[b][color=ed1c24]Error[/color][/b] --, [b][color=ed1c24]Error[/color][/b] --, see error code=16724537 --, [b][color=ed1c24]Error[/color][/b] --, recalculating. The synthetic mind had never been programmed on what to do in the event of an all out free for all superstar wrestling extravaganza. There were provisions in place in the case of dragons swooping down from the skies above, zombie apocalypse, alien invasion, Jumanji, but nothing for something like… This. One might think that it could have been expected, Billuh was a notable Gnomish Wrastler after all and it wasn’t out of the question that at some point he might wind up in a bout with a human wrestler of some notoriety, but so many and all at once, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and joining in on the fight faster than they could individually be dealt with? Ones and zeros raced across Billuh’s vision, he thought he might even have seen a two in the mess at one point, running through every possible program, every perceived action and result, nothing fitting the scenario well enough to provide an acceptable degree of certainty on any course of action. Billuh would freeze for but a moment, just as Hornswoggle was doing his little jig and the Undertaker was stunned in sheer pain and utter confusion, seeing and understanding nothing but the numbers. 

[i]Too... Many... Wrestlers... [/i][b]Rebooting[/b]. Billuh’s slit like eyes opened fully, something usually reserved for the Old and Venerable Gnomish Tradition of Eye Wrastlin’, but the normal glowing blue hue of his robotic ocular implants was replaced by with a blinking mechanical red color usually reserved for electronics in distress. In a single motion Billuh’s right arm would shoot up and outward, attempting to take hold of the Undertaker’s junk and, if successful, a steam port on his bicep would blast forth steaming red mist as he tore down with engine powered force, taking clothing, flesh and organ with him as a second series of steam vents opened on his back, shoulder, and triceps on the same arm, propelling him directly at Hornswoggle and striking toward his face open palmed with the intention of feeding him the Undertaker’s junk. Well, at these speeds and with two hundred pounds of steel heading for the little man’s head, it would be less like feeding him the Undertaker’s junk and more akin to literally putting it through Hornswoggle’s teeth, mouth, throat, spine, and out the back of his head should he happen to land the blow in the first place. If the blow landed according to plan it would certainly shatter the joints and rupture the hydraulics in Billuh’s fingers and wrists, perhaps even causing some damage to his elbow, and impale Hornswoggle upon his right forearm. 

Unless physically stopped at some point during these events, Billuh would skid to a stop after plowing through Hornswoggle, the little man’s body still impaled upon his right forearm, pivot and face Gonad. Most of the flesh on the gnome’s right arm would be missing completely, either vaporized by the steam vents or ripped from his metal bones by the sheer force of his punch through the little man’s teeth and bone, his right middle finger would be severed completely along with the first joints of his ring finger and pinky, clearly revealing the steel skeleton and mechanical moving parts beneath, bits of viscera, teeth, and bone from both the remnants of the Undertaker’s softer bits and Hornswoggle’s devastated jaw and spine stuck on and cut into the rest of Billuh’s hand. It would take more than one wrestler at a time to deal with good ole’ Billuh Bob Gnome in this state, and preferably for the wrestlers they’d actually throw some blows rather than stand around like total dick bags getting pummeled one by one by an eighteen inch tall robot. The last time Billuh had faced an error induced reboot he had killed thirteen of his closest friends in a bar. "[b]MOAR WRASTLERS!![/b]"