Awkward and uncomfortable in his cramped quarters, Johnny found the radio switch and pulled it.
"We've got to destroy that Robot, Johnny. Now, at once, or we're finished."
"But how—"
The Robot was upon them, its unbidden thoughts stronger.
Halt....
It was Johnny who struck the first blow—clumsily, lifting his great right arm up and bringing it down stiffly on the other Robot's head. Metal arms came up, swung blurringly. A clanging tumult deafened Johnny as dents appeared inside the chamber of his own Robot's head. He triggered the levers mechanically now, aware that they were fighting under a tremendous disadvantage, for their fingers were still stiff on the unfamiliar controls and their artificial reflexes could not hope to match the Robot's.
"Look out, Johnny—"
Two metal shapes loomed, Westler and the real Robot. The three of them came together, clashing, clanging, metal arms swinging and wrecking metal bodies. It was Westler's Robot which went down first, slowly, buckling at the knee joints and then collapsing. Metal feet drove down upon it ponderously, crushing the head section. Westler's Robot was still.
Johnny hammered with huge metal hands at the other robot hardly knowing where he might strike a mortal blow. But the Robot slowed, its reactions grew feeble, its blows denting Johnny's head-chamber no longer. Finally, it sprawled across Westler's Robot, then rolled away and was still.
Cursing to himself, Johnny climbed down from his Robot, found the battered head plate of Westler's, forced it open.