[img=http://i.imgur.com/dO6vRyy.png]

[b][u]???[/b][/u]

And just like that, the Don Mech was born. Don himself was seated in its cockpit, within the Mech's visor. The giant bot was poised to battle - but before it could move any further, a ring of steam emitted from its mecha pompadour. In moments its tip flung open like the cap of a lighter, revealing a large green sphere, another cockpit inside. And seated in the very center, surrounded by heaps and heaps of buttons and levers... was Trixie.

"All powered up and ready to go!" she called, her voice projected through the mech's hidden speakers. She reached forward and mashed the conglomeration of buttons at once. Then she began pulling at the overhead levers - "All engines and gears and cool stuff ready! Locked and loaded! Other cool phrases!" - before suddenly stopping herself short. "Hey... wait a second."

Trixie leaned back into her seat, bringing a finger to her chin. The Don Mech too brought its outstretched finger to its chin and mimicked the prankster. "Something's missing here..." She bobbed her crossed legs, deep in thought. "Hmm..." Trixie continued taking her sweetass time deliberating what the missing element to their killer machine could possibly be. The Mech was completely vulnerable during this time, as Don continued revving his engines and waiting for his co-pilot to figure things out - but the Dream Eater was just too baffled to even attack on its own volition. Because a Don Mech was just that fucking cool.

Then it came to her. Trixie jumped out of her seat. "I got it!"

Suddenly the pompadour encased itself in a brilliant white light, with sparkles and high-pitched [i]shing![/i]s echoing throughout the area. Its surface shifted and twisted, metallic pieces rearranging themselves with over-the-top pizzazz and flair. And noises. Lots of noises.

At the end of this henshin, the pompadour was jutted out even further than it had been. Its body now consisted of multiple long cylindrical barrels, with metallic rings wrapped around various parts to hold it all together. At the base of the pompadour, Trixie's cockpit had risen to the top. She too had motorbike-like handles to grip onto, just like her hero downstairs. When she revved them, bright lights and sputtering bullets blasted out of the barrels.

The prankster cackled. "Eat giant gatling gun, biatch!"