. Splinters flew out from where his stone fingers crunched solid wood. No time to get fancy. RockJaw twisted back to face the incoming assailant, a two-tonne ball of self-guided destruction. Flexing solid stone limbs, he swung his makeshift weapon over his head. The crossbar top arced up, then down. Wires snapped, sparks flew, and then the pole smashed squarely across the top of the black sphere, driving it into the pavement.
The BattleStar made a wounded noise, servos struggling and gyros grinding, and it vibrated in its asphalt cradle, sending shivers up the pole into RockJaw hands. The machine’s energy spines sparked and sputtered. Then, from deep within the core of the whirring ball, a muffled thump of explosion interrupted the flailing noises. Feeble wisps of blue smoke escaped around the edges of the pavement. The man-made monster was still, silent. Belatedly, the end of the telephone pole, spikes from the ball driven through it by the impact, began to burn.